Carrion Safari

by Jonah Buck

  Denise mashed her brains together. Behind them, the creatures bounded forward. Some of them walked on two legs, others used all four limbs to go leaping forward. Flashing eyes and grotesque snouts and sharp, hungry teeth all aimed for Denise and Harrison. Even though they were both running at full speed, the things that had once been human were faster. They would catch up soon.

  Suddenly, Denise had an idea. “Make for the wall,” she said.

  “Which part?”

  “Any part.” Denise reached back and grabbed the length of rope she’d taken from their base when the crabs attacked. She thought they might need it when they moved through the caves, but she’d completely forgotten about the coil of tough fibers since then.

  They found themselves facing a length of the wall a few seconds later. Denise screeched to a stop. Her hands moving with terrible, frantic speed, she tied a knot with one end of her rope around the middle of her Nitro Express rifle. She pulled it tight and snug, and then she took the rope and started twirling it like a lasso.

  “What are you doing? They’re almost here.” Harrison watched the oncoming horde of things with wide, horrified eyes. His hands twitched at his sides, yearning to have his rifle back in their grip. With Denise’s rifle at the end of a rope, they were all but defenseless.

  “The spikes,” Denise said. She hurled the gun upward, trying to send it sailing over the top of the wall. It struck the crenelated peak and tumbled back downward, thudding into the dirt. She grabbed the rifle up and started twirling it again.

  “What spikes?”

  “The ones drilled through the wall every few feet to the other side so nothing can climb up.” She threw the rifle again, letting the momentum from the rope do most of the work for her. The rifle sailed up, up, and then it cleared the top of the wall.

  Denise pulled on the rope before the rifle could fall all the way to the ground on the other side. She reeled the rope in as quickly as she could. A few seconds later, the rifle caught on something, and she couldn’t pull it any higher.

  The outside of the wall was covered in downward facing spikes. By throwing the rifle over, she’d caused it to snag between two of them. She’d essentially created a sort of grappling hook. Now they had a rope leading up over the top of the wall. All they had to do was climb it.

  “You go first,” Denise said, pushing the rope toward Harrison.

  “No, you’re smaller.” There was no time to argue about it. The creatures were almost upon them. A slobbering, howling mob shot straight toward them, blood in their inhuman eyes. The moon sent their shadows loping across the sand in front of them, and their shadows had already reached the wall.

  Grabbing the rope, Denise hauled herself straight up. She planted her feet against the side of the wall and used it to help boost herself up. Going hand over hand, Denise pulled herself up as far as she could at a time. Slipping and falling to the ground would mean death. The hard, frazzled rope bit into her hands as she moved, but she kept going.

  Directly below her, Harrison took the rope in his hands. The snarls and grunts and howls were close now. Denise didn’t look down, but she could hear the pounding footfalls following them. It sounded like a constant, low rumble. There were hundreds of feet behind them, all pushing their owners as fast as they could to tear Denise and Harrison apart.

  Denise was perhaps twenty feet up the side of the wall when Harrison screamed. The sound punched into her ears and shot straight down to her soul. For a second, her grip faltered on the rope.

  Harrison kept screaming. Denise looked down and instantly regretted what she saw, knowing that it was something she would take a very long time to forget.

  They had Harrison. He was too low on the rope when they reached the wall, and they were able to jump up and grab him. Furious claws ripped and pulled at him. Teeth like something out of a medieval fairytale chomped down.

  Denise kept moving, reaching the top of the wall a few seconds later. Harrison had stopped screaming in just those few seconds. The screams had been replaced with wet ripping noises and chewing. The screams had been replaced with the sounds of limbs being torn free from their sockets. The screams had been replaced with the snap of bones as the marrow was sucked out.

  Even above those noises, more of the creatures shrieked for Denise’s blood. They gazed up at her like hounds eying a stray caught up on a fence, and they brayed for her death. A couple of the creatures pulled on the rope.

  For a second, Denise thought they were about to climb up after her, but apparently they didn’t possess their full human intellect, just animal cunning. They tugged on the rope, straining it. The rope went as taut as fishing line that had just snagged a killer whale. Denise could hear it creak a little under the strain. A couple of them bit the rope, but none of them shimmied up it. Several tried to climb the wall directly, but they always slid down, leaving furrows in the wood with their claws.

  She sat at the top of the wall for a moment, her presence taunting the creatures below. Oh God. Harrison.

  Had she been too slow climbing up? Could she have done something different to save him? Was there something she’d overlooked that might have led to a different outcome?

  She didn’t know. Everything happened so fast. Denise closed her eyes and tried to concentrate for a moment, but the growls and sounds of meat being peeled from bones below wouldn’t allow her to put her thoughts in order.

  If nothing else, she knew she needed to climb down the other side of the wall without falling and breaking her neck. She reeled in her rope and let the rifle fall to the ground on the other side with a thud. She swung her legs around.

  The wall was thirty feet high and sheer. She took the rope and tied it around one of the spikes where she’d anchored the rifle. Working her way down, she moved as best she could rappelling off the side of the wall.

  She dropped the last few feet. Denise could see through the narrow gaps between the logs. A swarm of hungry movement seethed behind the wall, scratching at the wood, still trying to get at her.

  Denise looked down at her Nitro Express rifle on the ground. The barrel was bent from supporting her and Harrison’s weight and then the tugging of the things on the other side of the wall. The metal now had a very slight curve to it, nothing dramatic, but enough to ruin the weapon. If anyone tried to fire it at this point, the elephant gun would probably explode and blow the face off anyone holding it.

  That was the end of it. Denise didn’t have any shelter. She didn’t have any defenses. She didn’t have any friends.

  The end would come swiftly now.

  TWENTY-ONE

  FROM THE GRAVE

  Denise picked herself up. She was in a bad spot. Everything hurt. Her body and emotions had both taken a pummeling in the last twenty-four hours. She had barely slept in that time, and her body could only run so far on adrenaline alone.

  She had to keep going, though. Her only other option was to sit out here in the open and die, and that she refused to do.

  What was nearby? Where could she find some sort of shelter?

  Razan’s abandoned camp was the closest, but it was through the jungle. Denise didn’t think she’d be able to make it through there again. The jungle offered some shelter, but it also provided dozens of ambush opportunities for other predators. Walking into that black thicket with only her revolver would be tantamount to suicide.

  Then she remembered. Razan’s gun. His supplies. They’d carried them out to the beach to mark where they’d buried him. A rifle would at least give her a chance to defend herself again, and she wouldn’t have to set foot in the jungle to get it.

  It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Denise started moving. She slunk across the sand to the ridge where the jungle itself began. She stayed far enough away that she wouldn’t be easy prey for something that wanted to lunge out at her, but she didn’t want to walk exposed along the beach either.

  Even though she knew it wouldn’t do her much good, Denise held her revolver in her hands. The standard bull
ets wouldn’t stop anything that wanted to eat her, but they would give the shooter something to think about if she ran into him. She wasn’t going to survive all this only to be gunned down while totally defenseless. If this night was her time to go, she’d do it fighting.

  Fierce howls and shrieks emanated from the jungle, but most of the action seemed to be deeper in the interior. There weren’t as many animals who lived right near where the environment transitioned. Off in the distance, she could hear the steady booming of something truly gigantic walking through the jungle, probably another Komodo dragon.

  Razan’s grave lay just ahead. Denise wouldn’t have been able to recognize one spot of trampled sand from another if not for the pack of supplies they’d laid down as a temporary marker. And there on top of the pack lay Razan’s modified Savage Model 99 rifle.

  Normally, the Savage was more of a military-style rifle, not designed to shoot oversized elephant gun bullets. It used a rotary magazine, almost like a giant revolver, but it could hold several bullets at the ready, which was an innovative design.

  At some point, Razan had swapped out a lot of the parts, though. Where before the rifle shot .303 rounds, Razan had taken a new barrel and magazine and repurposed them to shoot .450 rounds. The custom work made the rifle look like something stitched together by Dr. Frankenstein if he had become a gunsmith rather than a doctor, but Denise was plenty happy to find it regardless. Even if it wasn’t quite as fearsome as her Nitro Express, it could still lay waste to just about anything she pointed it at. She grabbed up the box of ammunition sticking out of Razan’s pack.

  “Denise?” a voice asked from behind her. She spun around and raised the rifle.

  “Hold on. It’s just us,” Silas said, raising his hands. Creighton stood next to him, holding a rifle of his own and giving her a grim stare. A few feet behind them, Jubal Hayes stood with his hands tied behind his back.

  “What are you up to?” Creighton asked.

  Silas waved his colleague away. “Are you alright? Is there anyone else with you?”

  “No. I’m alone.”

  “Why do you have Jubal with you? Why’s he tied up?”

  “We heard some shots and then we saw Gail’s body near the caves when we came to investigate. Then we found Jubal in the area. After what happened to Razan, we weren’t taking any chances.”

  “You? It was you?” Denise lunged forward and raised her rifle to club Jubal across the head. If he was the killer, if he was the one who killed Gail, she’d smash his head in like a melon if she had to. Creighton stepped forward and held her back.

  “Whoa. Wait. What the hell? I don’t know what’s going on either. I heard some shots too, and then the next thing you know, the Red Coats here were telling me to put my hands on my head and get down on my knees. What the hell is happening here?”

  No one bothered to answer Jubal. “Denise, what happened? Where is everyone else?” Silas asked.

  “They’re dead.”

  “How? Who?”

  “Harrison and Dr. Marlow were both attacked by creatures. That bastard shot Gail right in front of us.”

  “My God. I’m so sorry,” Silas said. He looked back at Jubal and then patted Denise on the shoulder.

  “Have you seen van Rensburg?” Creighton asked.

  “No, I haven’t seen him since Shinzo was killed.”

  “Assuming he’s still alive, that’s only five of us left.” Silas looked at Creighton, who grimaced.

  “Did you kill Gail?” Denise asked Jubal.

  “No. As a matter of fact, hell no. I was hunkered down in the base I originally set up the first night, then I hear shooting, and then these two ass-clowns show up.”

  “He was in the area,” Silas said. “After hearing what we heard, we didn’t want to just leave him where he was. We thought he might come after us next.”

  “Lies,” Jubal spat.

  “What are you doing out here?” Denise asked.

  “There was some sort of, I don’t know what to say, crab migration. It forced us out of the spot we were staying in,” Silas said.

  “The buggers swept across the beach in a big wave. We had to move inland to stay clear,” Creighton added.

  Denise nodded.

  “We decided to angle toward this end of the island as best we could because we knew a few people had set up their base camps in this direction, yourself included. We wanted to huddle up with any other survivors we could. Then we heard gunfire and met Mr. Hayes here.”

  “Why are you trusting her? She said everyone she worked with is dead. She came from that direction, too. She’s probably the killer. Tie her up, too. I didn’t do shit,” Jubal said.

  “Shut your trap.” Creighton waved his rifle in Jubal’s general direction.

  “Hobhouse is coming on the Shield of Mithridates,” Denise said. “We were hoping he would be able to pick us up before dawn.”

  “We saw the lights out on the water,” Silas said.

  “Where were you planning to go?”

  “Originally, we thought we might try to find your camp. We figured we’d be fairly safe with you and your friends. Numbers are good in a situation like this. However, given what you told us, we’ll probably try to find Balthazar aboard the Hookstadt now. It’s closer to us than your base at the moment anyway. I’d like it if you would come with us.”

  “I…yes…sure. Absolutely. I don’t know where else I would go either at this point, and I’d rather stick with you two. What are you going to do with him?” Denise thrust her rifle in Jubal’s direction.

  “He’s coming with us. If Balthazar is at the Hookstadt, it means Jubal was most likely the one behind the shootings.”

  “I will punch you in the dick if you keep accusing me of things I didn’t do,” Jubal protested. Neither Silas nor Creighton seemed particularly alarmed by this new threat.

  “But I mean, what are we going to do with him?”

  “Oh. I think I see now. We’ll keep him tied up, and I imagine Mr. Hobhouse will turn him over to the Dutch colonial authorities after this is all over.”

  Behind them, the booming noises were getting closer. One of the Komodo dragons was approaching. Denise could hear trees being bent and pushed aside. Some of the smaller ones snapped and crashed to the ground in a racket.

  “We should find Balthazar,” Silas said. The Hookstadt wasn’t far ahead. Denise could see its prow jutting onto the beach from here.

  “Yeah,” Denise agreed.

  “I want to check Razan’s pack first,” Creighton said. “There could be something useful in there. Maybe water. I could do with some water. It’s been a long night.” He got down on his knees and opened up the hefty pack, tossing its contents out onto the sand.

  The pack contained a lot of the same things Denise brought with her. Dry clothes, extra ammunition. Maps. A book for down time.

  Just below Creighton, the sand shifted slightly. Denise looked down, wondering what she had just seen. “Did you guys see—?”

  A pale, sand-covered hand shot out of the beach and latched onto Creighton’s leg. He yelped in surprise. It was Razan.

  What in the world? Was he still alive? No, he couldn’t be. Denise had seen his body. The human form wasn’t meant to survive that sort of trauma. Razan had been as dead as dead gets. Most of the top of his head had been missing. People didn’t just wake up from that.

  Then Denise realized what had happened. A worm, thick around as a sink pipe, chewed its way out of the pallid flesh on Razan’s arm. Dozens of smaller worms tumbled out as the giant worm burrowed back into Razan’s corpse.

  The worms were affected by the moonlight just like everything else on Malheur Island. If this really was caused by moon dust leaking into the earth and making its way into the ecosystem, of course the worms would be affected.

  They were busy tucking into Razan’s corpse when the full moon rose. Now they were wrapped up in his body, using their own contortions to act like puppeteers. By working together, they’d turned R
azan’s corpse into a flesh marionette.

  Creighton kicked at the arm with his free leg, but it was an awkward position. His boots only grazed off the knuckles. He shifted around, shifting into more of a push-up position to try to knock the corpse hand away.

  Instead, Razan’s other arm shot out of the sand and plunged straight into Creighton’s stomach. Creighton had just enough time to make a little sick noise in the back of his throat before the arm ripped back out, a knot of his intestines locked in its grip.

  Creighton tried to back away, but his guts were still caught in the corpse’s fist. He jerked backwards, but that only caused more of his insides to spool out of him like a magician’s never-ending handkerchief trick. Only in this case, the handkerchiefs were all red.

  Denise raised her Savage 99 and fired. The arm holding a clump of Creighton’s innards disintegrated like a long blade of grass before a lawn mower. Bone and pulped worms flew across the sand, taking shreds of Creighton’s intestines with them.

  Sitting on the sand, Creighton was breathing on short, sharp little gasps. He was going immediately into shock. Denise knew first aid. Maybe she could wipe the sand off Creighton’s guts and stuff them back inside, but she wasn’t sure he’d live long enough to be transferred to the Shield of Mithridates.

  More sand exploded outward, and what was left of Razan emerged from his shallow grave. No, Denise corrected herself. This wasn’t Razan. This wasn’t like one of those voodoo tales in the pulp magazines where someone came back from the dead as a zombie slave to some occult master. It was Razan, but every last scrap of him was dead. There was no more Razan left in there. This was just a collection of worms using his body as a mobile feeding ground.