The jolt of the bus lurching to a stop and the hiss of the double doors swinging open pulled Trevor out of his nap. He blinked his eyes a few times to try and get the grogginess out of them as he sat up and looked out the window. Bright sunlight and cluster of huts and small buildings interlaced with gravel walkways greeted him. He must have nodded off somewhere in the tunnel.
All the same, considering the amount of people walking around, mixed in with a giraffe, a small herd of pronghorn antelope, and even a leopard that another man was having a conversation with, he was clearly at the headquarters for the Prairies and Savannahs district now.
Grabbing the handle for his backpack, Trevor got out of his seat and started disembarking from the bus with the rest of the passengers. As soon as he got off, a large yellow sign pointed him in the direction of the visitors’ center for check-in and transformation rooms.
Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Trevor stepped off to the left and started making his way over to the visitors’ center. He quickly realized the signs really weren’t necessary. The large, two-story structure loomed over all the other buildings. The white-washed adobe walls and thatched roof made it stick out like a sore thumb, too.
As her neared the visitors’ center, Trevor passed under a large metal sign that read, “Welcome to Prairies and Savannahs: Melting Pot of the Grasslands.” At first, Trevor thought it was a silly slogan to have, until he saw the billboard just past it that had all the different animal options listed on it. The options were grouped under headers for The American Plains, The African Serengeti, and even The Steppes of Russia and Asia. Based on the number of options under each category, Trevor quickly realized there’d be no shortage of choices here. People could be anything from Mongolian wild horses to Nile crocodiles to prairie dogs.
After glancing at the billboard for a few minutes, Trevor continued on to the visitors’ center and got in line for guest check-in. It took a few minutes, but, before he knew it, he was stepping up to the counter.
“Hi, there, and welcome to Prairies and Savannahs,” the clerk said almost cheerfully. “Do you have a reservation with us, sir?”
“Um, yeah,” Trevor said a bit nervously. “It should be under Trevor Wilkinson.”
The clerk looked up the name on his computer and quickly found Trevor’s listing. “Got it. Staying for one week, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay. And what will you be staying as, Mr. Wilkinson?”
A slight flutter rippled down Trevor’s spine. This was it.