ZooFall

by Lawrence Ambrose

  Diana turned to her winged friend. Zurzay appeared to have eyes-only for the apparition on the building's dome roof. She couldn't read his expression as she could read a person's, but the intensity of his stare was so palpable that she thought she could hang on the line of sight between them. Diana's impression, despite lacking the necessary vision to be sure, was that the winged-creature on the roof was returning his stare.

  "If you want to go to her – if she is a her – I won't hold that against you," said Diana quietly.

  Zurzay glanced at her as though she were an unwelcome distraction, keeping one eye on his new obsession.

  "It's okay," she said.

  Zurzay ruffled his wings as if to take her up on her offer, but at that point another winged-animal not of the lupine variety drifted in overhead. Zurzay emitted a hissing growl that sounded to Diana like a snake harmonizing with a big cat when the dragon settled down twenty meters away. Diana touched her companion's velvet-furred chest as his claws extruded.

  "Take it easy," she said. "If it wanted to attack, it would not have landed there."

  The dragon rested back on its haunches, its purple eyes resting balefully on Zurzay for a moment before passing over the rest of them.

  "Hey," Laurie called to it softly. "You look like you recovered."

  The dragon's gaze settled on her. Laurie started toward it.

  "Go easy," Diana counseled.

  Laurie slowed a little but continued her advance on the horned beast, which regarded her with cool purple eyes, making no motion to either welcome or discourage her. Its motionless regard continued as Laurie reached out and placed one hand on the top of its unarmored neck.

  Zurzay turned away with what Diana thought was disdain or feigned indifference, resuming his contemplation of the winged figure on the alien building's roof with renewed intensity. Watching him, a dark vision came to Diana: What would her world be like without Zurzay watching over her? A silly thought, she knew. But it was more than that. In some ways, perhaps most ways, her winged-wolf was her most trusted companion. She'd miss him dearly. But such was life. Diana frowned. And death.

  A cluster of creatures – the upright-walking ones who looked like a mixture of human and simian traits – were moving away from the alien craft/building and headed in their direction. At first, Diana wasn't sure where they were going, but when they crossed the halfway point between the building and the hill, angling straight for them, she suspected they were about to have company.

  "Those things are coming toward us," said Gary. Zurzay growled a confirmation, his gaze shifting from his possible soulmate to the approaching vanguard.

  "You should come over here, Laurie," Diana called. "It looks like we're about have visitors."

  The girl cut short her "mind-meld" with the dragon and crossed back to where she and Gary were peering down from a clump of rocks on the group which had reached the base of their hill perhaps two hundred meters below.

  The body language of the nine creatures struck Diana as more that of emissaries than a hostile force – and more Planet of the Apes in appearance than the coarser-featured Nazrene, but clearly not human. They moved deliberately, with long, elegant, human-like strides. They were carrying spears and various implements, perhaps including knives, on their waists, and were wearing outfits that reminded Diana of ceremonial clothing she'd seen in Africa or parts of the Middle East: a shiny, satiny, form-fitting mélange of red, blue, orange, and brown cloth or cloths that left most of their fur-covered arms and legs exposed.

  "They don't look unfriendly," Laurie observed.

  "No," said Diana. "And not exactly friendly, either."

  Zurzay seemed to disagree, a rumble deep in his chest building to the sound of rocks smacking each other in an avalanche.

  "Do you know these things?" she asked him.

  The wolf jabbed a claw-extruded finger at them and made a slashing gesture with one hand.

  "That doesn't look good," said Diana. She rose to her feet, rifle coming up in her hands. Their visitors were now closing within fifty yards of them. "That's as close as I'm letting them get, for now."

  "Okay," said Laurie.

  "You got it," said Gary.

  Diana raised her hand in what she hoped was a universal sign of halt. The creatures slowed their long strides a little but kept coming. Diana made a more emphatic backing-off gesture and swung her rifle around so that it was pointed at their feet.

  "Stop where you are!" she called to them, pushing the palm of her hand at them again. When they slowed more but kept coming, she raised her rifle so its sights were level with their chests. Laurie joined her in aiming at them. Gary raised his spear.

  That got their attention. They returned the compliment by stopping and raising their own spears, which Diana noticed had sharpened black stone – obsidian? – rather than burnt wood for tips.

  They were now perhaps sixty feet away. Diana sensed Laurie and Gary tensing. And Zurzay tensing even more.

  "Hold on, everyone," Diana said. "Let's give them a chance."

  Their visitors had spread out in a widely spaced semi-circle stretching nearly to the woods on either side of them. Were they preparing an escape or a flanking attack? Despite their dress and human stance, their long, thick limbs and slightly protruding baboon-human female faces reminded Diana a little of the Nazrene. It hit her then that these might very well be female Nazrene, just as the winged figure on the roof might be a female of Zurzay's species.

  They appeared to be talking among themselves while never taking their eyes from the odd human-wolf assembly behind the rocks. The lips on the tips of their muzzles moved with human dexterity, and unlike Zurzay and the male Nazrene, their mouths and facial muscles contorted and relaxed in recognizable human-like expressions. Their chittering cat-bird sounds seemed too nuanced and well-defined for mere animal utterances.

  "I think they're speaking a language," said Diana.

  "Sure seems that way," said Laurie.

  And something Diana was less certain of but couldn't help feeling: an underlying self-importance, perhaps even arrogance, in their stances and expressions. She was surprised that Zurzay towering by her side didn't induce a bit of apprehension, but nothing in their manner or apparent words suggested they were intimidated.

  One of the creatures unstrung a small bag from a belt around her waist and with a flick of her wrist sent it sailing toward them. Zurzay snapped it out of the air and untied the string securing its contents with a dexterity that surprised Diana. He plucked out a transparent green sphere and dropped it in her extended hand.

  "What is it?" Laurie asked.

  "A token of their goodwill?" Diana turned it in her hand. When she squeezed, there was a slight give. She handed it to Laurie, who raised it to her nose and sniffed.

  "It smells like soap."

  "Are they trying to tell us something?"

  Diana smiled at her and Laurie chuckled softly. Diana lifted the bag from Zurzay's hand and emptied it on a flat surface of the rock. Purple, red, yellow, and blue spheres glowed in the sunlight. Diana breathed in the soapy smell. Almost made her want to take a bath and try them out.

  "So why are they here?" Diana asked. "What do they want?"

  As if in reply, one of the simian-human creatures pointed to them and herself and intertwined her fingers.

  "To be friends?" Laurie ventured.

  Zurzay made another hissing growl and a slashing gesture.

  "Your wolf sure doesn't like 'em," said Gary. "I'd trust him on that, Di. Dude knows more about these things than we do."

  "I trust him, too." Diana eyed the soap balls, if that's what they were. She imagined bubbles bursting over her body and slick, non-greasy skin. "I'd like to keep these. Maybe we could give them something as a sign of goodwill or trade?"

  "Like what?" Gary grumbled. "Look at the way they're standing there, all spread out, some of them just about in the trees! They're planning something. I say we grease those freaky-dressed chimps before they try
to grease us."

  Diana dug out a bunch of protein bars – a snack that she was sick to death of. She placed them in the bag formerly filled with the multicolored spheres and lobbed them out to the possible female Nazrene. The one who'd tossed the bag retrieved it and removed one of the bars. She sniffed it, seeming puzzled by the foil wrapping. After some poking and prodding, the bar came apart in her hands, spilling on the grass. She sniffed an exposed piece and took an experimental bite. She spit it out with a half-snarl and flung the bag to the ground.

  To Diana, the creature's dark red-brown eyes definitely qualified as a human glare. The creature pointed a rigid finger at Diana's chest. What I'm holding against my chest.

  "I think they want my rifle," she said.

  "Like I said," Gary growled, "grease those uppity chimps. Don't make the same mistake the humans made in Planet of the Apes."

  "The remake of Planet of the Apes, you mean?" Diana asked.

  "Whatever. Point is, these apes want to rule this world. They're our enemies."

  Basing their actions on a science fiction movie didn't strike Diana as sound strategy, but to her surprise she found herself agreeing more than disagreeing with the youth's sentiment. To their visitors, Diana touched her gun and shook her head, making an emphatic motion of denial. She pointed to the bag in the grass at the simian female's feet and made a shrugging gesture.

  The creature lifted a burgundy sash around her waist and squatted over the bag. A thick grey-white spray burst from between her legs, blasting the bag. She straightened up, replacing the sash around her waist and kicking grass over the urine-soaked protein bars.

  "I'd say that's a definite no," said Diana.

  "I'm telling you, Z's right," said Gary. "Let's put those chimp-bitches down!"

  Diana centered the sights of her M&P10 on the creature's chest, her finger flirting with the trigger. But really, killing someone for peeing rudely? Seemed like overkill.

  "Please, Diana," Gary growled under his breath.

  The line of simians parted – both parties jogging toward the woods on either side of them. Diana didn't like the looks of that but still didn't feel justified in gunning them down. She wondered if her conscience – or softness – was about to get them killed.

  The simian-creatures suddenly slowed, staring back at them with an appearance of alarm. Diana traced their gazes to one side of Laurie, where the dragon now stood, mouth parted, muscles bunching in its shoulders. It was the first time Diana had seen its teeth up close, and they were a nasty bunch of fangs and molars, attached to a jaw thicker and more heavily muscled than Zurzay's – with a generous helping of horns. A sight that would breed fear in most people, and judging by the female simians' rapt stares, they shared that human trait.

  The female who'd urinated on their offering snarled a few choice remarks to her comrades, and they turned away from the woods and jogged straight down the grassy slope back toward the alien structure.

  "That's right," Gary sneered. "Run, bitches!"

  Diana lowered her rifle and leaned against the largest of the rocks, waiting for her breath to steady. Laurie smiled and patted the top of the dragon's horns.

  "I think I'll call you Spike," she said. "Probably not very original but it fits."

  "You people are like freak-creature whisperers or something," Gary mumbled.

  "What if Spike's a girl?" Diana asked. "Have you checked?"

  "Um...no." Laurie glanced toward the dragon's hindquarters.

  Down the meadow slope, the simian-creatures – the possible Nazrene females – had re-congregated near the base of the mushroom-shaped craft.

  "I think some reconnaissance might be an idea," said Diana, looking at Gary. "Maybe tonight. You up for that?"

  "Hell, yes. And if I see that monkey bitch I'll shove this spear up her –"

  "Reconnaissance only," Diana snapped. "None of your usual hijinks, Gary. Avoid engaging anyone."

  The youth's loopy smile made her expect a wisecrack – or maybe another sarcastic salute and a "Ja wohl, mein Capitan!" – but after a moment Gary averted his eyes from her hard gaze and nodded.

  "You got it," he sighed.

  Chapter 14

  HURRY UP AND WAIT. The existential condition of most days in the military, and for Dan it was déjà vu all over again as he rested all day and night and then waited for Penny and her curly-haired monster to return from their hunt the next morning. Yet there was a sagacious side to the much-maligned military dictum: taking your time and performing due diligence was often required to successfully complete a mission. Sometimes, being patient posed the greatest challenge to a person's discipline. Dan suspected that was the situation now.

  He had a fire going when Penny and Curly returned with a small buck clamped in the bear/dog-creature's powerful jaws. It didn't take long to carve off and grill some hindquarter steak for Dan and Myth while Penny and her "pet" ate their fill of raw meat.

  It could be a lot worse, Dan thought, as they ditched the three-wheel bike with its flat tire and Myth and Penny took turns towing him in his trailer with a minimal reduction in yesterday's pace. He might’ve been cursed in some ways, but he was also blessed to have the company of such exotic and powerful companions. It occurred to him that he was the lone normal human in the group – perhaps the only human, period – and yet he didn't feel like the odd man out. Old man, perhaps, but otherwise he felt part of a team that looked out for each other just as he and his former Ranger buddies had.

  A pack of fairies greeted them at the entrance to the next town, but scattered before any of them brought their weapons to bear. Some of the creepiest birds Dan had ever seen – assuming that was what they were – perched on buildings lining the main drag: about the size of eagles, they looked to Dan like a pelican-crow-vulture combo. Their grey eyes shone with a predatory light, Dan thought, but none of them even batted a feather as they passed between them.

  Dan was drifting into sleep when two nearby gunshots jerked him upright in his trailer. They were maybe a mile outside the central town with residential homes lining the road. The shot came from their right, back from the immediate houses a few blocks, Dan guessed.

  The caravan slowed to a stop, Penny and Myth looking to him for direction.

  "Let's check it out," said Dan. "Stay behind me and follow my lead. Keep your dog back with you, Penny. Whoever's back there might see Curly or Myth and shoot first and ask questions later."

  Dan hobbled ahead of them into the residential area off the main drag, hugging the first house, taking time to check out the nearby yards, roofs, and windows for movement or out of place shadows. Odds were good that the shooter was a "Redskin" – what he called the Adderall survivors in his own mind – not the type of armed individual he wanted to surprise under already tense circumstances.

  "Hello!" he shouted. "Hello?"

  Dan waited a few breaths before crossing the next street and waving the others to follow. He was amazed at how well the alien bear-dog followed Penny's brusque commands to stay at her side. He'd known a hunter or two who swore by their dogs – and a few others who swore at them – but Penny's companion was in a whole other league. With a creature like him, a hunter probably wouldn't even need a gun.

  Another street and another row of houses. The others crowded up behind him at the wall of a white two-story house, and peering around the corner, Dan shouted hello again.

  This time someone shouted back. Or at least Dan thought it was an answering cry – so faint he couldn't make out the words and for a moment wondered if it was an echo of him.

  "Hello!" he yelled. "Coming to you."

  Dan angled off in the direction of the sound.

  "He's not far," said Myth. "Two more blocks down, I think, and to the east another block."

  Dan followed Myth's suggested course, leading them down two more streets and to the east, keeping close to the cover of the homes en route to a cul-de-sac. He caught a flicker of movement behind a second-floor window in a bright blue coloni
al-style home dead center in the cul-de-sac.

  "Who the hell are you?" a voice boomed from the open window.

  "We heard gunshots," Dan yelled back. "I'm Dan Jensen from Glenwald, north of here. These three..." He searched for an apt description. "I know two of them might look a little strange, but they're okay."

  "Funny. You don't look all that okay."

  "We mean you no harm. If you want us to go, we will. But since there are, as you probably know, so few survivors..."

  A few moments crawled by. Dan watched the light shift in the second story window. Was the man scoping them out or placing the crosshairs of a scope on his head?

  "All right," the man called to them. "You can come into my house. Just you for now. We'll talk inside. Leave your weapons behind, if you don't mind."

  Dan did mind, but he could understand why the man might have some reservations. They had to look like denizens of a science fiction universe wandering down the street. Not that this world wasn't already science fiction enough, but he doubted there was a stranger assemblage walking on this planet.

  "Why should you do what he's telling you to, Mr. Jensen?" Penny protested. "We don't need him!"

  "I know. I'll talk to him and we'll see how that goes." Dan faced the house and the man at the window and lifted his voice. "Okay." He set down his rifle and unbuckled his pistol belt beside the rifle. "I'm on my way."

  The man watching from the upper window came into focus as Dan approached the house. He appeared to be a large, bearded individual holding a long rifle – bolt-action, heavy caliber, Dan guessed. He took it as a good sign the man wasn't pointing it at him.

  When Dan reached the front steps, the man was there, holding open the door, the rifle no longer in his hands.

  "Hello," said Dan.

  "Come in."

  Dan thought he understood why the man hadn't bothered to arm himself for their meeting. The guy was big, bordering on huge. Six-six, at least, and maybe two-sixty, two-seventy. And it wasn't a soft two-seventy: broad shoulders, flat stomach, muscular arms, and legs. He looked to Dan with his squinting, fierce grey-blue eyes, scraggly grey-blond beard, and mane of matching hair like a Viking who'd stepped out of the past, perhaps directly from a freshly landed longboat. For a fraction of a moment, Dan saw him wearing a tunic and chain mail and a massive sword or ax hanging at his side, but blinking aside the illusion it was just one big, fierce-looking dude in jeans and a woolen work shirt.