ZooFall

by Lawrence Ambrose

  "You've spent a lot of time in hotels?" Diana broke the silence.

  "Enough they should've named one or two after me."

  "What line of work were you in?"

  "Consulting."

  "For anyone in particular?"

  "Maybe some of the same people you consulted for."

  Diana gave him a cool smile and nodded. "Dan told you about my background."

  "Just the basics."

  They sipped their coffee, Gunnar's gaze turning into a true one thousand yard stare.

  "I've been on some strange teams before," he mused, "full of oddball and eccentric operators with a variety of special skills. But a Ranger, a Spook, a Green Beret, two superhuman red-skinned kids, a human-alien hybrid with wings, and an intelligent dog near the size of a grizzly..." He smiled and shook the mane on his head. "My former bands of weirdoes pale in comparison."

  "You should've seen us when we had a winged wolf and a dragon," Diana laughed.

  "Ha." He scratched his head. "Dan told me about the wolf. Never mentioned a dragon."

  "That came later. And the dragon was never an official member. We helped a wounded one back on the trail a bit, and in a case of perfect timing it showed up during a tense negotiation – much like your own – we were having with a group of Azrene that wanted our guns."

  Gunnar let out what sounded like a pained grunt. "Can't say the females apes aren't ambitious. And intelligent. They saw the potential when their male counterparts didn't."

  "A little too much ambition and intelligence. Can you imagine what they'd be like if they had modern weapons?"

  "I'd say it's not a matter of if but when." Gunnar met her appalled look with a hard smile. "They're gun shops all around here. Even without our help, they'll start playing with them and eventually put two and three together, don't you think?"

  "I think you have a pretty pessimistic point of view."

  Gunnar chuckled. "Comes with the territory, I guess. But the way I see it unless the 'Keepers' take back their zoo creatures at some point, we're going to have a real Darwinian donnybrook down here."

  "Or yet another remake of the Planet of the Apes."

  "Not sure I can face that kind of horror." His grin faded quickly. "Seriously, we don't know how many other intelligent, dangerous species were dropped here. For all we know, the 'Nazrene' isn’t the worst of the bunch."

  "I don't know. But it seems to me there would be a point when something's intelligence would become lethal for the zookeepers."

  "I understand primitive human beings are in this alien zoo. I guess that means our species isn't lethally intelligent enough."

  "Maybe not as primitives." Diana set her jaw. "But someday they may bite off more than they can chew."

  "Maybe that day is now – by landing here?"

  She noted the cold glint in his eye – the same glint, she guessed, that was in her head. Someway, somehow, the worm, as Shakespeare had once said, would turn. Surely, there had to be some universal justice that would punish the Keepers for their hubris?

  "That's a nice thought," she said.

  "We have a chunk of alien technology sitting a few miles away. A possible physical link to them. After rescuing the Jensens that might be something worth looking into."

  "Maybe walk in there and beam up to their mothership guns blazing with a suitcase full of C4?"

  "How about a suitcase nuke?"

  "You know where we could pick up one of those cheap?"

  Gunnar laughed softly. Diana was smiling but wasn't really feeling the humor. Getting the jump on aliens with vastly superior technology might be a well-worn cliché of science fiction, but she didn't see that working out well in reality. The reality was that nothing guaranteed good would triumph over evil. She'd witnessed that truth more than once up close and personal. She suspected Gunnar had, too.

  The idea of extending their mission to another violent, risky action after they'd rescued Sonja and Donny Jensen – assuming that happened – was about as appealing to Diana as scuba diving near the Fukushima nuclear plant. But then maybe it wasn't about what she wanted. Maybe it was about taking a stand for the human race against the beings that had annihilated a good portion of it, regardless of personal loss.

  Dan joined them, sleepy-eyed, accepting a cup of coffee from Gunnar.

  "So he's still out there," he said.

  "I sent Myth to go check on him," said Diana. "About twenty minutes ago."

  Dan looked at her for a moment before nodding. "Good."

  Gunnar added another log to the fire. They sat in silence. Diana found her thoughts riding and falling with the uneven flames, treading the line between wakefulness and sleep. For many minutes she didn't worry about Gary or the Jensens or the fate of the world. She drifted in a calm place between anxiety and ambition, happy to luxuriate in the mythical "eternal now."

  Then Myth sprinted into camp.

  "Gary and an Azrene are in the safe zone around the Hub," she announced. "Guarded by large numbers of Nazrene and Azrene gathered outside that zone."

  Diana traded looks with the two men.

  "I can see how Gary might've ended up in the no-conflict zone," she said, "but why would he be with the Azrene? Are you sure they're together, Myth?"

  "They appear to be, since they are standing close to each other, but they might be there for different reasons." Myth turned to face Dan. "I did locate your family, Dan. Since the Azrene camp is missing many of its members, it was easier for me to search the tents. Your son and wife are in a tent on the northwest part of the camp."

  "Thank you, Myth," said Dan. "That's good news, at least. I wonder if Gary found them, too."

  "If he did," Gunnar said, "he obviously ran into a bit of trouble along the way."

  "Trouble that involved an Azrene?" Diana asked.

  "Looks that way."

  No one spoke for several moments.

  "Well," said Dan, rubbing his sparse blond beard, "this introduces a new wrinkle into things. You say the Azrene camp is missing a large number of its people, Myth? How well is my family being guarded?"

  "They weren't being guarded at all that I could see. No one's with them in their tent and most of the tents next to theirs are empty."

  "Well, Christ, Myth – if that's the situation why the hell didn't you just walk them out of there?"

  "Because there are many Azrene moving around in the area, Dan. I was spotted on the way out myself, but they weren't interested in pursuing me – perhaps because I appear to be a zoo creature. But if Donny and Sonja had been with me..."

  "Ah. I get it. Sorry I snapped at you, Myth." Dan turned to the others. "I think I see an opportunity here."

  "The boy is a pretty big distraction, for the moment," said Gunnar. "We could use that. In fact, we could double-down on it." He smiled suddenly. "We could launch – or pretend to launch – a rescue of Gary, and while they're defending that, someone whisks in and rescues your family."

  "That's more or less what I was thinking."

  "If they aren't interested in zoo creatures," said Diana, "that makes me wonder if we could disguise them – or even ourselves. That would make our jobs a lot easier."

  "Disguise ourselves how?" Dan asked.

  "I don't know. Some kind of costume?"

  Gunnar laughed. "I can see us dressed up as Halloween ghouls. The monkeys wouldn't give us a second look. Now all we need is a costume store."

  "Shouldn't be a problem," said Dan. "They have those on every street corner in Northern Minnesota, don't they?"

  Diana chuckled along with them but wasn't quite ready to ditch her idea. "Maybe we don't need a costume store? We're near a residential neighborhood. There must've been tons of young kids. Wouldn't some of them have Halloween costumes in their closets?" She looked to Dan.

  "I have no idea," said Dan. "My kids were never much into trick or treating."

  "Seems worth a try." Diana surveyed the sky and the eastern horizon. "Any guess about how many hours of solid darkness
we have left?"

  "I'd guess three, tops," said Gunnar.

  "Not enough time for both finding costumes and a rescue tonight, then." Diana frowned. "My vote would be to search some of the houses tomorrow on the western edge away from both baboon camps for disguises. We need time to make a plan, anyway."

  Dan stared at her. "You really believe the simians couldn't see – or smell – through a bunch of costumes?"

  "Maybe if we covered our odor well enough..." She frowned.

  "I think there might be a way of doing that," said Gunnar. "Smearing the remains of a dead animal over the outfits might do the trick."

  Dan released a frustrated grunt. "For all we know, the opportunity we have now will be gone by tomorrow night. Gary might escape or be killed. All the Azrene could go back to their camp."

  Gunnar spread his long arms wide in acknowledgment of those truths. "You want to make a move now, my friend, I'm with you. It's your folks down there. But my official advice is to try Diana's costume idea, as crazy as it sounds, but more importantly, take a day to work up a plan. Three hours of night just isn't enough to do this right."

  Dan ground his knuckles together and slowly bowed his head in obeisance to an unpleasant reality.

  "Okay," he sighed. "So if we're going to go trick or treating tonight, we'd better get started."

  Chapter 18

  THE UNCOMFORTABLE NATURE OF his current predicament dawned with greater force on Gary as time passed within the illuminated Rodney King Zone. First, he needed to evacuate the raccoon and two rabbits he'd consumed before his nocturnal sojourn. More urgently, the half-gallon of lake water demanded release. On top of that, he was as hungry as a pregnant sow and twice as ornery with the thirty apes camped out beyond the light glaring at him.

  "Molly" – what he'd started to call the female chimp-creature after the substitute teacher he'd porked who kind of reminded him of her – seemed to be suffering even more than he was. The way she hopped from foot to foot with a strained expression that reminded him of one of his sisters when they were younger and desperate to piss.

  Molly moved, shivering, toward the Hub, and motioned Gary to stay back as an entrance appeared in the wall. She stepped through and the wall rematerialized as he'd witnessed so many times before. Gary walked to where she'd entered, but of course, nothing happened. Thanks a lot, girlfriend.

  Gary was about to let fly against the wall as a token of his feelings when a group of thirty or forty light-haired men, women, and children swathed in leather cloths and bearing spears, clubs, and axes strode into the zone on one side of Nazrene in an all-business/don't get in my way mode. Gary's monkey-guards watched the Stone Agers intently but made no move to interfere.

  One of the last of the primitive people was the red-haired girl, "Twiggy," who'd assisted Gary with the Azrene outfit. On an impulse, Gary jogged after them. No one paid him much mind except Twiggy, who paused at the entrance.

  "Hey, sweet-cheeks!" he called. "They happen to have a restroom in there?"

  The girl gave him a pleased smile and a little wave. A brawny arm lashed out from inside and started to drag her inside, but she grabbed the edge of the building, resisting. Gary saw his chance. With a determined grunt, he launched himself at the doorway. The girl had one leg sticking out when he closed with one final burst of speed. He and the leg passed through the entrance in the same instant.

  Gary found himself standing in daylight on a yellow-grassed hill surrounded by short, heavy-set men and a phalanx of spears and axes. The girl tried to join him within the circle was shouldered roughly back. One of the men, a yellow and red-bearded dude with shoulders that looked like small boulders, was gesturing with his spear and uttering angry guttural sounds as if accusing Gary of something.

  "Greetings, Red Brothers." Their skin was reddish, after all, though not as crimson as his. He shifted his spear and the cave dudes closed in on him with low growls. "Hey, take it easy, dudes."

  The spear points held rigidly three feet from him, the men's faces as hard and chiseled – and as uncomprehending – as granite. Gary decided to try a different tack, speaking more at their level.

  "Me wantum take pissum." Gary huffed out each word in a deep, guttural Stone Age voice. When they showed no response, he touched his groin area and mimed urinating with both hands. "Need bleedum lizardum."

  The primitives appeared to finally get it. The boulder-shouldered dude nodded with a crusty smile and murmured something to his fellows, and soon a chorus of nods and murmurs and approving smiles rolled around their ranks. Twiggy was giggling behind her hand again. The circle obligingly split apart, and the blond-red-bearded man waved him through.

  Gary waddled over to the nearest tree and after struggling with his outfit's incomprehensible clasps finally just ripped the bottom part free and found his twofold release.

  By the time he'd finished and stepped out from behind the tree, the primitives were halfway down the hill. Gary looked around for an exit. All he saw were hills and fields and patches of forest extending to the horizon in every direction.

  "Oh, shit," he murmured.

  He returned to the exact spot he'd arrived at, stomping around in the grass and pawing the air. Nothing. But there had to be a doorway somewhere. He'd seen the Stone Agers and lots of others go in and out, after all. They had to have some secret password or something. He just needed to stick with them. Gary hurried down the hill after the group.

  Other than a couple of glances, the clan didn't pay much mind to him. They were moving with a purpose, surveying the countryside, mumbling among themselves. The blond-red bearded guy pointed his spear toward a nearby hilltop and they all changed direction toward it. At the top of the hill, the men shunted the women and children – including Twiggy – into a patch of trees along with three younger, smaller guys, and continued on their way. Probably going off to hunt. Gary resisted an urge to go with them and instead joined Twiggy and the others in the trees.

  Gary paced around in the trees, hoping to root out a squirrel or rabbit, but all he spotted was a crow-like bird at the top of a tree. Hardly worth the effort. The crow squawked at him as if to second that. He returned to the group, dropping down on a soft clump of grass beside Twiggy, who smoothed back her hair and smiled at him approvingly.

  The three young dudes, squatting on their haunches a few yards away, didn't seem so approving. They looked him up and down with cold grey-green eyes, their square faces as expressionless as blocks of ice. Gary measured them in return. He was about twice their size and more muscular, though he had to admit they packed a fair amount of meat and bone on their short bodies. Might make decent wrestlers with their thick peg-legs and arms and barrel chests. Still, he was pretty sure even his old self could've taken them. As he was now, he didn't doubt he could flatten all three of them without breaking a sweat, not taking in account their spears and clubs. He guessed they could wield them pretty effectively, probably better than he could with his own spear and knife. He might be stronger and faster than fuck, but skill meant a lot when it came to weapons, he grudgingly acknowledged. The ninja-chimp had made that clear when she'd plucked him apart like a country girl picking beans.

  A little blond-haired boy, maybe two or three, jumped into his lap, laughing. Gary patted him on the head and inhaled his barn animal musk. Not the odor his mom and her book club people would've appreciated – she'd bugged him every time he'd skipped a shower – but to Gary, he smelled like steak on a stick. Tasty. Just one bite...just one little nibble from his bare shoulder? The thought backed saliva down Gary's throat. He shook his head – violently enough to make the boy look up at him with concern.

  "Cute kid," he said, patting his shoulder. Not tasty, cute! "Why don't you, uh, go play somewhere?"

  He eased the boy off his lap and forced his focus away from him to the land beyond their patch of woods. The hunters were now out of sight. He could only hope they returned soon with food and were willing to share.

  The hills and forests could
've been in Minnesota, maybe during the driest time of the year, but they had a different vibe. Gary couldn't quite put his finger – or his nose – on it, but the air, apart from the immediate company, had a fresh-scrubbed odor, a pure woodsiness that he'd never quite experienced, even far out in the country.

  Speaking of odors, Twiggy was putting out a heady medley of smells herself – definitely muskier and more nose-twitching than any of the normal people he'd been around. Maybe she needed to change her loin cloth or take a shower, but Gary doubted it was just that. If he had to put a word on it he'd say "ripeness." Like a ripe fruit that needed to be picked. And man, was he ever the dude to do that "picking"!

  He wondered how the others would feel about that. Would the boys who'd been left behind object if he and she took a little stroll in the woods and found a nice, quiet spot to get busy? Would she object? The way she was smiling at him, sliding closer so that their thighs almost touched, he didn't think so. He doubted Stone Age chicks had religion or were hung-up about sex. Just fuck and make babies. Maybe not with their brothers or sisters – he grimaced as an unwanted image popped in his head – but with some eligible dude it should be like free hippie love in the sixties, right?

  Gary was so enamored of his vision of long-haired Stone Age hippie chicks that at first he didn't notice the new pungent odor tickling his nose. Smelled like old lady Wilson's cat house that he'd once stupidly agreed to housesit as a kid. But that had been just a bunch of mewling and snarling little cats pissing and shitting in every corner of the house. This smell was as big and powerful as the great outdoors.

  Turning his head in the direction of the odor, the first thing Gary saw was the little boy who'd been in his lap standing outside the trees at the edge of the tall grass a few meters away. The second thing he saw was a crouching form so close in color to the grass that it could've been drawn by the same paint. Something large enough that the little boy, standing in the foreground, didn't block out the creature's broad, tufted cat-head.