Geostorm The Shift: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller (The Geostorm Series Book 1)

by Bobby Akart

  It was a beautiful sunshiny day in Central Florida, as most days were. The park was filled with visitors, many of whom came for the rides, shopping, and dining, but others were truly interested in learning about the animals.

  Today, Rhonda was hosting a three-hour private backlot tour for a group of family members of the theme park’s sister company in Tokyo. Rhonda did not speak Japanese, and the SafariLand team member who did called in sick that day. She assured her supervisor she could handle the backlot tour if the guests didn’t mind helping her with interpretation.

  Fortunately, several members of the group were fluent in English, and after some playful banter between them, the group decided to move forward with the tour. The mood was jovial as they began the first leg of their journey into the theme-park version of the Congo River Valley, the man-made habitat that closely resembled the environs of the exotic animals.

  They walked along a grassy path, and when they crossed a rope bridge, the tour was officially underway. The path wound its way through the aviary, where Rhonda pointed out the unusual birds and their myriad colors. Next, she introduced the group to the smallest of the mammals on the tour—the naked mole rats. Also known as a sand puppy, the burrowing rodent’s hairless, tubular, wrinkled body made it appear to be a miniscule version of a walrus. Or, as Rhonda put it, a bratwurst with teeth.

  Even with the humorous insights and anecdotes, Rhonda sensed her guests were getting antsy. The language barrier prevented her from understanding the whispered comments about when the real animal tour would begin. She disregarded her guests’ concerns, as she knew the real fun was about to begin.

  She led the group up a hill through a palm-tree-covered canopy, which gave them the feeling of being in the jungle. After the brief trail walk, she led them to an overlook that extended over the hippopotamus pool. She could sense the excitement, especially among the children, as the giant beasts bathed barely twenty feet below the overlook.

  “Okay, everyone,” began Rhonda, “this is one of the highlights of our tour today. You’re about to experience something that very few people in the world have seen—a mother hippo with her twin calves!”

  Her Japanese guests spread the word and their excitement began to build.

  Rhonda continued. “A mother hippopotamus has only given birth to twin calves one time in captivity. That happened at the Emmen Zoo in the Netherlands twenty years ago. Now, here at Afrika SafariLand, we are proud to say that it has happened again. This proud mother of twins is the second such occurrence. The newborn twin hippos have stabilized after their birth, and this week marks the first time they’ve been released into the hippo pool with the others.”

  One of the guests pointed out the two adult crocodiles sunning on the bank to their right. “Are you concerned that the crocodiles will eat the baby hippos?”

  “No, not at all. This group of animals has cohabitated here in the hippo pool for many years. They are like family to one another. Besides, if the crocodiles come anywhere near the calves, the rest of the hippos will quickly circle around the mother and her babies to protect them.”

  The group of seven women and five children pushed against the railing of the overlook to get a better look. The hippos, however, had wandered away from the overlook and nearly out of sight of the group.

  Rhonda furrowed her brow and assessed the weights and ages of the group. None of them were excessively overweight, so her plan to give them a closer look was not out of the question. She glanced down at the disappointed faces of the children. They were pointing in the direction the hippos went.

  “I have an idea!” announced Rhonda. She knelt down and opened her arms to gather the children close to her. As she spoke, one of the moms interpreted. “Normally, this additional part of the tour is designed only for adults. But you guys look big and strong. Would you like a closer look at the hippos?”

  They all screamed in joy, so loud that unbeknownst to Rhonda, who had her back turned to the hippo pool, the crocodiles were startled off their bank and into the water, quickly disappearing into its murky depths.

  “All-righty then! Let me get you outfitted in these harnesses and then we’ll get a closer look.”

  Rhonda quickly and efficiently sized up her guests for their safety gear. Each was supplied a harness and a vest that fit snugly around their legs and torso. Once they were properly outfitted, Rhonda punched a three-digit code into a biometric lock that led to a walkway surrounding the outer edge of the hippo pool. One by one, she clipped their harnesses to a railing and a shock cord made of elastic cords wrapped in cotton to prevent them from falling into the hippo pool should they slip.

  “The hippopotamus is the third largest living land mammal, after elephants and the white rhinoceros. I’m sure that many of you are concerned about what hippos eat. It is only on rare occasions that they eat meat or insects. They are considered to be omnivores, but their main diet consists of grasses, vegetation, and fruit.”

  “Look, I see the babies!” shouted one of the children in Japanese.

  Rhonda turned to her left to see the mother and the twin calves making their way through the water up ahead. She glanced behind her, where she saw the crocodiles had surfaced, barely sticking their menacing, piercing eyes above the waterline.

  Animals sense danger in a way man cannot understand. Tens of thousands of years of life’s experiences became ingrained in their DNA, passed on from one generation to another. Quietly, but methodically, several of the large female hippos began to wander toward the mother and her young. While Rhonda counted their numbers, she lost track of the Japanese children, who’d darted ahead toward the new family of hippos. When she heard their voices well down the path from where she was standing, she panicked.

  “Hey, wait! Wait for me!”

  She tried to jog and catch up, but her safety tether kept getting caught on the railing’s posts. Now her panic set in and the children were separated from their parents, who were behind her on the rail and couldn’t get past.

  Rhonda unlatched her tether and chased after the kids. The women followed her lead, and soon, six adults were running down the path, under the canopy of tropical foliage.

  Then one of the women tripped on the root of a kapok tree. She stumbled forward and tried to use another one of the guests to break her fall. The result was a tangled wreck of limbs and bodies falling over one another, sliding down the embankment toward the hippo pool.

  “No!” yelled Rhonda.

  The women were crying and screaming for help as they slowly slid down the muddy embankment toward the dirty water. They were clawing at the ground, grasping for anything that resembled a tree root. But they were unsuccessful.

  Rhonda turned to the other women and began to take their security tethers. Some gave them up; others ignored her request and raced forward after the children. Rhonda clipped the ropes to hers until they stretched twenty feet, just long enough for her to reach the pool and help the women.

  Meanwhile, the children and the other women were chattering away in Japanese. Their excited tone of voice was indicative of their fear and concern for the women who had now reached the pool.

  “They’re coming back!” shouted one of the women at the railing next to Rhonda, who was frantically connecting the ropes in preparation for descending the slope to rescue the women. She assumed the woman was referring to the rest of the group.

  Well, you know what they say about assumptions.

  Rhonda ducked under the rail and slid on her backside down the slope, using the heels of her feet to avoid falling too quickly. She’d almost reached the edge when she heard the loud splashing of water to her right.

  “Quick! Hurry! Come to me.”

  The women screamed and responded in Japanese. Frightened, they unlatched their tethers and waded through the water, at times slipping on the muddy bottom. Rhonda scooted down to the edge as far as her tether would allow.

  “Come back!” She encouraged the women closer. “Come on, you can do it!”
/>
  Then the mother hippo and her twin calves picked up speed in Rhonda’s direction, and they were surrounded by the bloat of hippos. The stampeding behemoths approached the two women, who panicked and began to run away from Rhonda’s outstretched arms.

  “No, you can’t—” Rhonda’s sentence was drowned out by the carnage.

  The two women never had a chance. Countless tons of hippopotami plowed through them, crunching their fragile bodies, and trampled them under the weight of the enormous animals. The women were knocked under the water, only to emerge to let out bloodcurdling pleas for help before being swarmed under again.

  For them, it was over in just seconds. As the bloat swept by, their badly battered, lifeless bodies bobbed up to the surface, facedown.

  Rhonda buried her face in her hands and began to sob. Sobs turned to wails as the women and children on the path joined in. Distraught and in shock, Rhonda had difficulty bringing herself back to reality.

  The crocodiles did that for her.

  The first bite of the prehistoric creature’s jaws ripped off the bottom half of her left leg. The agonizing pain was so great that Rhonda’s attempts to scream resulted in nothing coming out of her mouth except air.

  Her eyes grew wide as the other crocodile snapped at her right foot, ripping off the boot and foot at her anklebone.

  Now Rhonda found her voice.

  “Arrrggghhh!” The agonized howl caught the attention of the women, who yelled to her, and one another, in Japanese. Then they tried to help.

  Rhonda rolled onto her belly and tried to crawl up the bank. Her muscle memory and instincts forgot that half her left leg was missing. The motion in her hips and thighs was futile, as she was unable to dig into the mud.

  Flailing like an earthworm on a hook, she caught the attention of the first croc, which scrambled part of the way up the bank and promptly bit off another hunk of her left leg. The second croc joined in and latched on to her right knee, engaging in a tug-of-war with the women, who were trying to pull Rhonda up the embankment.

  They pulled and the croc tugged, and then Rhonda’s body tore apart again. With the change in momentum, the croc, mouth full of leg, slid awkwardly down the muddy slope. The women, who’d pulled mightily to save Rhonda, fell backwards in a heap.

  Rhonda’s body slid down the embankment once again. The loss of blood and pain was causing her to lose consciousness. She tried in vain to pull herself up the tethered line, but her strength was zapped.

  The women recovered and began to pull her again, but one of the crocs had returned for more. This time, it crawled farther up the bank and bit off an arm. The gruesome sight shocked the women, who screamed and lost control of the rope. Rhonda slid down the bank yet again.

  Her eyes rolled back into her head and she slipped into unconsciousness before the crazed crocodiles worked together to deal their final death blow.

  Chapter 46

  Brookfield Zoo

  Chicago

  Kristi was reviewing the reports from her staff regarding the primate breakout. All of the chimps were accounted for, but half had been killed near the interstate. Only three of a dozen capuchin monkeys had been captured. Animal control departments of the state and local governments were alerted to the number that were missing. They were reassured, as was the public via Kristi’s media appearance, that the capuchins were disease-free and relatively harmless. She did warn the citizens of Chicagoland not to approach the monkeys but, rather, to contact law enforcement, who would bring animal control and zoo representatives.

  As she pored over the reports, Knight fidgeted on his barstool. He’d become increasingly agitated of late, especially since the primate breakout. He’d been shielded from what had happened by Kristi keeping him in her office, and in his cage to sleep at night.

  “Hey, buddy. Are you tired of being cooped up in here?”

  He cocked his head, trying to understand her cadence to determine what she was saying.

  She picked up on his confusion. She signed to him, We have to stay here. I am sorry.

  Knight pouted and nodded his head. A tap at the door followed by it suddenly swinging open agitated Knight. He hopped up on his barstool and began to swing his arms, emitting a series of woots and hollers.

  “Sorry, Knight,” greeted Tommy, who came in carrying a stack of newspapers. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Then he too caught himself. Tommy tucked the papers under his armpit and signed, I am sorry.

  Knight persisted in complaining, and Tommy looked to Kristi for help.

  “Don’t worry about him. He’s been fussy lately. We all have been.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if it has to do with me. Maybe he senses that you’ve been emotionally hurt by a man in the past. Was he like this with your ex or other men in your life?”

  Kristi leaned back in her chair and smiled. “Um, Mr. Bannon, are you a, quote, man in my life?”

  He squirmed uncomfortably as he responded, “Well, you know. We are close working companions and I do spend much of my day here.”

  Kristi enjoyed his prevarication. She was beginning to grow comfortable with the handsome new man in her life and was curious to see if he was feeling the same way. The fact that he was evasive in his answer proved that he did enjoy her company as much as she enjoyed his. She decided to let him off the hook.

  “The thing is, in the last years of my marriage, Knight was a bigger part of it than my ex-husband. He never came to the zoo. Everything was always about him and his career. He showed little interest in my work.”

  She paused, and then she added, “And no, there have been no other men in my life. Knight is enough, for now.”

  Tommy approached her desk and set down the morning copy of the Chicago Tribune. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. They’re calling for your head down at the Trib.”

  “And this surprises you, how?” she said with the wave of her hand. She glanced down at the front-page headline that read Monkey Madness.

  Tommy replied, “The media is always looking for a scalp. The higher up someone is on the corporate ladder, the bigger the scalp.”

  “Well, I guess I’m safe, then. There are far more important scalps up the food chain around here than mine.”

  “What’s on tap for today?” Tommy asked.

  Before Kristi could respond, Knight jumped off his barstool, leapt on top of his cage, and began jumping up and down in an apparent temper tantrum.

  “Knight!” shouted Kristi. “Stop it! Get down from there!”

  She stood and approached him. The chimp was defiant, glaring at her, and then emitted a hiss—a sign of aggression.

  Kristi was shocked by his actions, but she knew what to do. Generally, a monkey will hiss if they think a human has something to eat or when they feel threatened. To diffuse the situation, Kristi averted her eyes and closed her mouth. Baring her teeth, even in the form of a smile, in the nonhuman primate world, can be seen as a challenge, forcing the chimp to protect itself.

  She motioned for Tommy to move to the back side of her desk. She used sign language to speak to Knight.

  What is wrong? Are you hungry?

  He shook his head violently from side to side and then signed back, No. He then repeated it over and over again.

  No. No. No.

  Knight began to beat the side of his head and swing his shoulders back and forth. For a moment, when he made eye contact with Kristi, she saw a coldness, a mean-spirited side of Knight she’d never seen before.

  Then, just as quickly as the moment of insurrection came about, it passed. He lowered his arms, jumped off his cage, and knelt in front of Kristi with his head lowered and arm outstretched. It was a signal of submissiveness and regret.

  She took him by the hand and walked him back to his cage. Knight willingly crawled inside and Kristi provided him some fruit to eat. His eyes were sad, but somewhat bloodshot now. He signed to her, I am sorry. Head hurts.

  She responded, Okay. I will make it better.

 
His eyes remained sullen and he slowly shook his head before he lay down without eating.

  Kristi sighed and closed his cage door, affixing the latch, which she rarely did. She turned to Tommy and shrugged. He stepped forward and turned her chair so she could take a seat. She reached up to touch his hand, thanking him for the kind, gentlemanly gesture. A tender act between a man and a woman that Knight noticed as well.

  “What’s that all about?” asked Tommy.

  Kristi, frustrated that Knight was hurting, shot back, “I don’t know. You’re the animal behaviorist. You tell me.”

  Her sharp response stung Tommy as he paused. He made his way around her desk and sank into a chair. Kristi leaned on the desk and rubbed her temples. Her head hurt, too.

  “Tommy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I didn’t get much sleep, and I’ve lost so many of my monkeys, and now this.” She ran the tops of her fingers across the newspaper like she was wiping bread crumbs off a cutting board.

  “No worries, boss. I get it. You’re both on edge. How about a change of scenery? Maybe the three of us can take a walk around Tropic World?”

  “Das ist verboten,” said Kristi with a laugh.

  “You know German?”

  “No, but I fell asleep to this old movie with Brad Pitt based during World War II.”

  Tommy perked up and sat on the edge of his seat. “You’re a fan of war movies? Me too.”

  “No. I’m a fan of Brad Pitt.”

  Tommy slumped back in his seat as his obvious attempt to find something in common with Kristi failed. “Okay. Does that mean you can’t take Knight out of your office anymore?”

  “Actually, it’s worse. They want me to return him to the primate habitat. Permanently.”