Ashton Memorial

by Robert R. Best

  The frontmost corpse, a middle-aged woman with a ruffled blue hat bouncing on her torn bloodied head, came at Angie. She hissed and bit. Angie spun, taken by surprise and trying to get her rifle up in time. A “crack” sounded to Angie's right and the woman fell back, dart embedded in her left eye.

  “Thanks,” said Angie, glancing over at Park.

  “I could do this all day,” said Park. “Now get the fuck up there.”

  Angie nodded and slung the rifle over her shoulder. She took hold of the wet metal railing and pulled herself up. The railing was cold and slippery and she almost fell mid-climb. The dead body swung from the tree. The branch creaked in the rain. The corpses drew closer on all three sides of the porch. Park fired again. Another corpse dropped.

  Angie made it over the railing. She turned and held her hands out and down to Park. “Come on!”

  Park slung the rifle over his shoulder. “Don't insult me,” he said. “I think I can manage a couple of feet.”

  Angie stepped back and Park grabbed hold. He'd made it halfway when he suddenly stopped.

  “Shit!” he groaned. “Stupid fucking bad knee son of a bitch burn in hell!”

  Angie smirked. “Doin' okay?”

  Park held out a hand. “Think you could take a break from your fucking stand-up comedy and help?”

  “Of course sir,” said Angie, grabbing hold and pulling him up. “How rude of me. I should have offered to begin with.”

  “You're a fucking riot,” said Park, dropping onto the stoop.

  Angie smirked and turned to rush inside the office. Park followed. The kids were already inside, standing stock still and staring at something off to Angie's right. Angie followed their gaze.

  A deer stood inside the room. A large buck with ten-point antlers. It snorted angrily at them, running its hooves along the carpeted floor of the office.

  “Shit,” said Park. “And my ass without a hunting license.”

  “Everyone stand very still,” said Angie. The door to the outside was still open. The corpses were gathering around the stoop. A few attempted to crawl through the railing. The buck dragged its hooves on the carpet and snorted. Angie slowly unslung the rifle from her shoulder.

  She had it halfway up when the buck huffed, snorted and charged. Maylee and Dalton screamed, diving out of the way. The buck crashed into the far wall of the office, cracking the wood paneling and sending a bulletin board flying.

  Angie stumbled, turning with the rifle. She leveled it at the buck.

  “Wait!” said Park, holding up a hand. He was looking back and forth between the staggering buck and the corpses trying to navigate the stoop. One had nearly crawled through the railing. Another was slowly staggering up the stairs. “I have an idea!”

  The buck backed away from the wall, snorting and shaking its head. A trickle of blood ran from its nose.

  “Hey fuckface!” yelled Park, waving his arms and backing toward the open door. The corpses on the stoop saw him and groaned. They started to reach for him.

  “Look out!” yelled Angie.

  “I know what I'm doing!” yelled Park as the buck focused on him and charged. The corpses behind Park nearly had him. As the buck drew close, Park dove out of the way. The buck crashed through the open door and into the approaching corpses. It jumped over the railing, its hooves slamming into corpses' skulls. The corpses fell back moaning. Several fell down and were still.

  Park turned back to the door and shut it. “Shit!” he said, leaning against the door. “I can't believe half the shit we do ever works.”

  Outside, the corpses groaned and gargled in the rain. The buck could be heard also, snorting and huffing in the rain.

  Angie ran to the window and peered out. The buck was thrashing its antlers back and forth, trying to free itself from the group of corpses. Corpses staggered and fell around it, torn and ripped by the buck. The buck freed itself and turned back to the office. It snorted and stamped its feet.

  “Shit,” said Angie. “The crazy thing is going to ram us.”

  “Open the door,” said Park, cocking his rifle.

  “Don't be crazy!” said Angie.

  “That thing can easily clear the railing and break this door down! You wanna find new shelter?” He leveled the rifle at the door.

  “Damn crazy ass,” said Angie. She ran over to the door and opened it. The buck saw her and charged. It stomped furiously through the rain. The few corpses who were left upright moan and staggered around.

  “Get out of the way!” yelled Park.

  Angie ducked to one side just as the buck leapt. It was halfway over the railing when Park fired. The dart thudded into the buck's chest, throwing the buck off course. The startled buck's back legs caught on the railing and it slammed downward, onto the metal stoop. A loud “crack” rang out and the buck let out a sharp yelp.

  “Shit,” said Maylee from the other side of the room.

  Angie stepped over to Park to look outside. The buck flopped around on the stoop, its neck broken and the tranquilizers taking effect. It whined and snorted, blood spraying from its nose.

  Park brought the rifle back up and fired, into the buck's skull. The buck jerked and was still.

  “Okay,” said Park, panting. “Now shut the door.”

  Sixteen

  Angie walked as quickly as she dared across the wet pavement just outside the Communications Office. She held a tranquilizer rifle in front of her, angled down but ready to use at any moment. Park was a few feet behind her, pushing a wheelbarrow they'd found propped up against one side of the office. Staff Only was imprinted in faded white letters on the side of the wheelbarrow. It was empty.

  Angie looked side to side. The rain had let up considerably since the night before, and she could see much farther. No corpses or crazed animals were in sight. Rain pattered on the wheelbarrow as Park pushed it along. The wheel squeaked just loud enough to worry Angie. She worried something might hear. She gripped her rifle and kept walking, heading for a large shed hidden among some bushes across from the office.

  Angie fell back a few steps to let Park come up alongside her. She was going to speak when Park nodded at something to their left. Angie looked and saw a corpse, a small woman with most of the skin ripped from her face, stumble from the nearby trees. Rain pooled in the black and red mass of rips and scars where her face had been. The woman moaned and moved toward them.

  Angie leveled her rifle at the woman and fired. The dart thudded into the woman's head off-center, nearly taking off the woman's temple. The point evidently found brain, though, as the woman jerked, spit rain water from her dead mouth, and fell.

  “Not bad,” said Park.

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Angie. “It kind of sucked and you know it.”

  They both kept walking. Light rain fell and the wheel on the wheelbarrow squeaked. Angie wondered if the noise had attracted the corpse. She tried not to wonder about it too much.

  They were about halfway to the shed. She glanced over at Park.

  “Some people were here when Dalton and I got here. It looked like they'd managed to stay safe in there for days.”

  “On your right,” said Park, nodding in that direction.

  Angie looked and saw a tall man, wearing a white T-shirt stained with blood, staggering from behind a bush. A huge gaping wound in his torso showed white bone and gray organs. The organs jerked and shook as he walked. Angie sighed, cocked her rifle, and fired. The dart nearly missed, thudding into the man's head just to the side of his eye. The point of the dart jutted out from the man's temple. The man kept coming, oblivious to the injury.

  “Dammit to hell,” said Angie, cocking and firing again. This time the dart thudded into the man's forehead, much closer to center. The man staggered backward, groaning and blinking. Then he toppled to the pavement, still.

  “Damn right,” she said, mostly to herself. She glanced at Park to see him smirking. She considered telling him to fuck himself. She stayed quiet.

  They walked
for a few more seconds. The rain fell and the wheel squeaked. Angie was now certain the noise was bringing corpses. She braced herself, ready for the next moan. Or the growl of a crazed animal.

  Nothing came.

  They drew to a halt just in front of the shed. Staff Only, said chipped white paint emblazoned across the front.

  “Uh-oh,” said Park. “Staff only. Guess we'll have to go back.”

  Angie smirked but stayed quiet. She fished around in her pocket and located the keys they'd found in a desk in the office. She stepped up and found a padlock on the door of the shed. She tried the keys and was relieved when one slid in easily. She turned it and the lock opened. She pulled open the shed door and stepped back.

  The shed was full of tools. Shovels, hammers, wrenches. There were even a few pickaxes. All neatly organized and stacked.

  Park sighed. “Think that'll do?”

  “It'll have to,” said Angie. “We've just got the three rifles, so we'll need all the weapons we can get.”

  They loaded the wheelbarrow with tools as quietly as they could. Rain fell around them. Angie was careful to make little noise as she loaded the heavier tools.

  When the wheelbarrow was full, Angie shut the shed and looked around. Rain pattered on the trees around them and on the tools in the wheelbarrow. No other sound could be heard. No moans. No growls.

  “Okay,” said Angie. “Let's go.”

  After one more quick glance around, they started back toward the office. The weight in the wheelbarrow made the squeaking of the wheel louder than before.

  “Anyway,” said Angie. “This place is pretty out of the way. Someone...”

  A loud moan came from behind her. She spun in time to see an old man with ruptured eyes and rotten yellow teeth reaching for her. He was closer than the others had been. There was no time to ready the rifle.

  Angie jumped back as the man lunged for her. He missed, moaning and stumbling forward. Angie shoved the man back, struggling with the rifle. The man corrected himself and came back at her.

  “Here!” said Park, grabbing a wrench from the wheelbarrow and tossing it at her. Angie caught the wrench and slung the rifle over her shoulder.

  The corpse came at her, moaning and working his rotten teeth. Angie slammed the wrench across the man's temple. The man's head whipped to one side and he staggered to the left. Thick black ooze seeped from a crack Angie's blow had made.

  The corpse was righting himself when Park came up behind him with a hammer. Park slammed down on the corpse's head. The skull splintered and caved, sending black pulp upward across Park's sleeve. The top of the hammer buried itself into the man's head. The man jerked, then slumped.

  He didn't fall, though. He hung there, his head still stuck to Park's hammer.

  “Oh dammit to fuck,” said Park, shaking the hammer. The corpse hung there, jerking as Park shook his arm, but otherwise still. The hammer didn't come free.

  Angie chuckled and stepped over.

  “The fuck you laughin' at?” said Park, still shaking the hammer.

  “Oh I think you know,” said Angie. “Hold still.” She brought up the wrench and slammed downward onto the man's skull, to the side of Park's hammer. The blow knocked the corpse free, and it fell to the ground.

  “Thanks,” said Park, grimacing at the black all over his arm and hammer. He whipped the hammer clean as best he could. He dropped it back in the wheelbarrow and Angie tossed the wrench in after it.

  They both looked around in silence. No other threats were seen. Park took hold of the wheelbarrow and Angie unslung the rifle from her shoulder. They continued, Park pushing the wheelbarrow and Angie holding her rifle ready.

  “So anyway,” said Angie after a few moments of silent walking. “Like I was saying. If someone kept quiet, if they didn't call attention to themselves, I bet they could stay holed up in that office for quite a while and be pretty safe.”

  Park said nothing. They walked along in silence. The wheel squeaked and rain fell. They reached the office without further incident. Park left the wheelbarrow by the stoop. Angie walked up the steps, doing her best to ignore the hanging corpse and the horrible wet rotting smell it gave off. She stepped over the dead deer still covering most of the stoop. She put her hand on the handle and watched Park coming up the stairs after her.

  “They'll be fine, you know,” he said.

  “Hmm?”

  “I've been listening to all the crap you're saying. How safe the place is, how long someone could hide here. You're right and they'll be fine.”

  “I know,” said Angie, her hand still on the handle. “At least I hope I know. I'm just trying to make myself feel better.”

  Angie stepped farther inside the office as Park shut the door behind her. Maylee and Dalton were sitting at the bank of monitors and switches. A box of crackers was open in Maylee's lap. She sat watching the monitors, slowly raising a cracker to her mouth and chewing. The crackers were a big find the night before. One of the zookeepers’ lockers had thankfully been left open. And inside, among various articles of clothing and a few books, was a half-eaten box of stale crackers. That and a working water fountain in the breakroom had provided a very meager dinner.

  Dalton was chewing a cracker in his hand and staring at the screens. He saw Mom and swallowed.

  He snatched the box from Maylee. Maylee made no protest, sitting back farther in her chair and chewing slowly.

  “Mom!” said Dalton, standing and walking over with the box. “Have some more.”

  “No,” said Angie, shaking her head. “Park and I have already eaten. You guys need to have most of it.”

  “Why?” said Maylee from her seat.

  Angie sighed. “Because you guys are hiding in here while Park and I go to get Lori.”

  “What?” said Maylee, sitting up straight.

  “Don't start,” said Angie. Dalton shrugged and started pacing the room, carrying the box and watching all the screens.

  “But I want to help,” said Maylee.

  “I said don't start.”

  Maylee stood and walked over.

  “I can't believe this,” said Maylee. She spoke quietly, calmly. Angie noticed this. Just a few weeks ago, Maylee would have screamed and stomped around. “I can't believe you still don't trust me.”

  Angie glanced over at Dalton. He was oblivious to them, investigating some maps of the zoo that were plastered onto a far wall. Angie turned back to Maylee. “I am trusting you, Maylee. I'm leaving you in charge here. Dalton's still limping. He needs to rest. I'm trusting you to keep him safe.”

  Maylee fell quiet, looking at Dalton. She looked back to Angie. Angie could tell she was conflicted. She bit her lip, then nodded. “Okay.”

  “Thank you,” said Angie, and meant it. She unslung the rifle from her shoulder and handed it to Maylee. Maylee took it, frowning. “Take this,” said Angie. “Darts are in the desk over there.”

  Angie walked to the gun case to get the last remaining rifle. She saw Maylee frowning at the rifle and looking at her bat propped up against her chair.

  Angie took the rifle from the case and slung it over her shoulder. “Not everything can be knocked on the head, Maylee.”

  “A lot of things can be knocked on the head.”

  “Still, try to keep things far enough away that you don't need to.”

  Maylee nodded. She walked back to the chair and sat, placing the rifle upright on the floor in front of her. Angie wanted to change her mind. To hide with her children there in the office and make the best life they could. But she knew it was untenable. She knew eventually they would have to deal with the corpses, the animals and the crazy man who had made the zoo his own kingdom. They would have to deal with Gregory. And she'd rather have the kids safe here than in the middle of that.

  Angie turned and looked around. She found another of the hand-held communicators sitting in a chair across the room. She walked over and picked it up. She took the one she'd been using from her pocket and read the number on
the back. Dropping hers back into her pocket, she adjusted various dials on the one she'd just found.

  “You're becoming a real whiz with those things, Mom,” said Maylee.

  Angie smirked as she adjusted settings. “Well, we had lots of free time last night.”

  Satisfied she had it working, she walked back to Maylee and handed her the communicator. She took hers from her pocket. “Try it.”

  Maylee frowned at the communicator. She clicked the large button on the side and held it to her mouth. “Hello?”

  Her voice came from the communicator in Angie's hand. But not from the speakers set all over the room and zoo.

  “There you go,” said Angie, smiling and putting the communicator back in her pocket. “This way you can talk directly to me. I can tune mine to talk back to you if you need anything.”

  Maylee nodded. She shifted in her chair to hike up one hip. She slid the communicator into her pocket and sat back. “Got it.”

  Angie nodded and looked at Dalton. He was staring intently at one of the maps on the wall. She looked over at Park, who shrugged back at her.

  “So what's the plan?” he said.

  “Well,” said Angie. “Here's what I've been thinking. There are lots of people scattered all over this zoo. They hate being trapped here. They hate Gregory. They hate the crazy zookeepers.”

  “We ran into a few of them,” said Park, looking over at Maylee. Angie followed his eyes and saw Maylee nod. Park nodded back and continued. “They seem a little on the bat-shit side.”

  “They're desperate,” said Angie. “They feel helpless. We'll give them weapons so they can defend themselves against the corpses. And the animals. And the zookeepers. We'll round up as many as we can, we'll get food for them, we'll find Lori, and then...”

  “Mom,” said Dalton from across the room. He was leaning forward on his tiptoes, staring intently at a large map on the far wall. “Come here a sec.”

  Angie stepped over and looked. Park and Maylee followed. The map was far more detailed than the ones for the general public. It detailed staff-only buildings, security routes and shortcuts for employees to take.