Patrick went on to describe how his best buddy was killed right beside him one night. It was pitch black, and Patrick desperately wanted—needed—a cigarette, but they didn’t dare light one up for fear the enemy would spot them and shoot. He and his buddy decided to hide in some bushes and share a smoke under the cover of the foliage, the need for a cigarette being great enough for them to risk their lives, they thought. As they sat and smoked, a knife came whizzing through the leaves, stabbing his friend in the neck. As he lay there gurgling, cigarette still hanging out of his mouth, Patrick grabbed the knife and hurtled it back through the bush in the direction it had come.
Patrick’s voice had risen to a shrill, half-crazed tremble. I didn’t actually see it when he reached into his waistband and pulled out a big hunting knife and hurtled it toward Sara, but I heard it coming. It seemed like it was traveling in slow motion and in the same slow motion, I thrust out my hand to deflect it. I managed to tip the handle enough for it to just nick Sara’s arm before it continued off into the darkness. For a second, I felt all the adrenaline, fear, and torture that Patrick and his fellow Marines must have endured. The whole experience was surreal and frightening.
When Patrick calmed down a bit, after the crazed look faded from his eyes, he was inconsolably sorry he had hurt Sara. He cried and sobbed over her for several minutes while she repeatedly reassured him that she was okay. I wasn’t okay, though. All the fear of the night we escaped from the gang hit me like a sledgehammer. I felt that nowhere was safe for us in this crazy new world that Time had forgotten.
Chapter 20
The Beast
The summer came and went with the blur of everyday monotony. Though the days were still warm, at sunset the temperature cooled quickly and darkness fell early. We began to leave the communal fire earlier and sleep in our tent. Even with the dog beds and several blankets, we often woke up shivering and couldn’t wait to stoke our ever-burning pit fire to get warm.
One chilly autumn morning—it must have been late September or early October—Sara and I arrived at the zoo to help the keepers for the day. We noticed right away that something wasn’t right because the keepers weren’t where they could usually be found at that time of day. We also noticed the absence of the lion’s occasional roar. We had gotten so used to hearing him roar every half hour or so throughout the day, we normally didn’t even notice his plaintive wails, but today, the absence of them was even louder than the roar. It reminded me of how deafening the absence of traffic and sirens was after PF Day when I had lived downtown.
We searched the zoo, starting at the Africa section, because we feared that something was wrong with the lion. He was in his pen looking lazy and satisfied, as a lion should, although he was unusually quiet. Puzzled, we continued searching until we came to the savannah area of the zoo, which sat below the hill from the lion enclosure. From the gate of the savannah land, we could see all five of the keepers crouched down around the body of some kind of antelope. We couldn’t tell if it was alive or dead from this far away, but it was obvious that the keepers were frantically trying to do something to it. Not with the slow, measured motions of butchering, but with an urgency that seemed to represent life-saving methods.
We entered the enclosure and sprinted to the group. As we neared, we could tell that it wasn’t the large animal they were working on, but a calf that was mewling softly yet plaintively. It and its mother looked like small deer, although I knew from working with them that they were really impala, a species of antelope. We knelt beside the keepers who were pressing bandages against the baby’s bleeding flesh, trying to stop the blood loss. They explained that the mother and calf had been attacked by something big with claws and teeth, and we were sickened by the appearance of the mother impala. Her body was torn to shreds and half eaten.
One of the keepers, Jim I think, told me to hold the calf’s head so they could try to stitch up its gashes. As I held its head tightly in my lap, it looked up at me, its doe eyes wide with fear and shock, imploring me to help it or maybe just to let it go. It convulsed suddenly, kicking out its legs in all directions and almost striking the keepers with its tiny hooves. Then it slackened, its tongue lolled out, and its head fell back limp on my lap. I watched as the light in its deep moist eyes dimmed and then went out altogether, like someone had turned down a dimmer switch on a lamp. It was the first time I had actually witnessed the death of a mammal and it affected me greatly. I had seen animals and people after they had died, I had killed fish and birds and frogs, I had even been responsible for the deaths of small animals in my snares and traps, but never had a mammal died before me, let alone in my arms. This animal meant nothing to me, yet its death thrust a knife through my heart and I couldn’t stop a tear from sliding down my face. I didn’t need to be embarrassed, though, because when I looked up, it seemed everyone was affected by the loss of this innocent creature.
We talked about it later in hushed tones like we didn’t want anyone around to hear us. The keepers couldn’t figure out what animal could have done this. It seemed pretty obvious that it was a big cat, but the lion and the two brother tigers were still in their enclosures, as were the few cheetahs and leopards that were left. The keepers thought it possible that a wild mountain lion had somehow entered the zoo, lured in by the strong odor of dead and dying animals. The ground in the savannah land enclosure was too dry and covered with the hoof prints of panicked animals to distinguish a cat track, so it remained a mystery. None of us could quite understand why the death of this little animal affected us so much more than the hundreds of other animals and thousands of people that had died since PF Day. Maybe it was because we had a chance to save it and couldn’t. Or because it had seen its mother get eaten and needed us to fill in the maternal role. Or maybe it was just its innocence, its tragically shortened life. Whatever the case, I couldn’t shake the image of its pleading eyes staring into mine.
I stayed away from the zoo for a couple of weeks after that day, always using excuses like I was tired, or didn’t feel good, or that I wanted to do some fishing and hunting to make sure we had enough food for the coming winter months. Sara went without me, never questioning my real motives. I suspected she knew exactly what ailed me, but didn’t let on because she knew how much it had bothered me.
One warm autumn afternoon, Sara came back from the zoo to find me fileting my successful catch of catfish and bass to smoke over the fire. I could tell there was something she wanted to tell me, but she was oddly reluctant. Finally she just came out with it.
—The power’s out again.
I had thought I’d heard some popping noises, but our campsite was at the bottom of a deep ravine and sounds from the outside world filtered down to us muffled and distorted. I had ignored them, just like I usually did. Yet I couldn’t help but be a little curious about it.
—Does anyone know what happened?
—They think it was another CME. All hell’s breaking loose up there again—explosions, fires, panic…
I shook my head and went back to my work. Strangely, this time the power outage had absolutely no effect on me. I told Sara as much.
—Well, I’m glad we’re down here, so we’re missing out on all the drama.
—You know what this means, don’t you?
—No, should I?
—No more electricity—probably forever.
Something in her tone made me look up. I expected to see worry on her face, but instead there was a slight smile.
—No more school, no more institutions, no more running and hiding… We could find a place…
I thought about that for a minute.
—You don’t like living here?
—Yes, but winter’s coming. It’ll be really hard, you know. I’m not sure I’m up to it.
—Maybe the keepers would let us stay with them.
—Maybe… But today they were wondering if it is even worth it anymore. The zoo will never be open again now. The animals are all going to die eventually. They
were thinking about letting the herbivores that are left just run free.
—What about the carnivores?
Sara shook her head sadly.
—I don’t know. They kind of avoided that subject altogether.
It was a desolate thought. Before coming to Swope Park, I hadn't liked animals much, not even cats and dogs. But since coming there and helping to care for them for several months, I felt responsible for them, like they were they were my kids or something. I know the keepers felt the same way, so for them to be thinking of abandoning their charges told me how desperate they thought the situation was. I thought about it the entire evening and lay awake that night wondering what was going to become of the animals and of us.
Chapter 21
Attack
I must have fallen asleep sometime during the night because I was suddenly awakened by the rustling of leaves and the sound of an animal sniffing around outside of the tent right beside my head. It took my eyes a few seconds to open and when they did, I was startled to see the shadow of some big animal right outside the tent. Its hulking body was facing the tent head-on with its snout on the ground. It could have been a bear or a mountain lion or even a huge wild man. I could smell its musky scent when the cold breeze blew our way; I was thankful the breeze was blowing that way so the animal couldn’t smell us. I froze, holding my breath so the beast wouldn’t hear me breathe.
After a couple of seconds, it made a series of low grunts, then turned toward the back of the tent. I almost gasped when I saw the silhouette of a very large feline looming over the tent. I was suddenly panicked by the memory of the mangled impala and its dying calf. I fervently prayed that Sara wouldn’t wake up or make any noise in her sleep and that the predator would find something else to prey on. I was to regret that prayer very soon.
The cat seemed to catch a whiff of something as it raised its snout high in the air. It froze for a second then crouched down into stealth mode. It crept off slowly, gingerly picking its way among the dried leaves in virtual silence. Only after several minutes was I able to move again and quietly woke Sara, holding my finger to my lips to warn her into silence. I think Sara must have been able to see the fear in my eyes by the light of the almost-full moon filtering through the tent because she was immediately on alert. We scurried to arm ourselves with knives and put on our shoes and coats, just in case.
As soon as we were dressed, we heard a distant growl and then a blood-curdling scream. It sounded like a terrified animal, but soon turned into a man’s urgent strangled call for help. Sara jumped up to try to help, but I grabbed her arm and held her back. I was ashamed at my cowardice, but I knew we were no match for a mountain lion or whatever it was out there. Sara didn’t care; she threw my arm off angrily and unzipped the tent, leaping through the opening before I could get a good hold on her again. I had no choice but to follow.
The man’s screams were lessening as we ran toward the sound, and I knew it must be one of the poor lost souls, who still slept in the open despite the cold and our gift of a tent. After we had run a hundred yards or so, the cat let out a roar that sounded like the zoo lion, though not plaintive and lonely this time, but angry and hurt. We stopped in fear and dread. The roar stopped abruptly at the same time as the man’s moans. Cautiously, we approached and what we saw froze us in our tracks.
In a clearing, with the moon shining its ever-smiling face benevolently on the scene, lay the animal, its side heaving with the effort of staying alive. Beside it lay the body of a man, though we couldn’t see who it was quite yet. He started moaning again, so I knew he was still alive, but I was afraid to come near to help him in case the predator still had some fight left in him. As usual, Sara had different ideas and started toward him. I caught her roughly and pulled her back, trying to reason with her.
—We need to get help. We can’t take care of this alone.
—He needs our help now!
—Okay, I’ll help him and you go find the others.
I was able to convince her apparently, because she ran off up the hill to where she knew Aaron was camped. If anyone knew how to help, it would be Aaron. I could hear her yelling for him as she scrambled in the loose leaves. My bravado was short-lived, though, as I faced the thought of actually going forward to help the poor man. I hesitated until I saw Patrick raise his head and heard him call my name breathlessly. I swallowed my fear and cautiously moved to his side. My heart leapt into my throat when I saw that the predator was indeed the zoo lion and it almost stopped when the lion weakly raised its head and looked me in the eyes. Gone was the glare of the predator I had experienced the first time I visited the zoo, and in its place was resignation. He lay back down with a grunt.
Patrick was clutching a big knife, the one he had thrown at Sara just weeks before. It was covered with blood, as was he himself. It was hard to see where or how he was hurt since there was so much blood. I grabbed his shredded blankets and pressed them to his wounds, trying to stop the blood. His face seemed to be untouched, but the back of his head was a shiny black, sticky mess. Between gasps, he told me what happened.
—He got me from behind, Ben. It took me a while to get my knife out to stab him. I got the commie bastard, though! Just like he got Joey.
I wasn’t sure if Patrick knew it was a lion that had attacked him or if he was lost in his memories again, but I tried to calm him down in any case.
—Yeah, you got him, Patrick. He’s dying. You got him good. Now lie still so I can stop your bleeding.
By the time Sara came back, with Aaron, the keepers, and a few of the lost souls, Patrick had given up. He died happy to have finally defeated the enemy that had haunted his dreams for the last forty years of his life. I didn’t cry at his death like I had the baby impala, yet I felt defeated and numb. Patrick was just another life I had failed to save in that miserable year. I wondered when all the death would end. I feared it wasn’t about to anytime soon.
Someone had found a policeman, who somehow had alerted others—they must have figured out a way to communicate when the power was off before—and soon there were several surrounding the lion and Patrick. The lion was still alive, but the keepers and the cops agreed that it should be put down, both because of its condition and the fact that it had killed a man. The keepers seemed sad but resigned to its fate. Even though Sara believed we would be left alone, we hid while the police were there, just in case.
The next day, several policemen and highway patrolmen came to the zoo to put down the rest of the predators. Everyone knew instinctively that the power might never come back on since all the replacement transformers were destroyed by the second CME, and it would take years, maybe even decades to manufacture new ones. The keepers had known the day before that they couldn’t sustain the predators of the zoo much longer and had decided among themselves to euthanize them soon anyway. It was a sad day in Swope Park, nonetheless.
After the police left, Sara and I went to the zoo to help the keepers tie up some loose ends. We opened the gates of the herbivores’ enclosures. We didn’t think they’d survive for long, but we wanted to give them a fighting chance. We were sad that we were forced to leave the primates locked up because even though they weren’t normally predators, they still posed a grave threat to people. They had a shot at survival, though, because their enclosures had lots of natural foliage and fruit trees. If they could make it through the winter, they might be okay, but that was rather doubtful. We gathered up all the food we could find and stacked it in their inside areas. Jim and Kyle removed the doors so the animals could not be locked in or out.
The keepers, Sara, and I also inspected the lion’s enclosure, trying to figure out how he escaped to carry out his deadly marauding. It took us a while to figure it out, but we finally found a tree limb that had grown a little too long in the direction of the viewing room. He had had to leap a long way, but he was able to span the distance from the limb, over the deep moat that separated his area from the visitor path, landing on top of the viewing ro
om. It made me shutter to think I had been standing there just a few months before, and I had to wonder if my being on the roof had given him the idea to climb the tree and jump over to it.
After the attack on Patrick, Sara and I were afraid to sleep in our tent, even though we knew the lion and all the other predators in the zoo were gone. We couldn’t shake the feeling that, but for a different wind direction, we could have been the lion’s prey. And we knew there were other predators out there, even in the middle of a big city. The keepers let us stay with them for a few days, but then they decided it was time for them to go back to their homes, if they still stood, and move forward in this new, but already sadly familiar, world.
Chapter 22
Searching
We stayed in the building that the keepers had inhabited for a few weeks, but Sara became adamant about finding some kind of house or apartment to live in now that the power was off again. She said even if we could stay in one of the zoo buildings, she really wanted a bed to sleep in. She reasoned that with so many people having died in the first five months after PF Day, there must be lots of empty places to live. I wasn’t sure I wanted to mess with trying to live in a building again; like Aaron and many of the lost souls, I had come to prefer the freedom of living outdoors. Of course, I hadn’t tried it in winter yet, and I had to admit that Midwestern winters could be extremely harsh at times. The weather had already been quite cold for living outside.
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