The World's Last Breaths: Final Winter, Animal Kingdom, and The Peeling

by Iain Rob Wright

  Here goes.

  He opened the door.

  Inside, the lab was an unending blanket of darkness, except for a floating torchlight at the far end. Joe could not make out who was holding it.

  “Who is it?” Bill whispered.

  “I don’t know. I can’t see anything in here.”

  “Light the burners,” Bill suggested.

  “What do you mean?”

  Bill placed a hand on Joe’s shoulder to find him in the dark. “The Bunson Burners run on gas. We could still light them even with no electricity.”

  Joe thought about it. “Good idea. You got a lighter?”

  Bill didn’t say anything but in the dark Joe felt the other man hand him a small metallic object. A flip lighter. Joe sparked it up and the flame lit a narrow cone of light around him, enough to navigate his way carefully over to one of the lab benches.

  A few sweeps with the lighter and Joe managed to locate a row of gas taps. He released the valve on the first, waited for the hiss, lit it, and adjusted the flame to its highest. It took only a few seconds to light several more, but it still did not allow Joe to see who was flittering about at the other end of the lab. The light of the burners stretched only a few feet from the centre of the room.

  Nothing left to do but shout out. So that’s what Joe did. “Who’s there?”

  The torch beam spun erratically as the person realised they were not alone, the tunnel of light eventually finding its way into Joe’s face and blinding him. Bill came up beside him and stood shoulder to shoulder.

  “We said who’s there?” Bill’s voice was strong and forceful, much tougher than Joe’s. “Show yourself now, or else.”

  The torchlight bobbed about as the person approached them. Joe thought for a moment that it felt like being in a train’s headlights. His eyes were forced shut as the torch continued to shine in his face. His retinas ached.

  “How ya doing there, pals? Up to some late night dogging?”

  Joe frowned at the Scottish accent, knowing who it belonged to: Victor.

  “You really don’t know anything about gay people, do you?” Bill said.

  Victor laughed. “Less I know the better, pal.”

  “We’re not up to anything,” Joe stated. “We’re here to see what you’re up to.”

  “No problem,” said Victor. “Best you see for yourself.”

  The torchlight left Joe’s face and circled the room, illuminating the rows and rows of cages on each wall. The animals inside were no longer making a fuss. In fact a lot of the cages were now open.

  Joe’s eyes went wide. “Shit, you let them all out!”

  Victor laughed, the sound echoing through the unlit room. He stepped forward into the light of the Bunson Burners and Joe saw that he was drenched in blood from head to toe. His tattoos were merged with gore and a dead bird hung limply from his left hand. Martha glinted in his right.

  Victor’s laughing continued. He held the gutted animal up like a trophy. “Aye, I let them all out, I did, but only long enough to slit their throats.”

  Joe stared at the blood-soaked knife in Victor’s hand and had to swallow back a mouthful of vomit. “You’re insane.”

  “No, pal. Just practical. Now do me a favour and leave a man to his work. We can all use this meat if things get bad enough.”

  “Things are already that bad,” said Bill, grabbing Joe’s arm and pulling him backwards. “Come on, Joe.”

  Together, they backed away from Victor, not taking their eyes off of him – or his beloved Martha – until they reached the door. Joe’s back hit the wood and he flinched, spun around. He snatched at the door handle, missing several times, but finally getting a grip and flinging it open. He and Bill barrelled through into the corridor outside like Hell itself was behind them.

  “That guy is batshit crazy,” said Bill, huffing and puffing as the two of them hurried down the unlit hallway. “He even killed the birds, and they weren’t even dangerous. I think he enjoys it,”

  “I know,” Joe agreed. “We need to warn the others.”

  They reached the seminar room and Joe shoved open the door. Everyone inside woke with a start, shouting out garbled utterances as they were yanked away from their dreams. Joe closed the door and leant his back up against it. “Everyone wake up.”

  “We’re already awake! What’s going on? Are we under attack?” Joe recognised the startled voice as belonging to Grace.

  “Yes, would you care to explain?” said another voice that could only have been Randall’s.

  The room lit up. Joe saw that Bill had managed to rustle up some torches from the stockpile and was placing them around the room to light up as big an area as possible. Joe could now make out the concerned faces of the others in the room. Fortunately, Danny was still asleep.

  My son could sleep through the end of the world. Lucky for him, because that may just be what’s happening.

  “Victor’s gone mad!” Joe blurted it out, unsure of any other way to approach the subject.

  Randall stood up and moved to the centre of the room. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

  “He’s in the lab, right now” said Bill. “Hacking away at all the animals in their cages. They’re all dead.”

  “That’s good isn’t it?” Shirley asked. “They were a danger.”

  Mason was shaking his head, a hand against his brow. “No, no, no. We agreed that they were to be left alone.”

  “That’s beside the point,” said Joe. “What matters is that Victor is going around killing things like a twisted maniac.”

  “Of course he is,” said Randall. “That’s exactly what I advised him to do.”

  Both of Joe’s eyelids opened wide. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I said I told him to do it. The animals in those cages were dangerous. How could we rest with an enemy within our boundaries? Plus, the meat they provide may prove invaluable in the days ahead.”

  Mason sighed. “They were invaluable until Victor killed them all.”

  “I stand by what I said. We are in too much trouble to risk those things getting out. I voiced my concerns to Shirley and Victor, and Victor was happy to oblige. The man is doing us all a service.”

  “I agree,” said Shirley. “Those beasts would happily have done the same to us.”

  Joe shook his head. What could he say? There was a certain amount of logic to their argument and, if he was honest, it did feel safer knowing that the caged animals were no longer a concern. It didn’t make him feel any better about Victor, though. The image of the Scotsman dripping with blood and shrouded in shadow was permanently etched into his brain. Regardless of what anybody said, Victor was dangerous.

  Joe just didn’t know how dangerous yet.

  15

  The morning arrived in silence. No birds sang their morning tunes and no cars hummed along distant motorways.

  The world was still.

  Randall had been awake for five minutes, but had done nothing except observe the others sleeping. The incident during the night had riled everyone up, but they had eventually gotten back to sleep. Victor had not returned, most likely still gutting the animals in the lab, collecting their meat. Randall found out that Victor was a Scot’s Guard as a younger man and more than capable of doing the tasks that others were not. Whether the group agreed or not, Victor should be commended for his pragmatism, not derided.

  It had been enjoyable to watch Joe and Mason back down and accept that harsh methods were needed, not fluffy thinking. They needed to understand that normal rules no longer applied. Randall was going to teach them all that lesson one way or the other.

  The room began to glow as cold grey shafts of dawn-light crept in through the gaps in the window’s barricade. The others in the room began to stir. Randall noticed that there was one other person, besides Victor, who was missing. Grace wasn’t there.

  Where have you gotten to, my pretty? This is no time for a woman to be walking around unescorted.

  Randall p
ushed himself up off the floor. His joints cracked, his fifty-year-old body unhappy at spending the night on a thin pile of cushions. It wasn’t something he was sure he could ever get used to, but for now there was no other choice. He stretched out his arms, listened to his elbows click one last time, and ambled over to the seminar room’s exit. Thankfully no one woke and he was free to go about his business undisturbed. He intended to find Grace and see what the woman was doing, but first he had other things to attend to. Randall was satisfied that the corridor outside was empty of both people and, more importantly, animals, so he stepped outside.

  He approached the Head of Primates office across the hall and opened the door quietly. Once inside, he closed it just as carefully behind him. The key to the room’s filing cabinet was in his pocket and he plucked it out, using it on the lock a moment later. He took a packet of biscuits from the middle-shelf and popped one into his mouth.

  Breakfast.

  Once he’d finished several more biscuits, Randall placed the packet back inside the cupboard and grabbed the next item on the shelf – his Blackberry. He pressed the ‘ON’ button and waited for the phone to boot up. It took several minutes, but when it finally activated, something unexpected occurred.

  < ONE NEW MESSAGE >

  Randall thumbed at the keypad clumsily, failing several times to get the message up, but eventually succeeding. He could not believe what it said:

  RE: Emergency Communication

  This is a Government message to all cellular devices. Emergency Rescue Operations are on-going at the following locations: Aberdeen, Bristol, Barnham, Blackpool, Dudley, Leicester, Ipswich, Nottingham, Oxford, Preston, Salford, Torquay, Taunton, Warwick, Winchester, Yeovil. If you are able to, please head to these areas. Help will be forthcoming. Do not approach any animal.

  Randall stared at his phone for several minutes, re-reading the message over and over. Despite his misgivings, the Government was indeed addressing the situation and were possibly even gaining a foothold. Or are they? Randall considered that the message could have been sent automatically by a dusty computer in the Home Office, and that the areas mentioned were already overrun by animal attacks. The message did not guarantee that help was available. They were probably still safer staying put. Some of the locations were nearby – Leicester especially – and it was perhaps an option to try and reach them. He would have to think about things before making a decision.

  Randall switched off the Blackberry and placed it back inside the cabinet. He locked it up and pocketed the key. Then he left.

  Outside, in the hallway, he bumped unexpectedly into Victor. The man had cleaned himself up and was now wearing a baggy, brown jump suit that looked as though it belonged to the zoo’s maintenance staff.

  Randall raised an eyebrow. “New outfit?”

  “Aye, I found it in the warehouse. My other clothes were a wee bit…sticky.”

  “Indeed. What are you up to now?”

  “Just checking the building’s security, making sure none of the furry bastards can get in.”

  Randall patted the man on his shoulder and moved past. “Keep up the good work.”

  As he walked back down the corridor, Victor shouted after him. “And what exactly have you been up to, pal?”

  Randall stopped and turned around. He thought about the message on his phone before answering. “Me? Nothing, Victor. Nothing at all.”

  The less you know the better, my friend. Until I decide otherwise.

  Victor scrutinised Randall for a few minutes and eventually cracked a crooked-tooth smile. “Well, let me know if you need help with whatever it is that you’re not doing. I’m very good with secrets.”

  Victor sauntered off, leaving Randall alone to consider his comments.

  16

  Joe awoke to screaming. He knew it was Grace as soon as he saw she was missing from her bed.

  Danny woke up. “What’s happening, Dad?”

  “I don’t know. Stay here while I find out.”

  Danny looked worried, but nodded. Joe patted him on the shoulders, kissed his forehead. He then scrambled over to Bill. “Bill, watch Danny while I go find out what’s going on. I think it’s Grace.”

  “Of course, go!”

  Joe entered the corridor, wanting to rush but trying not to until he knew the situation better. Another scream sounded and he couldn’t help but pick up speed.

  The noise continued, coming from one of the offices on his right. Joe pinpointed it to a room marked JEFFREY CARLSON, HEAD VET. He opened the door and pushed himself inside. Grace stood in the middle of the room, shrieking, and clutching at her face. Joe examined the floor in front of her and saw the reason why.

  “What the hell?”

  She flinched at the sound of Joe’s voice and looked over at him. Her eyes were unnaturally wide. “What do I do?” she asked.

  Joe peered down at the creatures by her feet – massive, hairy spiders and armour-plated scorpions. The zoo’s entire creepy crawly menagerie was surrounding Grace in a tightening semi-circle of hissing, spitting menace.

  Joe stretched his arms out towards her. “Grace, very slowly…come here.”

  Grace shook her head. “I can’t. They’ll get me.”

  As if to agree with her, several tarantulas rose up on their hind legs and hissed. A cloud of bristly, brown hairs filled the air around them. Grace let out another scream.

  “You have to move now, Grace! They’re getting closer.”

  Grace stopped her screaming and attempted to get herself under control, almost hyperventilating in the process. Joe held his breath, waiting for her to do something. It was a relief when she finally managed to take a step backwards.

  “That’s it. Really slowly.”

  Grace took another step but one of the tarantulas scuttled around and blocked her path. It stood between her and Joe.

  How the hell did it know to do that? Spiders can’t behave like this, can they?

  “Stay still, Grace. I need to think a second.”

  The creatures moved closer. She shrieked again, but managed to get it under control before it took hold. Joe glanced around the room for something to help, but it was just an ordinary office and most the furniture had been taken out. There was nothing he could use.

  So he did the only thing he could think of.

  Joe lifted his size-eleven trainer and brought it down on top of the tarantula. It hissed and squirmed beneath his heel, but he kept the pressure on, feeling its spindly legs snapping with each twist of his ankle. He lifted his foot again and expected to see a sickly mush, but it was just the same spider – crumpled and broken, but the same.

  “Grace, come on!”

  Grace saw the opportunity and found enough courage to make a run for it. She took several lunging steps towards him and threw herself into his arms. For a few moments, Joe just held her, glad that she was safe. Then he realised they weren’t out of the woods yet. “We need to get out of here,” he said, grabbing Grace by the arm. She winced and Joe saw why. “Hey, what happened to your wrist?”

  Grace eyed the thick gash on the back of her forearm, then looked down at the army of approaching arachnids. “Now’s not the time.”

  Joe leapt to the door and held it open. Grace ran through it, followed by a scuttling army of thrashing scorpions and spiders.

  Joe slammed the door shut, catching an obsidian scorpion against the frame and crushing it to a viscous pulp. “Are you…okay?” he asked Grace between panting breaths.

  Grace nodded, but tears had released themselves and were gliding down her cheeks. “I’m fine.”

  “So, are you going to tell me what happened?”

  Grace stared at the floor. “I….I woke up and I was cold, so I was looking for some blankets. Those things just came out of nowhere. I still don’t know how they got inside.”

  “But how did you hurt your arm? It looks really bad.”

  Grace held up the puckered wound and examined it. Blood was still coursing from the cut, but h
ad started to slow down. “I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe one of those things got me.”

  Joe wasn’t buying it. Something about the way she wouldn’t look him in the eye told him that other things were going on. He shook his head. “They wouldn’t be able to do that type of damage. That’s a cut not a bite.”

  Grace’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know then. Does it matter?”

  “It does to me, but let’s just get it patched up for now.”

  Grace tensed up, the features of her face contorting under a sudden rigor.

  “You okay?”

  Grace stopped breathing, bent over and slumped against the wall. Her leg shot out to the side. Joe looked down and saw something moving.

  A bright yellow scorpion was deeply embedded in Grace’s calf by its stinger.

  She screamed.

  Joe reached down and grabbed the vile creature. The feel of its brittle exoskeleton was repulsive as he flung it against the wall. It shattered upon impact.

  But what damage has it done already?

  Joe turned to Grace.

  Just in time to catch her fall.

  17

  Joe rushed into the seminar room with an unconscious Grace in his arms. He prayed that it was shock and not some sort of toxin from the scorpion.

  Mason leapt up from behind one of the desks. “What’s happened?”

  Joe lay Grace down on top of the nearest table. “She got bitten by a scorpion.”

  Mason went pale, all colour flushing from his cheeks. “What did it look like?”

  “I don’t know. It was small and yellow.”

  Mason held his head in his hands before staring hard at Joe. “Leiurus quinquestriatus.”

  “In English?”

  “Deathstalker Scorpion, also known as the Israeli Desert Scorpion. Its venom is amongst the worst of all species.”

  “Why the hell would you have those things around?” asked Bill, rushing over to help.

  Mason shrugged. He looked so tired that even such a simple movement seemed like an ordeal. “They were kept in the World of Venom building. How they got over here, I don’t know.”