Animals

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Animals Page 6

by David A. Simpson


  Derek was a large man, but she managed to drag him into the golf cart. She nearly vomited when she picked up his dismembered limbs and put them in the back but she forced it down. She’d seen worse she kept telling herself. She ignored the twisted faces and hungry cries at the gates, they weren’t an immediate problem. Tick tock. She didn’t have time for niceties or to be dainty. She had a mission that had to be finished. It just had to. She hopped in and pressed the pedal to the floor, racing against the clock. Four minutes later she stood on the bank of the Mississippi in their favorite getaway spot. She had a lot of memories here lying on a blanket, talking about nothing and everything. No time for them now, though. She wrestled his body to the muddy water, waded out to her waist. She leaned over and pressed her forehead against his for a few seconds, allowing herself a moment to say goodbye before she pushed him out as far into the current as she could. The slow waters carried him away as she tossed the other parts of him as far out as she could. She did throw up then, heaving bile into the muddy water. She splashed her face, washed her hands and waded ashore. She felt like he would approve. As a younger man, he’d done a stint in the Coast Guard. She looked at her watch again. Twenty-eight minutes.

  She took the long way back, racing along the trails looking for any more of the zombies but there were none to be seen. If they were here, she was sure they would come after her, killing people seemed to be their only motivation. She bailed out of the cart and approached the door to the first aid station where Anna stood swaying. She paid no attention to the woman staring in at her and Kelly nearly wailed. She’d been hoping she was wrong. Hoping the sunlight being blindingly bright and the throbbing in her head was just stress. Just a migraine coming on. She’d hoped the black streaks running up her arm from the tiny little nip Anna had given her when they fought at the door was just dirt. Or scratches. Or anything other than the virus racing through her system but it wasn’t. She’d supposed she’d known all along; it was what gave her the strength to do what she’d done. Anna ignoring her was the last confirmation she needed. She was already infected. Already one of them.

  From the few minutes she’d had dealing with the undead, she’d learned a few things fast. If they killed you, you came back instantly. If they bit you, it took a little more time. The first man they’d been treating in the station had lasted for ten or fifteen minutes and his bite was large and terrible. Anna had turned almost instantly when her throat was ripped out. She only had a nick, it barely broke the skin, but she’d been feeling the cold spread of the disease almost since it happened. She could feel it in her head now, icy fingers curling around her brain. Derek hadn’t been killed by the undead and none of them had bitten him so she was pretty sure it wasn’t in the air; it was through direct contact. Bites or maybe even scratches. The newly turned were vicious and fast and inhumanly strong. A hundred people had fallen to it in a matter of minutes. She knew why the phones hadn’t been answered. She knew no one would be coming to rescue them. She knew they were on their own.

  She couldn’t leave Cody to deal with Derek’s remains so she had to get rid of them. Her boy was close to breaking already. She couldn’t leave Anna locked up for him to deal with, she had to get rid of her. She couldn’t turn into one of them on this side of the gate, she had to get rid of herself.

  Kelly opened the door and pushed Anna aside, latched it securely behind her and grabbed a pen and paper from the desk. Her arm spasmed with a shooting pain and she knew she had to hurry.

  Cody,

  I’m so sorry I can’t be here for you. I got bit when things went crazy. I’ll be one of them soon, I feel myself getting sicker by the minute. Don’t let them bite you no matter what. I love you son. You have been my whole world since the day you entered kicking and screaming. Never stop. Never stop kicking and screaming no matter what. Your father was a brave man. You have his strength. He would be so proud of you. I don’t know what’s coming. I think you are on your own. I don’t think help will ever arrive but I want you to promise me you’ll kick and scream the whole way. You can do this. Don’t leave the park, it’s fenced and safe. Try to protect the people and the animals for as long as you can. Do what you must. Do what’s right and what’s necessary, even if it’s hard.

  I’m leaving now and I’ll try to lead the rest of them away but I’ll always be with you.

  Love,

  Mom.

  She had so many more things to tell him, so much more advice to give, but there wasn’t time. She looked at her watch but couldn’t read the hands, she wasn’t sure what they meant anymore. Her writing had gone from neat and curly to barely legible, her mind was getting foggy. She left it on the counter where he would find it and stumbled to her feet, tears nearly blinding. She grabbed Anna by the hand and led her outside.

  She tried to hurry as she led Anna towards the entrance gates. With nothing to hold their attention, some of the undead were still at the bars but most milled aimlessly around the parking lot. She pushed a few out of the way, stepped through then double checked that the door was secure behind her. She swayed for a moment, lost in darkness, her mind completely blank. Kelly felt the dryness of her throat and mouth and had difficulty swallowing, sweat poured in rivers down her body as the fever raged, the virus attacking her at the cellular level. It wouldn’t be long now. She winced through the pain in her skull as the sun stabbed into her eyes, the pupils nearly fully dilated. A small part of her came back, the dying bit of human that still remained and she shook the gate one last time. It held and she grabbed Anna by the hand and pulled her away from the zoo. She began singing the lullaby she sang when Cody was a restless infant, the notes raw in her throat. The undead lurched towards her, the ones at the fence running toward the sound. Their dead minds were confused, they heard a human but smelled one of their own kind. They sensed the infection coursing through her veins but they followed her singing and shambled along behind her. She wanted to get as far away as she could before it was too late. She led them away, past the burning wrecks at the entrance and turned south where the road meandered for miles before it came to the next town. She cried and sang as she led them away from her baby and after she died, when the virus completely took her, she climbed back to her feet and followed the shambling crowd.

  11

  The Children

  “I can’t get a call out,” the father with the papoose said in exasperation.

  His wife was frantically dialing her own cell and ignoring her traumatized daughter crying and clinging to her leg.

  “How can all the circuits still be busy?” she asked, the panic making her voice shriller and shriller. “How come nobody is answering?”

  Her husband ignored her and tried redialing his own phone. 9-1-1. All circuits busy. Hang up and try again as fast as he could. He needed someone to answer. Someone to reassure him help was on the way.

  “We can’t stay here,” the other man said.

  He was older, graying around the temples, had a deep tan and the build of a man who worked with his hands for a living. A plumber or carpenter. Maybe a heavy equipment operator.

  They were in the visitor’s center, the original house that had been built near the turn of the century, with the doors locked and the curtains drawn.

  Cody paced and tried to shut them all out. He wanted to run to his mom, help her deal with Derek and Anna, get some kind of answers to what was going on. What were those things? What made people go crazy like that?

  Everyone was in the spacious lobby and on their cells, either trying to call emergency services or family

  “Snap chat is working,” said one of the kids.

  “Twitter, too.” Another answered and everyone gave up trying to dial phone numbers.

  They went to the internet, it was still up and working. Chaos was everywhere as they heard panic and screams coming out of the tinny sounding speakers from a dozen different news feeds. People were attacking other people. There was murder, riots, looting and anarchy all across the nation, especial
ly in the east coast towns. The big cities were tearing themselves apart from the inside out and it had been going on for hours. No one had heard from the president. The military were supposed to be on red alert but the reporters hadn’t heard anything from them, either.

  “Someone should declare martial law,” one morning show host declared.

  “Someone should declare a mandatory curfew,” opined another.

  Anyone that started their mornings with television or listening to the radio hadn’t ventured out of their houses to enjoy a day at the zoo, they were riveted to the TV until the stations started going off the air. Some did the worst thing possible, they ran to the stores to stock up on supplies. Most never made it back. No one in the park had turned on the news until now, they had all been blissfully ignorant as the world fell apart until it happened to them. If they listened to anything at all that morning, it had been streaming music, cd’s or mp3 players filled with their favorite songs.

  Cory peeked through the curtains trying to see his mom or any movement outside. He’d heard the golf cart come flying by a few minutes ago but couldn’t see it or her. He knew she was counting on him to keep these people safe but he wanted to go to her. There were adults here, they could take over now. It was too much. Too much to ask of him.

  “It’s everywhere,” Murray said holding up his phone. “Des Moines is burning, people are looting and rioting, and the zombies are attacking anything that moves!”

  “Zombies?” the younger father said. “Zombies aren’t real; those people are high on something, or sick. That virus has been on the news for a couple of days now.”

  Murray looked at him, “Don’t you know what’s happening? This is it, the end of the world as we know it. One of them bites somebody, who bites somebody else and pretty soon we’re all living in sewers and scavenging for cat food! Don’t you watch movies?”

  The older man scoffed, “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t care. We’re leaving. I’ll run down any of those crazies that get in my way, that’s what a brush guard is for. I’ve got a safe full of guns at the house. Druggies, sick people, the walking dead, I don’t care what you want to call them, if they come around my place, me and my boys are gonna light ‘em up.”

  The two boys nodded in agreement, excitement tamping down their fear. Their dad was always talking about being prepared, you never knew when everything could go to hell in a handbasket. He’d mostly meant the government getting out of control, about the Tree of Liberty being watered with the blood of tyrants, but a zombie uprising was just as bad. Maybe worse.

  The older man looked at the couple with the two children. “If you want to get out of here, you’re welcome to come with us. Same for all you kids, there’s no room for everyone in my truck but I can come back and get you. We’ll get you back to your parents and in a few days the cops or National Guard will have this under control and it will all blow over.”

  The younger couple whispered to each other and both nodded at the older man. “We’re with you.”

  Murray wheeled his chair in circles anxiously. “You leave, you die, and if you let those zombies in the gate they’ll kill us. C’mon, look at the news, this is everywhere. The world is dying.”

  “Kid, you should lay off the video games. This ain’t nothing but some bad drugs getting passed around and some crazies using the chaos to get a new flat screen and some Air Jordans.”

  “Those people aren’t looking for a flat screen.” Murray said and pointed towards the front gate. “I think they’re looking for brains.”

  “Come on, let’s go,” the man said and headed for the door, ignoring the kid who obviously watched too many horror movies. Zombies weren’t real.

  The other family and their small children fell in line behind him.

  Cody stopped pacing and stepped between him and the door. “Please, my mom said...”

  “Kid, no offense, but your mom ain’t in charge of us. We’re leaving, we’ve got family to check on so decide right now whether you want me to come back or not but get out of my way.”

  “My family is already here.” Cody said lamely and stepped aside. “I have to stay.”

  The man looked at the other kids who looked at each other.

  “I guess we will, too.” Murray said. “Our parents know where we are. They’ll come get us, right guys?”

  There were nods from the others, slow and unsure at first but once they thought about it, it made sense.

  “We’ll stay, Mister but thanks for the offer.” Harper said “My dad would be mad if he came for me and I wasn’t here.”

  “Makes sense,” the man said. “Lock up behind us.”

  They checked to be sure none of the crazies were anywhere around and the families left the house, hurrying to the parking lot while it was still empty. The kids made their way to the living room with the overstuffed furniture and went back to their phones, trying to get in touch with their own families. All but the lean Asian boy, he clung to the shadows. He had nowhere to go and there was no one who cared if he was safe or not.

  Cody watched the small group leave, heard their cars start up a few minutes later then slipped out of the door. He scanned the area, listened intently for the keens or screams of the crazy people and looked for any sign of his mom. She was nowhere to be seen. He left the porch and edged towards the snack shack and the front gate. He wanted to make sure they had closed it behind them. Derek’s body was gone and the golf cart was parked haphazardly in front of the nurse’s station. There was a lot of blood staining the cargo hold so it was easy to figure out what she’d done but that didn’t explain why she hadn’t come to the house.

  The area around the front entrance and parking lot was empty. The gift shop door stood ajar, a tipped over postcard rack blocking it open. The park was unusually quiet, the only sound was the breeze rustling the leaves and the crackling of flames barely heard from the car fire near the road entrance. No chittering from the monkeys. No cries of the peacocks or bleating of the goats. Even the chickens were quiet. Everything was hiding, being still and silent.

  He heard them as they joined him to stare out at the parking lot. An hour ago, there had been a line of happy people waiting to get in, their biggest concern was sunblock and hoping the animals were active so they could get some good pictures. Now there were a half dozen smashed cars and a school bus burning brightly, the parking lot had pools of blood and shredded clothes littering it. Discarded shoes and purses were everywhere. Flies were gathering at the puddles and drinking their fill. They watched in silence for a few moments before the oldest looking girl finally said something.

  “I think that’s Mr. Baynard,” she pointed to a form crawling towards them, its lower body broken and burnt but the remnants of a flashy necktie could be still be seen. His head was still smoldering, wisps of smoke curling up from the burnt hair. They watched as he scratched his way toward them, pulling himself slowly along. Something had torn him open. A car bumper or maybe another crazy and his entrails were spilling out, sliding across the asphalt behind him.

  “I don’t think its drugs making them crazy. No kind of drug can make you act like that,” a young black girl said and moved in a little closer into the group.

  “It’s zombies.” Murray said. “There is no other explanation. Prove me wrong.”

  No one tried because no one could. He was right. They watched the slow progress in horrified fascination, saw it tried to scream at them but no sound came from the burnt things mouth.

  Cody was the first to tear his eyes away from the slow-moving horror.

  “I’ve got to find my mom. She will know what to do.”

  “We can help,” an Indian girl said. “Do you think we’re safe in here?”

  “Should be.” Cody said, “We’re surrounded by fence. Good fences that keep the antelope in so it ought to keep those things out. They don’t seem to be very smart. I don’t think they can climb.”

  “Where should we start searching?” the pale boy
said and his sister nodded at his words.

  Cody bit his lip and looked to the nurse’s station with its gore stained, spider webbed window. At the bloody cart parked in front of it. She should have come to the house unless something was wrong. Unless something had happened to her. Suddenly he felt really glad the kids were with him, he didn’t want to be alone. He was afraid of what he’d find when he looked inside. He pointed, his throat too tight to speak and they understood.

  “Um, dude.” Murray said. “We need weapons. I know she’s your mom and all but, you know, maybe she’s not anymore.”

  Harper gasped and swatted him for being so insensitive but he didn’t back down.

  “Just saying, that’s all,” he defended himself.

  “He’s right.” Cody said. “She might not be…”

  He swallowed the giant lump in his throat and finished “herself.”

  He pulled the door open to the snack shack and handed everyone a long knife or barbeque fork before they made their way over. The office was trashed. Blood, broken bottles, smashed cabinets and spilled desk drawers cluttered the place but no one was inside either living or dead. The quiet Asian boy handed him a note as they turned to leave. It had been laying on the counter and everyone else had overlooked it.

  12

  Cody

  Piedmont House was commissioned by Theopolis James Piedmont in 1897. Construction began that spring and the last nail was driven flush in the winter of the same year. Three stories tall with a large open floorplan for entertaining the elite members of society, it featured indoor plumbing and was one of the first houses in the region to have electric power. In addition to having its own telegraph lines, it was also the first to utilize Alexander Graham Bell’s new-fangled device called the telephone. With its lavish design, modern conveniences and the Piedmont flair for aristocracy, it was the envy of north eastern Iowa.

 

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