The BIG Horror Pack 2

by Iain Rob Wright

  Joe stamped on the brakes so his entire skeleton rattled as he was thrown forward in his seat. The car’s tires bit the road, screeching in protest as they slid. Joe closed his eyes and clutched the steering wheel, hard enough that his knuckles went white.

  The car continued its skid.

  The brick wall got closer.

  With a violent lurch the rubber tires finally found a grip and brought the car to a sudden stop. The whole vehicle rocked forward on its suspension. Joe’s face hit the steering wheel and sent stars through his vision. He pulled himself away, dazed and bleeding. It felt as though his already-damaged nose had been pushed to the back of his skull.

  The engine petered out and Joe looked out at the road. He saw the silverback lying against the brick wall several feet away, a spattering of blood and matted fur mingling with the gushing rainwater on the road. The creature was stunned, but still conscious. Joe’s vision swirled as he tried to stay awake himself.

  His hand shook as he reached for the key to the ignition. Shook as he turned on the engine. Shook even harder as he engaged the reverse gear.

  Joe stepped down hard on the accelerator.

  The car shot backward.

  After twenty metres, he jammed on the brake. The tires screeched. The car stopped moving.

  Into first gear and moving forward.

  Second gear.

  The car reached thirty.

  Joe pulled into third.

  “Danny, get down on the floor!”

  He stamped on the brakes.

  Tyres skidded on the wet road.

  The car hit the wall like a missile.

  Joe was out cold for several seconds. When he eventually came to, all he saw was pure white. He quickly realised that it was just the airbag deployed from the steering wheel. He pulled and pushed at it until it began to hiss and deflate. When it was finally out of the way, Joe screamed.

  “It’s alright, Dad,” said Danny climbing forward into the passenger seat beside him. “He’s dead.”

  Joe looked through the windscreen at the silverback’s face, staring back at him from the end of the bonnet. Any spark of life had left the magnificent beast’s eyes. Crushed between the wall and the vehicle, the mighty Nero, oldest inhabitant of the zoo, had died instantly. Somehow Joe found that comforting.

  He turned to his son. “You okay?”

  Danny nodded and smiled. “That was cool!”

  Joe laughed and then threw his head back against the seat rest. “It certainly was something.”

  “Can we get out of here now? I haven’t watched wrestling in ages.”

  Joe turned the key in the ignition and was astonished when the engine came back to life yet again. After such a collision it was almost a miracle that the vehicle was still willing to keep going. Joe didn’t think about it too much as he reversed away from the wall and pulled out onto the main road. He was thankful for his blessings. From the chaos all around him, it seemed most others were not so lucky. Battered cars lay mangled and twisted against one another in a never-ending pile-up of ruined steel, while torn bodies littered the crimson streets like confetti. The world as they knew it was over now, the natural order forever skewed by the events of the last few days. Joe and Danny were entering a new world now, one where they were at the bottom of the food chain and wild animals roamed the lands.

  But there was one thing that gave Joe hope that perhaps humanity was not quite ready to go meekly into that good night. For almost every human corpse that lay dead amongst the ruins, there was also that of a dead animal. The mutilated dogs, cats, and various other domesticated animals that littered the sidewalks told Joe one thing was for certain: people were fighting back.

  There were still blessings to be found in this world, and Joe’s biggest one was sitting in the seat right beside him. Joe couldn’t help but smile as he and his son started their journey into the unknown, their journey into the Animal Kingdom.

  Epilogue

  Randall could hardly breathe amidst the cloying black smoke. It burnt at his eyes and dried out his throat. He didn’t know what had started the fire, but he had a feeling that Victor had rigged some kind of explosive in case of his death.

  And I witnessed that he is very much dead, indeed.

  Randall placed his fingers against his temples and tried to think. He would have to leave this room soon, but then what? The animals were probably waiting for him, ready to rip him apart as soon as he stepped outside the room, and even if they were not they would most likely be waiting for him outside the building.

  But I have to leave. Either that or stay and burn.

  Randall stood up from the desk and hissed as he accidentally placed his broken ankle down on the floor. He pulled it back up and hopped over to the door. The smoke was hot and blinding, coming from under the door in thick, velvety waves. He closed his eyes and fumbled in his pocket for the key to the room’s lock. When he found it, he wasted no time in unlocking the door.

  Outside was a disorientating mixture of bright-orange flame and jet-black smoke. Randall looked left and right and saw no animals, but also saw no exit. The corridor was aflame at both ends. In front of him was the seminar room. It was no doubt where the fire had started and the books and wooden shelves would have provided all the fuel the fire needed, but now it was simply a smouldering black husk and no longer in flames.

  Randall hopped through the charred doorway and instantly felt some relief from the heat of the corridor. Wind rushed in from the far side of the room and, where there had once been a wall with a window, there was now only a hole. The entire side of the building had come away. Randall hopped forward again and fell onto his hands and knees as the floor beneath him gave way.

  The floor was brittle and blackened. He would have to be careful where he put his weight lest he fall right through it. He had no plan in his mind other than to remain in this room while the rest of the building burned around him. Perhaps the fire would finally attract help and bring someone to his aid.

  About time the army got here.

  Randall crawled forward and encountered the grizzly sight of Victor’s corpse. The man’s body was crisped right down to the bone and his skeleton was blackened and exposed in several places. One of the body’s arms was completely missing, but Randall assumed that it was ripped off by the animals before the fire had begun.

  Over at the far end of the room, Randall reached the floor end. On his chest he pushed forward until his arms and head were hanging over the edge. The air was fresher here and Randall took the opportunity to take in a series of deep breaths.

  Beneath him the animals went wild as they spotted him. Hooting, barking, screeching and making an all manner of inhuman noises, they glared up at him with hunger in their eyes.

  Whilst the animal army had thinned, it was still approaching a hundred in its number, mostly smaller creatures, now, like warthogs and llamas. They surrounded the building and never once took their eyes off Randall.

  Randall pushed himself back up onto his knees and then slowly up onto his one good leg. He looked down at the animals and spat. The globule of spit was lost in the billowing smoke and he did not know if it hit a target. He bellowed with laughter.

  “You will not have me! A leader chooses his own death.” Randall placed a hand over his heart as if he were addressing the nation from some great palatial balcony. “And as any great leader would do, I choose to go down with my ship.”

  Randall stretched his arms out wide on either side of him and looked up and the grey sky. At that exact moment the gentle drizzle burst into a full-grown downpour. Randall took it as a sign. “Deliver me, Lord, from my enemies. They shall not have me.” He looked down at the baying animals below. “You hear that, you fuckers? You shall not have me.”

  Randall leapt, expecting to feel the wind through his hair as he plummeted towards salvation, towards the next life.

  All he felt was the floor as his entire body splintered upon impact. Not a single muscle in his entire body would
answer him as he lay there, still – but he was not dead. He knew that much. As he lay there, he saw an ant scuttle towards him and into his ear. The feeling was intense and vivid. Somehow the fall had not dulled his senses. As the animals surrounded his body, he knew that it was going to be the worst and final agony of his life. They began to eat him alive.

  The pain was a hundred times worse than anything he ever imagined.

  And it went on forever.

  CLOCKING OFF

  “So when will you be able to go back to work?” Jeff’s wife asked, sitting herself down on the sofa opposite him.

  Jeff shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich – cheese and ham. “God knows. Things were pretty bad when I left. The whole plant was billowing smoke a mile into the air.”

  His wife raised her eyebrows. “Do you need to get yourself checked out? What if you’ve breathed in something nasty?”

  Jeff had been concerned with the very same thing earlier. Stote Chemicals, part of the US/UK conglomerate, Black Remedy Corporation, held patents for thousands of different chemicals and compounds, most of which were manufactured right at the processing plant where Jeff worked. Today, when a flash fire took out half the building in a few short minutes, the first thought on his mind was whether or not he was being exposed to something that could kill him – some nasty disease that would start with a tickling cough, but end with his face melting off. Despite being shaken when he had returned home, so far Jeff physically felt fine (aside from his eyes being a little red and sore, irritated from the airborne soot of the fire).

  Jeff shrugged. “The foreman told everyone to go home and call a Doctor if we develop any symptoms, but he told us all that the only chemical that was released into the air was a compound called SIRT1. It’s a substance found in red wine apparently – possibly a cure for diabetes, they say. Completely harmless from what the guys on the mixing-floor tell me.”

  His wife sighed. “Let’s hope so. I really wish you could work maintenance somewhere else – somewhere safer.”

  Jeff leant forward in his armchair and patted his wife on the knee. “This whole thing is likely just a bunch of animal protesters kicking off at Black Remedy as usual. Far as I know, they don’t even use test subjects anymore, but that doesn’t stop the hippies targeting them. Whole thing gets on my tits, if I’m honest, I don’t mind telling you.”

  Jeff’s wife squeezed his hand on her knee. “I know it does, honey. People should just concentrate on their own lives instead of causing trouble. How’s your boss handling things – Mr. Rankin?”

  “Randle. It’s Mr. Randle. Lucky for him, he was off doing meetings all morning. I think he was at the zoo signing off on some investment deal. Fat git probably would’ve had a heart attack if he’d been there when the fire started – if his asthma didn’t kill him first, that is.”

  Jeff’s wife stood up from the sofa, her middle-aged knees popping audibly. “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now, sweetheart. I’ll go put the kettle on while you put your feet up. Lord knows you deserve it.”

  “Okay, luv, thanks,” said Jeff. Resting back into the worn padding of his favourite chair felt good, relaxing. Maybe a couple days off wouldn’t be so bad. He could catch up on some reading – he’d been meaning to tackle Under the Dome for months now – or he could watch the Rugby; maybe do both. The plant would probably be operational again in a day or two, but until then there was no need for getting worked up.

  King sauntered into the living room without sound, bushy black tail swishing circles in the air behind him. The cat was almost ten years old now and getting plump in its old age.

  Jeff smiled and wriggled his fingers on the carpet to attract his pet. “Hey, boy, come to Daddy. You’re wondering why I’m home, ain’t ya?”

  King meowed and padded eagerly across the carpet. The cat’s coat bushed up as Jeff ran his leathery hand over it, loose fur coming away in clumps as the animal raised its rear end into the air with ecstasy. The tomcat enjoyed his fuss as much as ever.

  “That’s a good boy, King. Come on.” Jeff clicked his fingers above his lap, letting the cat know that it was alright to jump up. King happily obliged, leaping up onto his master’s thighs and writhing to and fro as the fussing continued. The cat’s purring started up slowly like a revving motor.

  Jeff felt himself relax and closed his eyes for a moment, letting the morning’s stress melt away. The sight of his workplace going up in flames was almost like a dream now. Everything there was so high-tech that the notion of an industrial accident seemed impossible. Stote Investments was part of one of the biggest corporations in the world, but it seemed that even they were not adverse to cutting corners when it came to the construction of their facilities. They had paid the price for that today.

  Jeff re-opened his eyes when he felt a presence near his face. His beloved cat, King, had stretched out his body, so that his front paws were on Jeff’s chest. The cat’s face was only inches from his own.

  “What you doing, little man?” Jeff asked his pet.

  King did not answer. Instead the cat bit into Jeff’s cheek, needle-like teeth piercing deep to the bone. Jeff screeched in unexpected agony and leapt from the armchair. King remained attached to his face like a furry leech.

  Jeff’s wife rushed into the room and quickly added to her husband’s screams. Jeff fell to his knees as a white hot sickness seized his entire body in thickening waves of shock. The cat continued to rip and tear with its carnivorous jaws – jaws made for rending flesh. Blood flowed down into Jeff’s open mouth, choking him as he struggled to pull King from his face.

  Jeff’s wife thrust the steaming hot cup of tea in her hand onto the cat, but it did nothing to deter the attack and only added to Jeff’s agony as the liquid scorched his skin. Eventually the pain become so intense that Jeff managed to find the force needed to rip the savage creature away from his face, shredding his own flesh to weeping tatters in the process.

  Lying on his back in a heaving, semi-conscious mess, Jeff could just about make out, through his dimming vision, his wife smashing his beloved cat, King, into a bloody pulp with a steam iron. As he finally lost consciousness, he managed to think one last thing to himself:

  Don’t panic, woman.

  HOWARD’S END

  Thirty-six acres of woodland around a house most people could only dream of. Howard still found it hard to believe he was so lucky. One book – that’s all it had taken. One crime novel, written in his spare time, and Howard had found himself a millionaire. It was a big change from selling carpets for a living and, if he was honest, he was still unsure how to deal with the luxuries that had befallen him since a publisher had found gold in his words.

  The indoor swimming pool, the sauna, the billiard room, the outdoor hot tub – they were all wonderful possessions, but somehow they just magnified the lack of the one thing Howard wanted: companionship.

  Howard had been single for over two years now, not because he was unattractive, but more so because he had developed a shyness and need for privacy that was not conducive to finding a mate. People had let him down often enough that he had stopped participating in the social contract of collecting friends while constantly trying to pick up women. He found the whole thing very tiresome and, at times, hurtful. Maybe that’s what his reclusiveness was really all about: hurt.

  Howard entered the woods of his land and stepped around the giant oak tree that marked its beginning. Fallen branches snapped underfoot as he walked, making sounds that seemed to echo off the surrounding trees. The smell in the air was crisp and piney, almost intoxicating. This was the best part of his wealth – owning his very own slice of nature. A piece of land that was only his and the animals that lived on it. No one else’s. Howard had taken to spending every morning walking through the woods, seeking out the many birds, deer, and rabbits that adorned the landscape. Then, in the afternoon, he would work on his new novel: The Manson Files.

  Howard had written his debut novel, Manson P.I., after his gi
rlfriend, Grace, had left him. It was the only way he found that he could occupy his grieving mind. He had loved her dearly since the day they had met in high school. In fact, in Howard’s entire life, he had never loved anything else. She had been the greatest comfort in his life; beautiful, sweet, and endlessly caring. Grace had been his best friend, his partner, his family, his everything. Then she left.

  To this day, Howard never knew fully why the love of his life had left him so suddenly. It certainly wasn’t due to mistreatment. He had never hit her or cheated her in the eight years he’d known her, or the three years they had been a couple. Howard had treated Grace as well as any man could. Yet she had left without explanation. The only clue to gain anything by was that she had visited a doctor in the same week.

  Howard knew that Grace had a history of mental illness on her mother’s side and her greatest fear was ‘going crazy’, but he had never seen any sign of that. In the weeks and days leading up to the breakup, Grace started to behave skittishly: locking herself away in the bathroom for hours on end, wearing strange clothes that seemed to cover every inch of her flesh, and even refusing to eat. Then she had gone to see a doctor. She left Howard two days later. He could only assume the two things were connected.

  A pair of rabbits ran across the clearing, several yards ahead. They dove into some nearby bushes when they noticed Howard’s presence. He watched the rabbits and allowed his mind to come back from maudlin thoughts of lost love. There was too much to enjoy here in his woods to let himself to ruminate on things past. Nature was free from caring, and when Howard was around it, he was carefree too.

  Another pair of rabbits appeared in front of him, only this time they did not bolt at his presence. Instead they sat and stared at Howard, examining him intently. Peculiar.

  “Hey, bunnies. What you up to?”

  The rabbits continued staring.

  Howard wrinkled his brow and took another step forward, expecting the small animals to run away. But they did not and instead took a step towards him.