ZooFall

by Lawrence Ambrose

  "Not that I'm aware of," said Dan. "They couldn't be sure we'd even be back this afternoon."

  They pedaled slowly down the gravel driveway – slowly, because that was all Myth could manage. Diana kept waiting for her to drop off her bike, but when a foot slipped off a pedal or the bike flopped sideways, Myth bit her lower lip and straightened up an instant before falling. Why had she decided to take a "genetic sample" when they were so far from home? Diana wondered. But then she had little clue what Myth thought about. They hadn't had what she'd call a real conversation yet. Myth tended to lapse into sentence fragments and monosyllables after a few exchanges. Diana wasn't sure if it was a lack of vocabulary or comprehension or interest. Not that she'd ever been all that chatty herself, but it was frustrating when the person you were talking to just might hold the keys to understanding everything about their new world and how it came to be.

  Approaching the house, the mystery deepened. The big barbecue pit was smoking, but nothing appeared to be cooking. Instead, what appeared to be a pile of tree limbs was stacked over a tepid fire. Oddly, a strong odor of cooking meat emanated from the pit.

  When they got closer, they saw why: the "tree limbs" were actually hairy animal arms and legs. Even a few charred heads lay in the pit. Diana covered her mouth and nose against the acrid, fleshy stench.

  "It's those apes!" Penny whispered. "I know their smell!"

  "Nazrene," Myth confirmed.

  "They cooked them?" Diana choked out. "Why would Sonja do that?"

  "Not Sonja. The Nazrene eat own dead." Myth spoke with her usual matter-of-factness. "To show respect."

  What had seemed merely a curious mystery to Diana now felt like a mouthful of burning embers. This could only mean something bad. Something terribly, terribly bad.

  "They've been here," said Dan, his face twisted in acknowledgement of the terrible logic of what that meant. He unslung his rifle and racked a round into its chamber. Diana and Myth did the same. He lowered his voice. "They might still be here. No more talking."

  They crept up the front porch steps, Dan in the lead. The steps creaked like thunder as they approached the door. Dan inched it open, the muzzle of his .308 tracking the living room and kitchen. They edged inside.

  There was a strange sound: deep, ragged, resonant – an idling chainsaw. It took Diana a second or two to identify it as snoring. She and Dan traded a grim look.

  Myth staggered up beside them, her rifle waving to and fro. Diana thought she was having some kind of seizure. Dan guided her into the nearest chair, relieving her of her weapon. Myth sat there quivering and shaking, her eyes wide and blinking like butterfly's wings. She started to moan and Dan slapped a hand over her mouth.

  The snoring stopped. Everyone froze in their tracks. They were a few feet from the entranceway to the family room. All they could see was some furniture and a small pile of what looked like soiled torn-up sheets on the floor. Dan motioned for Diana to move further out to one side for a clearer range of fire. They edged forward.

  A long, hairy arm shot out from one side of the entranceway, and a large, clawed hand snared the barrel of Dan's rifle, yanking it out of his hands with a force that nearly dislocated his shoulders. When he stumbled forward, the clawed hand returned, gripping his jacket, jerking him into the room. Dan got his left arm up in time to partly block a descending blow. Bones in his forearm snapped. A blast of pain blurred his vision. Another jerk from the hand clamped on his jacket and he was flying across the room.

  Diana jumped to her right and opened fire, smacking chunks of wood from the door jamb as a towering hirsute figure retreated from view. The room descended into predictable numb silence from the explosions. Dan was shouting, his voice coming from a great distance.

  "Get back, Diana!"

  Gunfire came from the family room. A Nazrene fell forward across the entranceway, clutching its head. Dan must've got out his pistol. Diana shuffled cautiously to her left until the room came into view. Dan was on his back across the room, pistol pointed in her direction, his face constricted in agony. His eyes darted sideways. Another Nazrene charged in from the side – hobbled in, Diana noticed, as if it was injured – one over-long arm snaking out to slap Dan's pistol out of his hand. Then it was on him, a balled fist raised.

  Diana stepped into the room, rifle at her shoulder, but as she squeezed the trigger the barrel was dragged down by a large hand shooting up from the wounded Nazrene at her feet. Two rounds blew holes in the hardwood floor a few steps from where Dan lay. The rifle was torn from her grasp. The Nazrene on top of Dan twisted toward her. Diana reached for the handgun in her belt holster. The Nazrene lying below her grabbed her wrist, its clawed fingers closing like a vise with teeth. She dropped her pistol, but slid out her combat knife with her free left hand and plunged it into the hairy forearm restraining her. The clawed fingers loosened and she squirmed free. The Nazrene on top of Dan rose and shuffled toward her.

  Penny squeezed by in a blur firing her pistol as she went. The Nazrene clutched its chest and then its head, staggering, and Penny kept firing as it fell, worrying Diana that some rounds might strike Dan.

  "Penny!" Diana's shout sounded like a ragged whisper to her pounding eardrums. "Enough!"

  The simian flopped face-first on the floor, blood pooling around its body. Penny pointed behind her. Diana turned in time to see the Nazrene that had been lying wounded in the living room entryway limping out through the front door. Man, these things were hard to keep down.

  "Stay here," she said to Penny before meeting Dan's glazed eyes. "I'll be back."

  "Careful," he wheezed.

  Diana gathered her rifle and followed the baboon-creature outside, praying there weren't more lurking about. She found the Nazrene was on its knees before the barbecue pit in the side yard, head bowed, its back facing her. Diana stopped a few yards away, centering her AR sights on the base of its neck. With the threat of imminent death gone, the one question she'd been afraid to face surfaced with a vengeance.

  "Why?" she asked. "Why are you so determined to harass us, knowing the cost?"

  The creature, which had given no indication of knowing she was there to that point, lifted its head a few inches. In a blur it snatched up the barbecue fork lying across the rock wall and plunged it into its chest with both hands. The muscles in its shoulders bunched. With a hoarse scream, it drove the fork in to its handle. Blood burbled out and hissed on the burning wood.

  The Nazrene collapsed forward into the embers. Its body twitched twice and was still. As acid burned up Diana's throat, she couldn't help thinking: Stick a fork in me. I'm done. She turned back to the house.

  In the family room, Dan had managed to wrestle himself up into the nearest chair.

  "I didn't hear a shot," he said.

  "No. He took care of that himself." Diana tamped down another surge of stomach acid. "Stuck a barbecue fork in his chest."

  "Ouch." Dan winced. "Those damn apes. What the hell is wrong with them?"

  They stared at each other, the words that were not being said, that neither wanted to say, roiling in the air between them. Dan released a harsh, rasping sigh.

  "My family's gone," he said. "I think they took them."

  "I think so, too."

  "But we need to make sure. We need to check the other buildings, the area around the farm."

  "I can do that," said Penny.

  "Okay," said Diana. "Be careful out there."

  "Sure, Diana." She sprinted off.

  Aches and pains invaded her tired body along with a dark anxiety as the adrenaline wore off. Seeing Dan's left arm didn't do much to counter the feeling. It looked like it had been stuck in a hamburger grinder.

  "Aside from your arm, any other injuries?" she asked him.

  "Got a few dings, can't deny that." Grim determination showed through the pain in his face. "A broken left arm. Compound fracture, I'd say. Some broken or cracked ribs. My right knee..." He grimaced as he tried to sit up straighter. "I don't think it'
s busted – maybe just badly sprained – but I can't move it much. I'm going to need a little help, Diana. My wife's medical bag should have most of what we need. It's in the first bedroom."

  "I'll get it." Diana swallowed down a large gulp of anxiety. Compound fracture. That would be a tough go even for a skilled orthopedic surgeon.

  She returned a minute later and broke open the bag. If there was anything in there to construct a cast, she didn't see it. Plenty of antibiotics, injectable and oral. And a scissors. She'd need to cut the sleeve away and see what they were up against.

  "I don't suppose you had any medical training in the CIA." Dan was eyeing her with a pained smile.

  "A little. I actually received some basic EMT training."

  "Then this should be a snap."

  "Right. Piece of cake."

  Bracing herself, Diana cut through the sleeve up to Dan's shoulder and then cut it free. She studied the shank of bone protruding from a bloody red hole in Dan's upper forearm. A wave of dizziness rolled over her.

  "Breathe," said Dan, with a dark chuckle. "It's not as bad as it looks."

  "Oh, really?"

  "Well, maybe it is. About now might be a good time to give me a shot of morphine and antibiotics, don't you think?"

  "Good point."

  Diana located autoinjectors of morphine and Cefotaxime. She injected a single dose of each into his left shoulder. After a few minutes, Dan released what sounded to Diana like a relieved sigh.

  "That's better." He stared at her with slightly glazed eyes, his voice eerily calm. "Any ideas about how to set a bone without an X-ray?"

  "I was thinking Ouija board." Diana's smile was crippled by another wave of dizziness, this time lightly seasoned with nausea. "Seriously, I watched a paramedic do it once in the field. The idea is to stretch the arm to allow the bones to slip naturally back in place, with some help from my or your hands. You'll know better than I will when it feels in place. And then..." She breathed in and out a few times, willing herself not to vomit. "Splint you up somehow. Maybe with wood and some kind of tape."

  "Duct tape?"

  "Perfect." She tried to match his jaunty smile.

  "There are some stakes and duct tape in the garage."

  "Okay." Diana was nodding, but the room seemed short of oxygen. "I'm going to grip your wrist. And I'm going to pull back gently, stretching the arm. As I do, I want you to help ease the broken bone back under the skin. Can you do that?"

  "As you said, piece of cake."

  Penny showed up, confirming that Donny, Laurie, and their mom were gone. Dan soaked up the news with a dire expression and a fresh flare of determination in his eyes.

  "Could be worse," he said. "For some reason, they wanted them alive. That gives us a chance."

  Diana doubted he'd be in any shape to make good on that "chance" for the near-future, but kept that thought to herself. Penny made herself useful by cutting four thin but reasonably strong braces from the stakes in the garage and also helped with the taping. Diana half-wished they'd mixed a bit of Adderall. Sure would be nice to be supercharged about now.

  Thirty minutes later, her blouse drenched in sweat, Diana put the finishing touches on Dan's makeshift cast: smoothing down the last length of duct tape after cleaning the wound, squeezing the flesh together with surgical glue, and applying a heavy bandage. She also taped up his knee, which was somewhat swollen and bruised – she guessed from when he'd been thrown across the room or when the Nazrene had jumped on him. She sat back and attempted to admire her handiwork.

  "How do you feel?" she asked him.

  "Right as rain." His smile turned apologetic at Diana's wince over the reference to Ruth and Roy Johnson. "Sorry. Not feeling much pain at the moment. I'm sure that will change."

  "You'll survive that. I'm more worried about infection, but a round of antibiotics should keep that at bay."

  Dan held up his duct-taped-splinted arm for inspection. "Not bad. You might consider a second career as an orthopedist if our world ever comes back in line."

  "Or maybe furnace duct repair."

  Penny giggled. Dan laughed softly with her for a moment or two before his jaw clamped shut and all humor drained from his face. He sat up with a pained grunt.

  "I wonder if there's any amphetamine in her bag," he said. "Something to knock back the morphine a bit so I can travel."

  "We both know you're not going anywhere today, Dan," said Diana.

  "We both know the longer we sit here the colder the trail will be, and the longer they're with those monkey bastards the worse the odds for my family."

  "Doesn't change the fact that you're not fit for travel."

  "Not your call. If they were your family you sure as hell wouldn't be content to sit here on your ass while they're being dragged off to God knows where."

  Dan started to rise out of his chair. Diana placed a hand on his chest.

  "All you're going to accomplish is get yourself killed, and that won't help them." She drew in an unsteady breath, hating what she was about to suggest but seeing no choice. "I'll go after them myself."

  "With me," said Penny. "I can smell them! I can help you find them!"

  Diana glanced at her young protégé and received a dubious frown from Dan.

  "That could work," she said. "Look, I know how much you want to go after them, Dan. But this is a time to be coolheaded, to think rationally. Even if by some miracle you got on your feet, your injured knee and overall weakness would just slow us down. We need to go after them full-speed."

  Diana saw the force of those words register in his eyes. They stared at each other for a few moments before he gave her a grudging nod.

  "Then you better get to it."

  Diana stood up. "You'll be okay here alone?"

  "I'm not alone. Myth will be waking up in a day or so – theoretically in a stronger and tougher incarnation."

  Diana did not find her image of the alien waking up hungry and full of Adderall-psycho-Roy genes reassuring.

  "I'll be fine," said Dan, "But I'm not clear on your plan."

  "I'm not, either." Diana doubted she could find enough negative words to describe how little she was looking forward to a rematch with the Nazrene. "My only plan is to catch up with them and see what they're doing, what condition your family's in." Assuming they're still alive and with them, she added silently. "If we're lucky, maybe they'll settle down somewhere not too far away."

  "You won't try to rescue them, right? You don't have the numbers."

  "I'll try to resist the temptation to go all Sigourney Weaver on their asses."

  He gave her an uncertain smile and nodded. "Good. Just a reconnaissance mission for now. In a day or two, Myth and I should be ready for action."

  Dan slumped back in his chair, his eyes suddenly heavy-lidded.

  "We're going to pack a couple things and then go," said Diana. "I plan to check back with you in a day or two."

  "Good luck. And thank you, Diana. You, too, Penny."

  "Sure, Mr. Jensen." The girl beamed.

  He was drifting into sleep by the time Diana had scooped up her rifle and crossed the room. She had a feeling he wouldn't be conscious much over the next twenty-four hours. For his sake, she hoped no unfriendly creatures would show up in the meantime.

  Entering the family room by the kitchen, Diana found Myth still in the chair, but her skin had assumed the brown color of the leatherette surface so thoroughly that Diana had trouble distinguishing her from the upholstery. Not only in terms of color, but also her skin texture, which now matched the leather's smooth gloss. Her clothing appeared to be resting in the chair attached to nothing. Crazy, Diana thought. But it made sense. While she was "metamorphosing" in such a vulnerable state what better protection could she have than blending with the background, much as a pupa would?

  "It's like she's camouflaged herself," Penny noted in a wondering voice.

  "I'd say it's exactly like that."

  They both strapped on the gun belts that hel
d combat knives, extra clips, and the pistols themselves – Diana with her Glock 20 SF, Penny sporting a Glock 34 9mm. Penny had shown some decent skill for a beginner with her Colt AR-15 – the same gun favored by Laurie. Diana didn't doubt Penny could kill things with it, but was still worried that her exuberance might overpower her good sense in a firefight.

  Diana retrieved her backpack from the front porch which carried spare ammo, an additional Glock pistol, and an abundance of protein bars, beef/elk jerky, and some iodine and chlorine water purification tablets. A bit on the heavy side, but she thought it better to have too many supplies than too few. They refilled their canteens, and it was time to go.

  "They went that way," Penny announced, pointing to the southeast.

  They started off at a slow jog. It didn't take more than a few hundred yards before Diana realized how leg and road-weary she was, while Penny was practically jumping out of her athletic shoes to increase the pace.

  "You can run ahead a ways if you want," said Diana. "Just don't go too far. I'm going to continue as straight as I can in the direction we're headed. If you can't find me, fire a round and I'll fire back."

  "Okay. I won't go too far."

  "And if you encounter the Nazrene, come back. Don't take them on by yourself."

  "All right, Diana."

  Diana felt even wearier watching the girl explode ahead like a greyhound that had been just released from its leash. For Penny, with all her inexhaustible energy and lack of attachment to the past, this was a Girl Scout weekend trip adventure. Diana thought she might either work herself into condition and toughen up or burn out and start accumulating ailments. She'd been running on adrenaline since waking up in the hospital, and she knew from experience in the field that only took you so far. It was hard to focus on the small practical details when your life hung perpetually in the balance. But sometimes that was what you had to do.

  A shadow passing overhead made Diana look up. Zurzay! The familiar giant-winged wolf was descending on her swiftly from perhaps a quarter-mile up. She slowed to a stop, grateful for the chance to reconnect with her new friend and the opportunity to take a breather.