Rebirth

By Teisha Rowland

“The giant python—she’s gone walkabout,” Steve stammered as I strode into the expansive Reptile Exhibit Hall.

I couldn’t run back into the drizzly night. Wildlife professionals don’t run, especially not the bloody founder and director of Australia’s Threatened and Extinct Animal Sanctuary.

And this big girl—my escaped snake—measured longer than five meters. What if it swallowed one of our endangered kangaroos, or something bigger?

“How long has she been missing?” I asked. I maintained a calm façade while squinting at the dark crevices within the massive, glass-fronted habitat with Steve, my veteran reptile technician, and his unlucky new intern, whose name I hadn’t yet caught.

We must stay open, especially tomorrow; we’ve worked so hard. First the heartbreaking Tasmanian Tiger failure. Now this. Some of our investors—who’d receive special tours tomorrow for the National Threatened Species Day Celebration—had insisted we obtain this rare girl. They’d be furious. Hard to breed their precious threatened snake when we couldn’t find her!

“Saw her this arvo, before closing. The groggy girl finally woke up and was shedding.” Steve pointed to a sandstone cave, inside which an enormous snakeskin shimmered under our flashlights’ interrogation. “Big mobs of skin even for the rainbow serpent.”

Somehow, the skin looked even bigger than possible for our python.

“The rainbow serpent?” squeaked the intern. “Like in the Aboriginal stories?”

Steve nodded, pointing at the placard by the python’s exhibit titled “The Legend of the Rainbow Serpent” with a picture of a snake painted on a rock wall.

The intern gushed, bouncing on her toes, “The god who created the world, transforms people, and makes water and rain on whims?”

I rolled my eyes at the familiar myths. As if creating life were that simple. I thought of the Tasmanian Tigers—the largest carnivorous marsupial—and chewed my lip. We’d had biotech successes in resurrecting some extinct species, but not a Tasmanian Tiger. All I’d wanted was to bring them back.

“You left out ‘dispenses vengeance upon those who wrong it and those who ask too many questions,’” Steve chided. “Some think Oenpelli pythons inspired the legends.”

“Just stories, of course,” I sighed. “Good visitor entertainment.” I ended tight-lipped to hide my contempt for the myths.

Steve turned to me, smirk banished. “And the door—it was still locked when I got here.”

He likely misread my expression; the missing snake was not weighing most heavily on my conscience this stormy night. And I trusted Steve; I couldn’t imagine him leaving a cage unlocked.

“So, how could it have escaped?” I tried to redirect my guilt and blame toward something productive.

“Maybe through a crack?” the intern offered.

“We designed the habitat carefully,” Steve snapped.

I couldn’t imagine the enormous serpent squeezing through some undetected gap. A supernatural feat indeed.

“That’s odd though,” he paused. “I’m London to a brick that her water dish was dry as a dead dingo’s—”

I coughed.

Blushing, he continued, “It was dry earlier. Now it’s chockers with water.” He scratched his head. “Maybe I filled it and forgot…”

I shrugged; we’d all been too busy. “Maybe someone stole it?” I looked up at the security cameras.

“I reviewed the footage. Nothing suspicious,” Steve said.

“Have you checked outside the cage?” We gazed down the dim corridor, quiet except for the increasing patter of rain on the roof. At the terminus, a door led outside to the barren Tasmanian Tiger exhibit.

“You mean the hallway and empty tiger space?”

I winced, though I knew he meant no harm. It was the intended pinnacle achievement of the Sanctuary, my lifetime of effort. But the animals remained extinct, the last one dying neglected, in a zoo, exactly a century ago tomorrow. I swallowed against constriction in my throat.

But the celebration is about life—new beginnings—not death.

“We may fill it with tigers yet.” I tried to sound convincing, though not believing it myself. “Let’s split up. I’ll search there.” I pointed down the corridor.

“Give it a burl.” Steve shrugged. “We’ll check around here.”

Hoping to placate the nocturnal animals and avoid driving the python into further hiding, I probed the corridor with a small flashlight, casting eerie shadows that stretched and flickered. I arrived at the terminus, and the snake remained elusive.

I strained to open the exterior door until it flew open. An unexpected downpour and chilling wind assaulted me.

My flashlight worthless in the onslaught, I blindly stumbled forward and found myself facing the desolate Tasmanian Tiger habitat. Guilt welled up within me. At the front, the small watering hole, dry earlier, overflowed.

An incongruous slithering in the rapids caught my eye.

The serpent—fantastically immense—towered above me. In between sheets of rain, I swear its scales glinted impossible prismatic hues. Mesmerized, I could not move as I looked upon the most beautiful and terrifying creature I’d ever seen.

Its penetrating eyes locked upon mine.

“You…” a strange, lilting voice boomed in my mind. “You dared commit such a transgression.”

“I tried to make it right,” I sputtered, “to make amends. My grandfather… he trapped the last Tasmanian Tiger.” I choked on the confession. “But I tried. Isn’t this enough? The sanctuary…” drenched arms outspread, gesturing to the many exhibits, my voice trailed off.

“This…” it hissed, tongue flicking raindrops, “is good. You created much new life—and that burden was not yours.”

I felt the guilt—owned since childhood, since hearing the stories—slowly lift.

“No, your transgression is rudely awakening and bringing me here. Caged,” it spat. “But I will give you a choice. Your efforts can end, or you can be transformed. Reborn.”

The snake opened its unhinged mouth, a yawning abyss with glistening fangs.

Wide-eyed with understanding, I nodded at the habitat.

“Good choice.”

A rainbow broke out across the dawning sky. A small pack of Tasmanian Tigers awoke oddly familiar with their new home, and just in time for the crowds arriving to celebrate National Threatened Species Day.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Teisha Rowland is a biologist, writer, and geek. She enjoys science fiction and fantasy stories about characters who overcome obstacles to make their crazy world a better place. Teisha balances creative and scientific pursuits, receiving her BA in Humanities and Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology (MCDB), then her PhD in MCDB from UC Santa Barbara. As a scientist, she has extensive scientific publications. Teisha resides in Colorado with her wonderfully supportive husband and family.

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