“Sorry to disagree,” Joe said, “but I just watched a large snake kill one of your staff about ten minutes ago, over by the World of Venom building – a boa constrictor, I think. It squeezed him to death in front of a dozen people.”
The man’s face dropped. “Terry? I pray that you are mistaken, sir, I truly do. Terry has been with us many years and loved Betsy a great deal.”
Joe raised an eyebrow. “Betsy?”
“Yes, Betsy. She is the zoo’s Pearl Island Boa. She’s always been extremely gentle. I can’t believe she would ever attack anyone – least of all Terry. They had a…bond, for want of a better word.”
Joe nodded. He didn’t want to upset the man further, but thought he needed to wake up to whatever was happening. “Maybe he’s okay,” Joe supposed. “It did all happen suddenly.”
The other man thought about things for a moment and his expression seemed to get grimmer with each passing second. Finally, he looked back up at Joe and said, “I believe you. It doesn’t seem like you’re lying, and I see no reason why you would. Something is obviously going on, but I just cannot fathom the idea that any of our animals would attack their handlers. There are too many precautions.”
“Look, I don’t mean to be impatient, but you’re the only representative of the zoo I could find. You need to do something.”
“And what exactly would you have me do? I am a curator, not a crowd controller.”
Joe sighed. “Nevertheless, you have a responsibility.”
The man looked at Joe for several seconds before replying. “I suppose you’re right. I should find out what’s going on.” He pushed Joe aside, headed for the front of the hall, and spoke over his shoulder as he went. “I still don’t believe things are as bad as people are-”
Joe turned around to see why the curator had stopped mid-sentence. He could hardly believe his eyes as people started to scream. Four lions blocked the far entrance to the visitor’s centre and were snarling at the people inside. Each of their fangs was the size of a tent peg and syrupy-thick blood dripped from their jaws.
Joe had a feeling that he was about to have a very bad day.
Chapter Two
“Lions!” Joe didn’t know why he needed to state the obvious, but saying it out loud was the only way he could accept what was happening. “Those are goddamn Lions!”
The curator headed back toward Joe, away from the snarling beasts at the other end of the hall. “This is not possible,” he said, voice trembling like lime-jelly. “The enclosures are too secure for anything to get loose.”
Joe grabbed the man’s collar and shook him. “Think about how they got loose later, okay! I need to get my son somewhere safe, right now.”
The curator finally seemed to accept the situation. “We should…we should get everyone further inside the building.”
Without further comment, Joe raced over to get Danny from the cube seats. The boy was frozen solid, eyes fixed on the quadrupedal menaces stalking the hall. Joe took his son into his arms and turned back towards the zoo’s curator. “Where can we g--”
The sounds of fresh screams cut Joe off. Four lions, led by a heavily-maned male, were now fully inside the building. Two females split off to corner a young brunette woman in the gap between two snack machines. The beasts toyed with her, swatting her back and forth, and blood formed on the woman’s white blouse where a set of razor-sharp claws penetrated. Elsewhere, the remaining two lions pursued anyone unable to find a hiding space.
“We have to help these people,” Joe said. “Take my son somewhere safe.”
The curator quickly took Danny into his arms, then turned to Joe. “We’ll be in the research wing, through the red door in the far corner. I suggest you come with us now not later.”
Joe nodded, “Be right behind you,” then headed towards the brunette woman. He came to a sudden stop when he encountered the male lion ripping out the throat of an elderly gentleman. The big cat’s jaws cut off the old man’s screams, left him gargling blood. Joe swallowed back the burger and fries he’d eaten that morning, while battling to fight away the dizziness that erupted from the base of his stomach.
How the fuck did this happen? People aren’t supposed to get eaten alive by lions in the middle of England. Or anywhere for that matter. This isn’t Jumanji!
More screaming. People being ripped to shreds. Torn apart. Somehow the young brunette was managing to fend off the two lionesses, kicking out at them each time they attacked. It was working – for now – but wouldn’t be long before her timing was off. Then she would be done for.
Joe grabbed one of the coloured cube-seats and hoisted it up to his chest. It was heavy – too heavy. Joe sucked in a deep breath and heaved with all his might, just about managing to get the cube up above his head. Then, like a circus strongman, he waddled across the hall towards the two attacking lionesses. The male lion was nearby too, ripping apart another victim. This time a young girl.
I must be insane. The first weekend I’ve had with Danny in a month and it ends with me taking on a pride of lions with a chair from IKEA.
Without allowing himself to think anymore – or back out altogether – Joe flung the cube as hard as he could. Through some stroke of fortune the heavy piece of furniture barrelled into both of the big cats, like a bowling ball hitting a pair of skittles. The lionesses sprawled onto their sides, their attack on the young woman ceasing temporarily.
“Come on!” Joe shouted, holding out his hand.
The woman looked at him, quaking with fear against one of the snack machines. The shock in her round, hazel-brown eyes made her seem more like a cartoon character than a human being.
“Come on!” Joe shouted again, louder.
Finally, the woman started to move, edging toward him slowly.
Get yourself moving, woman! I don’t fancy dying today.
One lioness back on her feet. Coiled up. Ready to pounce. The woman saw this and stopped. She looked at Joe pleadingly.
There was only one thing on Joe’s mind and he expressed it earnestly. “RUN!”
Thankfully, she did as directed and the two of them bolted. Up ahead, people screamed hysterically, rational thought blocked by sheer terror and incomprehension. Joe wanted to help them. He stopped and shouted as loudly as he could. “Get in to the next room. Everyone, follow me, now!”
Joe’s words were almost pointless. One or two people responded, joining him and the young woman in their sprint toward the back of the room, but a majority continued screaming aimlessly. There was nothing Joe could do for these people. They wouldn’t even help themselves.
Up ahead on the left was a wooden, red-painted door that read STAFF ONLY. Joe was sure it led to what the curator had called “The Research Wing.”
Roaring – from behind Joe – so loud it made his fillings ache. Without looking he knew that the lions were giving chase, their instincts unable to resist the sight of fleeing prey. He could almost feel their rancid, blood-soaked breath on the back of his neck and expected to feel their thick claws slicing through the sinewy fibres of his thighs any second. Joe picked up as much speed as he could muster.
He just prayed it was enough.
Enough to outrun a lion…
When he and a handful of others reached the thick red door, Joe slammed right into it, unable to slow down in time to stop. It was then that he noticed the entrance was locked, an ominous steel number pad set beside it on the wall. He bashed at it with his fists, hammering until his skin cracked, but it would not swing open. Behind Joe, the others gathered frantically. Behind them, all four lions approached, led by the male with the thick, blood-soaked mane.
“What do we do?” asked the young brunette woman.
Joe shook his head. “I don’t know.”
To his surprise, she laughed. “Fabulous!”
The lions were upon them fast. The assembled group shoved one another to get to the back where it was safer. Those at the front began screaming and one man, dressed in a grubby chef’s
uniform, was knocked forwards onto his knees by the people behind.
The lions were on him in seconds.
As a single unit, the muscled predators pounced, pinning the chef to the floor with their huge round paws. The male lion was the first to draw blood, tearing off a chunk of stringy flesh from the chef’s neck with its powerful jaws. A torrent of steaming blood arced high into the air and spattered his grubby white tunic.
At least Danny will be safe, Joe thought to himself through the growing haziness of his fear-soaked mind. Even if his father gets eaten by a lion. Little bit of therapy and he’ll be fine.
Joe swallowed.
He watched the ensuing chaos and finally lost all feeling – from each of his fingertips to all ten of his toes. He could no longer think in a straight line, the adrenaline dissipating through his body sending him into a dazed void of inaction. One-by-one, the members of the group were taken down by the lions, bitten and mauled like ragdolls. It would not be long until Joe’s turn was next, the three of four people in front of him his only protection. He stared the male lion in its amber-flecked eyes and was met with a rumbling growl from its gore-encrusted mouth.
The people in front of Joe fell quickly, kicking out and fighting with every ounce of spirit they had left, but dying anyway, right at his feet. He stood motionless and unable to help them – a helpless voyeur of their human tragedy.
One by one, people screamed and died.
Eventually, Joe’s turn to join them arrived. The lions snarled. The lions pounced.
Unseen hands pulled Joe backwards. He fell hard onto his side, the impact stealing his breath away. It was a full moment later, when the vision-stars cleared, that he found himself lying in a cramped corridor. Other people piled in through a nearby door, pushing and heaving through the narrow gap, while further beyond there came cries of agony from those unlucky enough not to make it through.
A hand grabbed Joe around the shoulder. When he looked up, he saw that it belonged to the grey-haired curator. Joe got to his feet with difficulty, still struggling for breath. “Where’s…my…son?”
“Over there.” The curator pointed to a bench against the wall. Danny sat there, safe, yet clearly scared if the sickly pallor of his usually rosy cheeks was anything to go by. Joe’s lungs deflated as the stress and terror finally fled the rigid fibres of his body. His son was unharmed. He could relax.
“We have to get that door locked back up,” the curator asserted. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it locked behind me while you were out there.”
“Forget about it,” Joe said. “There’re people still out there though. We have to help them.”
“We cannot. You’ve already helped as many as you can, and if we don’t get that door secured, right now, then none of us will be safe.”
Joe knew the logic was correct, but it didn’t make the decision any easier. He thought about Danny’s safety and made up his mind. “Okay. Let’s get it closed.”
Joe and the curator rushed over to the thick wooden door and pushed against it, shoving back the half-score of desperate people behind it. There were agonised pleas for help, begging that the door not be closed, but there was no hope in saving them all – or any of them now. In fact, most were already half torn apart, limb hanging from limb, leaving ragged stumps behind. Even those still mobile were bleeding and shocked, wandering around like shell-shocked teenagers on the beaches of Omaha. Except for one man further back who was still managing to put up a fight.
The guy from earlier, Joe noticed. The one from the patio.
The Black man with the grey sideburns had blocked Joe’s way earlier. Now he was trying his best to fight the lions and help those under attack. The man wielded a fire extinguisher and was spraying foam into the faces of the lions, forcing them to back away, disorientated.
“He’s trying to save everyone,” said Joe, and for a moment he thought the man might just do it.
But then the male lion took him down, blindsiding him as he concentrated on one of the lionesses. Joe heard the man cry out as he hit the deck hard. If it wasn’t for the extinguisher in his hands, blocking the lethal bite of the lion, the guy would already be dead. Joe looked around and noticed the three lionesses were still disorientated, pawing at their faces as they tried to clear the foam from their airways.
Just the male left. I can help this guy.
Joe stopped thinking. He forced his rubbery legs to take him away from the safety of the corridor and back into the hell of the hall. Exertion made his knees feel like hot coals. The struggling man was still unharmed, fending off several attacks by using the extinguisher as a shield.
Joe picked up pace.
Reaching the lion, he swung his leg into the hardest kick he could muster. His foot connected with the side of the lion’s head, and a sharp, white-hot jolt of electric pain shot through his toes. The blow had almost no effect on its target, however. The lion flinched, but seemed more irritated than injured.
Shit balls!
The lion let out an almighty roar. It was at that point the Black man readjusted the fire extinguisher’s nozzle and pulled back the handle. Gloopy jets of foam shot into the male lion’s mouth, cutting off its ear-splitting roar and reducing it to a confused whimper. The big-cat leapt back, choking, hacking, and rubbing its maw against the floor.
Joe pulled the man up and the two of them staggered back towards the corridor as quickly as their battered bodies would allow them. All around, fierce lions lay mewling like wounded kittens. The whole fucked-up situation was surreal – like Alice in Wonderland on crack.
The two men passed through the door into the corridor. The waiting curator slammed it shut behind them, the automatic bolt closing with an echoing clack! Joe slumped back against the door and took a deep breath. It felt like the first in a long time and it stabbed at his lungs as if he were breathing in carpet tacks. His heart was threatening to rip right through his chest. But at least Danny was still safe, still sitting on the bench against wall. The young brunette woman was looking after him. Joe’s heartbeat slowed down a little, but he couldn’t help shake the feeling that things were not yet over.
In fact, he had a feeling they were going to get worse.
Chapter Three
“Time I learned your name, sir.”
“It’s Joe.”
The curator shook his hand. “My name is Mason. I am the head curator at the zoo and I thank you for all your help. I don’t think I could have taken charge like that.”
“Just wish so many people hadn’t gotten hurt. How many made it?”
“There’s seven of us, including you and you son, but even more people would have been injured if it wasn’t for you, Joe. You’re a hero and people owe their lives-”
A short and fat, pudgy man with neatly-combed, oil-black hair wedged himself between the two of them. He glared at Mason. “Perhaps you two could stop flirting for one moment and tell me what the hell is going on! I can tell you right now that this wretched place will never again open its doors to the public after I’m through with it.”
Mason’s expression did not change. “And who might you be, sir?”
The pudgy man seemed furious, his piggish features scrunched up in disapproval. “Who am I? Who am I? I am Christopher-bloody-Randall! That’s who I am.”
Mason shook his head. “I’m sorry?”
“From Stote Investments Limited. It was my company that paid for this very building you’re standing in right now. Show me a little more respect, because I have a good mind to demand my investment right back. This is not what I expected when I came here for a simple business meeting this morning. It’s a fiasco.”
Again, without any discernible expression, Mason shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t involve myself with the zoo’s finances. That would be the concern of the park administrators and I’m afraid they don’t work weekends. I apologise for any inconvenience to you, Mr Randall, but I think you can clearly see that we are all equally affected by the day’s events.”
The angry little man went bright red now and began to wheeze. Spittle formed at the corners of his bulbous lips. “Now you listen here. I own this building, which means I own you. I need to get out of here immediately, do you hear me? My business here is finished and I have a very important meeting to get--”
Joe had heard enough. “Look, mate, I don’t know what mental illness you’re currently taking medication for, but people are dead and lots more are injured. Don’t think anyone gives two shits if you have a business meeting with the Queen. Unless you intend to be helpful, please just do us all a favour and fuck off!”
The investor spun to face Joe, toe to toe, but seemed to lose some of his spirit when he realised the difference in size and height. Joe probably weighed four-stone more than the man and towered over him like a bronze statue.
Thrillobytes: bite-sized horror Page 6