The BIG Horror Pack 2

by Iain Rob Wright

  The man still hadn’t lost his attitude completely, though. “How dare you speak to me like that. Do you know who I am?”

  “You’re Lord Randall of Asshole-land. Thanks, got it, don’t care. Just sit down while Mason and I actually try to do something constructive.”

  Randall shook with anger, glaring at Joe as if he were excrement on his Ralph Lauren loafers. Fortunately it seemed he had finally run out of patience and he stormed off down the corridor. Joe took the opportunity to glance over at Danny, wondering if he should go and check on him. His son had lain himself down across the brunette woman’s lap and was nearly asleep. Joe decided to leave him alone for a few minutes more.

  He turned his focus back to Mason. “That guy was a jackass.”

  Mason nodded. “Investors always are. Black Remedy bought shares in the zoo last year and they’ve acted like they own the place ever since. They don’t see the zoo as way of preserving the world’s great nature, they just see pound signs. Still, he has a right to be angry after what has happened today. No doubt he is correct about the zoo’s future being rather bleak.”

  “How could this happen, Mason?”

  “I really can’t say. Nothing like this has ever happened before. All of the dangerous animals are kept inside high-security enclosures. The only way in or out is through twin-layer fences. You enter one, close it, and then open the second. There’s no way an animal can escape.”

  Joe nodded. “I understand the type of thing you mean, but, whether it’s plausible or not, the lions got out somehow.”

  “Indeed they did.”

  Joe waited for further comment, but it appeared that the curator had none to make, so he decided to speak instead. “Okay, just keep trying to reach someone on your radio. I’m going to go check on my son.”

  Mason nodded and Joe left him alone under the bright lights of the corridor. Over on the bench, Danny was still lying on the brunette woman’s lap. She was stroking his head tenderly. Beneath the harsh light, Joe could see that the woman’s wounds were shallow and already healing. She’d been lucky.

  “Hey,” Joe said as he approached her. “Thanks for looking after my son.”

  She smiled glumly and it was then that Joe saw she was in fact just a girl, not a woman. Dark bags beneath each of her eyes gave the impression that she was older, but her smooth white skin betrayed her real youth.

  About twenty maybe?

  “Least I can do after you saved my life,” she said.

  Joe blushed. “Wouldn’t go that far.”

  “I would.” The girl offered out her hand. It was slender and recently manicured, but many of the painted-pink nails were chipped and broken, probably from her ordeal between the snack machines. “I’m Grace.”

  Joe noticed a recently-healed scar that lined the back of her wrist, along with several older, faded wounds. He didn’t want to be rude by staring, so he averted his eyes. “Pleased to meet you, Grace,” he said and the two shook hands. “I’m Joe and this is--”

  “Danny. Yeah, I know. He told me before taking a nap. He was worried about you out there. You shouldn’t be such a hero.”

  Joe acknowledged his selfishness. If he’d been hurt then Danny would be all alone in this dangerous situation. What the hell was he thinking, running around out there like Joe-the-lion-tamer? He couldn’t risk leaving Danny alone again.

  I won’t.

  “Mind if I wake him?” he asked.

  Grace laughed. The sound was delicate and fragile. “He’s your son. Be my guest.”

  Joe knelt beside Danny and gently shook one of his tiny legs. “Hey, little dude! You awake?”

  Danny opened his eyes slowly, pupils widening gradually like ink stains on cloth.

  “Everything is okay now,” said Joe. “Daddy’s back.”

  Danny smiled and closed his eyes again as if wanting to get back to some wonderful dream. He muttered under his breath, “Can I stay here with Grace?”

  Joe raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Danny to form bonds so quickly – not since the divorce – but he supposed it couldn’t hurt. Joe looked up at Grace. “That okay?”

  Grace nodded. “Sure. Could kind of do with a rest myself. Wish I could just switch off like him.”

  “There’s a quiet-room on the right,” said Mason, approaching from down the corridor with walkie talkie still in hand. “It’s where we put visitors when they’re not feeling well. There’s a sofa-bed inside.”

  “Excellent!” said Grace, her face lighting up like a beacon. “Come on, Danny.”

  Joe watched the girl lead his son to the room on the opposite side of the corridor before disappearing inside. For some reason he trusted her, and he relaxed knowing that Danny was in her care. Maybe it was the feeling of having a women’s support that made him feel that way.

  It’s been a while.

  Mason placed a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “I couldn’t reach anyone. I got some static and some garbled voices, but nothing I could get a fix on. From the brief connections I made, things seemed pretty bad. No one is answering.”

  Joe raised his eyebrows. “No one at all?”

  Mason’s stiff expression gave nothing away about his feelings, but Joe had a feeling the man was beginning to crack. Slender creases at the corners of his eyes seemed to widen as he spoke. “There are a dozen zoo keepers here today and they all carry walkie talkies – just like this one. Not one of them is replying. I can’t imagine what that means.”

  “I can,” said Joe, “and it’s not a nice thing to think about. You tried phoning anyone outside the zoo?”

  Mason shook his head. “That was what I was going to do next. There are phones in the offices upstairs. I should be able to call right through to the administration building at the rear entrance. Office staff don’t generally work the weekends, but there’s usually one or two people there on a Saturday. Mr Randall said he was here this morning for a meeting, so perhaps the members of the board are around too. They may be able to shed some light on the current situation.”

  “Good,” said Joe, scratching the stubble on his wide chin. It seemed to have grown inches in just the last hour. “What about the building we’re in? Can we get out any other way than the door we came through?”

  “There’s a fire exit at the end of this corridor and we can also enter the cafeteria, which has several more exits. I don’t know if it would be wise to try to leave, however.”

  Joe looked up and down the corridor, taking in the scene of shellshocked survivors. In addition to the rude investor, Mr Randall, there was also an elderly woman with grey hair sitting right next to a heavily-tattooed bald man. It was a strange sight to see such opposites placed side-by-side.

  “I think I agree,” Joe said after some consideration. “My son and I are going nowhere until those lions are dealt with.”

  Mason adjusted his spectacles. “We should get everyone assembled and come up with a plan, even if it’s only to sit and wait for rescue.”

  “Agreed,” said Joe. “Is there somewhere more comfortable we can all go? I don’t think people will be able to calm down in this corridor. It’s too close to what happened.”

  Mason took Joe’s arms and led him a few feet down the corridor. “There’s a staffroom in this part of the building. It’s a large area with enough places to sit and a few refreshments. I’d say it would be best place to reconvene for now. We can always move upstairs later if we need to. The building is pretty much empty, today being the weekend. They’ll be plenty of room. In fact, I think we’re the only ones here.”

  “Let’s get going then.”

  Mason clapped his hands together and got the attention of the other shell-shocked survivors. “Okay everyone, can I have your attention, please?”

  Silence from everyone. Glazed expressions and teary cheeks. From the other side of the exit door, the wet smacking sounds of lions feeding on corpses could be heard in vivid detail.

  Mason continued, despite the lack of audience response. “We are going to
follow this corridor down to its end and enter a staffroom beyond. It is comfortable there, warm and safe. We should gather whilst we wait to learn more about this…situation.”

  “And what is the situation?” asked the Black man with the grey sideburns. He was still carrying his dented fire extinguisher.

  “We don’t know,” Mason answered. “Obviously there has been a breach in the lion enclosure, but as to how that happened, I do not know. I will try to contact the administration building shortly – and the emergency services of course – but first we need to get ourselves situated.”

  “Who are you to give orders?” It was the investor, Randall. The man’s mood had obviously not improved.

  “I am no one to give orders,” Mason calmly told him, “but as the only one offering practical advice, I see no harm in having people do as I say for the time being.”

  “If you hadn’t allowed this to happen in the first place then I would have a little more trust to afford to you, my friend.”

  “Mr Randall, if you feel better blaming me personally I am happy for you to do so, but my advice is that we group together somewhere more comfortable. If you or anybody else does not wish to follow that advice then you are free to do as you like. Those who do wish to follow my suggestion may come with myself and Joe, who, may I remind you, was the one that helped a majority of you in the first place.”

  “If that’s your advice,” said the man with grey sideburns. “Then that’s what I’ll do. I don’t see the point in all this negativity and arguing.” The last comment was directed at Randall who seemed less than impressed at being called out.

  “Let’s go then,” said Joe. “I’ll get Grace and my son and we’ll be off in five.”

  A heavy thud rattled the red door behind them on its hinges. The lions were trying to break through into the corridor.

  Joe’s eyes widened. “Or maybe we should get going right now.”

  Chapter Four

  Randall could not believe he was running down a corridor to get away from lions. It was the biggest screw-up he had ever known, and when it was all over this dump of a zoo would pay for it. To think his company had actually provided obscene amounts of cash to improve the facilities here. Positive publicity, the marketers had claimed. What a load of rubbish. He’d be claiming back every penny now and more. The place could rot for all he cared.

  “This is ridiculous,” said Randall – wheezing heavily – to a tattooed man running alongside him. “Don’t they have guns here…or… or something in place to control animals when they…get loose?”

  “Tell me about it!” The man’s reply was in a thick Scottish accent. The word ‘about’ sounded like ‘a-boot’ from the man’s uncouth mouth. “They must be running the place with a bunch of wee ten-year-olds. Someone is gonna be knee-deep in bother when this is over, mark my words.”

  Randall sniggered. “You can say that again, my friend.”

  The shambling group of survivors slowed down at the end of the corridor and the idiot curator turned to face them all. “Okay everyone, once we get inside we should barricade the doors right away. I don’t think I need to tell you why.” The man paused so that they could all listen to the banging coming from the door down the corridor behind them. Randall didn’t appreciate the dramatics, but kept his silence as the man continued. “Once that is done, we can all do our best to relax while I try to contact the authorities.”

  No one spoke and Randall didn’t blame them. What was there to say in a ridiculous situation like this? And to take orders from one of the men responsible for it made things all the more worse.

  The curator pushed open the door at the end of the corridor and stood aside whilst people filed into the room ahead. Randall listened to the erratic thudding getting louder behind them. It was all very confusing.

  Can lions behave like this? Smashing through doors to get at people after already devouring several bodies already? It can’t be hunger.

  The tattooed man beside Randall patted him on the back. “They best have a kettle in there, pal. I could kill a brew.”

  Randall took exception to being touched by the rough-looking gentleman, but even more to being called ‘pal’. He didn’t acknowledge his disapproval, however, because he was next in line to enter the staffroom up ahead. Randall stepped through into a large teal-carpeted room, featuring several sets of brand-new tables and chairs, several vending machines, two pool tables, and a modest kitchenette. The room was backed by a horizontal window that ran the entire length of the wall.

  Is this what our money paid for? Somewhere for staff to laze about? Maybe they should have spent the money on better security for the animal enclosures. Then I wouldn’t be suing them into bankruptcy.

  Randall found a seat and placed himself down while the rest of the group seated themselves. It felt good to take the weight off his feet, gave him a chance to use his inhaler. It would not do to idle for too long, though, because he had somewhere important to be. The head of one of the China’s biggest tire manufacturers would be waiting on him to discuss an investment in their UK strategy. It was just one more industry that the Chinks were planning to monopolise and Randall decided it was better to get into bed with them than to resist. It could cost Randall’s company millions if he missed the meeting – and Black Remedy were not a firm that took kindly to incompetence. There was a long line of other investors eager to make the deal with the Chinese if Randall didn’t. Lions or no lions, he had to get out of there.

  I’ll spare ten more minutes, then enough is enough.

  The curator stepped into the staffroom along with his giant blond accomplice, the one who had been rude to Randall earlier. A young brunette girl and a small boy with a tatty backpack also accompanied them. He was pretty sure that the boy belonged to the blond man.

  Probably an insolent little brat like his father.

  The curator pushed the door closed and locked it, then turned to face the group. “This door is not especially heavy,” he said, “so I think it would be wise to slide one of the pool tables in front of it. Do I have any volunteers?”

  Yeah right! Randall scoffed. Don’t expect me to start lugging furniture around for you.

  There were a few volunteers but Randall paid them no mind. The only concern he had right now were the ticking hands on his Omega watch. Each second could be costing him money.

  This will not do. We must wrap this up so I can get out of here.

  Several minutes passed, the aimless fools just about managing to push one of the pool tables up against the door. Unbelievably, they had started playing a game on the other table.

  What do they think this is? Break Time?

  “Right!” The curator cleared his throat and addressed everyone once again. “Now that we have secured our safety, I should introduce myself. My name is Mason and I work here at the zoo. Unfortunately, I have no more knowledge of the current events than anybody else. I will, however, be going upstairs shortly to use one of the office phones to try and contact the authorities. Before that, might I ask if anyone has a cell phone?”

  The group looked around themselves, but no one answered. Randall could have said ‘yes’, but he wasn’t about to offer up his possessions to a bunch of fools.

  Mason raised an eyebrow above his spectacles. “Really? No one has one? I thought the whole world had mobile phones these days?”

  “Yeah,” added a Black man with grey sideburns who looked a lot like Bill Cosby. He was holding up a piece of shattered plastic with various wires hanging out of it. “But mine got pretty bashed up during the attack, as you can see. I tried making a call, but the thing won’t even switch on anymore.”

  The young girl spoke. “I had one in my bag. My bag is outside. I think we all just ran for our lives, without really thinking about our belongings.”

  Not me. Randall smirked. Too bad the rest of you are unorganised idiots. I made sure to keep a hold of my possessions.

  Mason nodded thoughtfully and then shrugged. “A shame, but no
t much we can do about it now. Okay, I’ll go try to find some answers for everyone.”

  “Make sure you find them in the next five minutes,” said Randall, using the commanding tone that he had perfected throughout years of boardroom conflicts.

  Mason sighed. “Mr Randall, I do not wish to do battle with you again. Please try to see-”

  “No, you try to see how much you have caused us all an inconvenience. None of us should be sitting here right now, in danger, no less. You need to remedy this situation immediately – and I mean immediately.”

  “Yeah!” The agreement came from the bald tattooed man. “This has gone way beyond a bloody joke, pal!”

  Mason sighed once more and Randall was sure that the man was defeated. “I implore you to be patient and in return I will do my upmost to get this situation resolved as quickly as possible. I can only do my best to make sense of things. For now the only place we know that is safe is here, inside this building. I’ll go now and try to make contact with somebody in authority.”

  Randall relaxed back in his chair and smiled like a fox after dinner. “See that you do, my friend.” Despite the curator’s obvious skill in keeping a straight face, Randall could see tiny rivulets of irritation soaking into the man’s expression. It pleased Randall.

  “Afterwards,” he added, “I would request that everyone give me their contact details. I will be taking this establishment to the courts and anyone that wishes to join me in that pursuit will be most welcome.”

  “I’m with ya, pal,” the tattooed man replied.

  “As am I,” said a middle-aged woman with wispy grey hair and bifocals. “Someone has to be punished.”

  Randall couldn’t help but grin. Splendid. Looks like I have a nice foundation for my case already. The more angry voices in a courtroom the better.

  “Why you gotta be such a dick, man?” It was the Black man, standing by the pool table, cue in hand. “Can’t you see the trouble we’re in? People are dead and all you can think about is your damn self.”

  Who the hell does he think he is to question me?