by Michael Todd
Chris dashed over to him. He appeared half-conscious at best. Both his legs were splayed and bent in the wrong places and covered in blood. A shard of bone jutted out his left shin. His hands shook like rubber as more blood pooled under his back. The creature had not only broken Wallace’s legs, but quite possibly shattered the man’s spine.
The shotgun was nowhere to be seen. He must have dropped it on the other side of the fallen tree when the thing hit him.
“You son of a bitch!” Chris snarled. He aimed his pistol and waited for the monster to come and finish the job. It seemed to have vanished back into the foliage and vines—thick, fat, squirming vines that draped through the branches overhead.
A brown shape scuttled by to Chris’s right and he backed up a few steps and deliberately stomped on one of the tendrils. It trembled beneath his foot. No matter how closely together the organisms in the Zoo might work, they were still individual living things with their own separate prerogatives. That’s how it was with every ecosystem.
Two small trees shattered, their leaves and splinters blasting into the tiny clearing where he stood beside Wallace. In an instant the huge rat-beast was on him. It spread its arms and opened its fanged mouth to drool over him in the split second before it made its kill. The creature’s breath reeked like pig manure in an open grave.
Chris fired. He didn’t aim but simply unleashed a torrent of bullets, some toward the creature and others above it. The gun naturally pulled upwards as he blasted away, and he made no effort to correct it. At least one of the bullets struck a couple of the thick vines overhead.
The kangaroo-rat fell back for a moment, stunned and bleeding slightly but not badly wounded. It bared its teeth in a snarl and prepared to charge. One of the thick vines above it dropped casually downwards, its fat green lips parting in something almost like a smile.
Both creatures pounced at once. The vine caught the rat in midair and its jaws clamped down on the back of the marsupial’s neck. The latter shrieked and gibbered in sudden terror and agony. Its body flailed and its limbs thrashed as the carnivorous plant’s neck distended to swallow its head and shoulders, crushing bones and rupturing organs in the process. The predator shuddered limply as the vine dragged it up and away. Chris didn’t put it out of its misery.
“Law of the jungle,” he breathed, and fell to his knees beside Wallace.
The sergeant was still more or less conscious. One of his eyes twitched. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, although his voice was faint and weak.
“You need—go—mission. Send someone—back later…” He gasped. “Almost—out.”
Foliage rustled, and thumping sounds approached again from both sides.
“Oh, hell.” Chris raised his pistol, although there wasn’t much it could do at this point.
Clinging to trees both to his left and right were two more kangaroo-rats. Both grinned at him. They were half the size of the one he’d just dealt with, but that didn’t matter much. There was no way he could fight both at once.
“Go,” Wallace gasped.
Another sound caught their attention—a grinding and clanking sound and the noise of multiple forms moving through the jungle. It came from the opposite direction, toward the desert…and the Wall.
“I’m not leaving you,” Chris said. He shielded the soldier with his body
The two rat-things leapt down from their perches and stood above the two men on the fallen tree to cast their shadows over their prey. Any moment now—
“Cut them down!” someone shouted. Electric lights flooded the clearing, dispersing the gloom. The United States Army opened fire.
In the blaze of muzzle flashes and halo of light, Chris could see at least twenty men and two vehicles approach, including a figure perched behind a mounted machine gun who looked familiar. Above him, the wet sounds of carnage and raspy, high-pitched screams sounded as the two predators were shredded.
“Clear!” someone shouted. The guns went quiet.
Chris stood. Someone shone a light directly in his face and he squinted.
“Dr. Christopher Lin?” a man’s voice asked.
“Yeah,” he said in a weak voice. He was torn between relief, delayed-reaction terror, and the desire to pass out. “Sergeant Wallace is behind me. He’s been badly wounded. Both legs are broken and possibly his back. Everyone else is dead.”
As Chris had suspected, Gunnar the gunner stood behind the now-smoking weapon on the ATV. He produced a mysteriously-lit cigarette, drew on it, and blew the smoke nonchalantly. “Well, looks like you fucked her,” he said.
The man who’d asked Chris’s name stepped forward. “I’m Lieutenant Danvers, under Major Martinez at the base. Did you get Dr. Marie’s files?”
He nodded. Other men moved around him to tend to Wallace. He prayed one of them was a medic.
Danvers extended a hand. Chris fished around in his pocket for a moment, produced the flash drive, and set it firmly in the center of the man’s palm.
“Thanks,” he said, pocketing the drive. “Well done.” He cleared his throat and added, “You’re under arrest.”
Chapter Twenty
If this was the so-called good cop, bad cop method, Chris had yet to meet the good cop.
“What were you thinking?” the man asked and did his best to impersonate an angry father speaking to a child who’d been caught playing with the chemicals under the bathroom sink. “You didn’t even speak to the C.O. of the base!” In his fatigues and big-ass hat, he reminded Chris of R. Lee Ermey in that one old movie.
Chris said nothing. He sat on a stool in the corner of the small, unfurnished, and brightly-lit room that now served as the base’s jail. At least they’d given him a second cup of coffee. He sipped it slowly.
“What did you see at the old base?” the man went on. “What did you see? Were you planning on relaying that information to anyone? Do you want to be tossed into a military prison without a trial with a bunch of guys who will eat you for fucking breakfast? Hmm? I’m waiting—”
“I already told you,” Chris said, “that I’m not talking until you guys answer my questions. All I know is what I heard from Kemp. And she’s dead.” He took another sip of coffee.
Mr. Drill Sergeant/Bad Cop stared at him in a mixture of rage and disbelief. It occurred to the scientist that two days before, if this man had tossed him into a locked room and yelled at him like this, he would have been terrified and probably would have cooperated without hesitation.
Something was different now. Everything he’d seen and done since he’d arrived had worked a change in him—the exhaustion that should have killed him but didn’t, the people he had either tried to save or watched die, the limits he had pushed himself against and through. Christopher Lin was no longer the same person. He’d thought that when a person grew balls of steel, it would make them more of a swaggering asshole like the late Chad. Chris didn’t feel any need to swagger, though he could have if it had suited his purposes. He simply felt…calm. Death had been his riding partner. That changed a man.
The interrogator made a throaty sound of disgust, turned, and left. The door locked behind him. Chris finished his coffee. He’d have to ask to use the bathroom next time they returned, unless toilet deprivation was something they planned to use as an interrogation tactic. He supposed he could piss in the now-empty cup.
Perhaps five minutes passed when the door opened again. Three men entered. One was a short stout Mestizo gentleman with a neat salt-and-pepper mustache and what looked like a fairly high rank-insignia. The Major, presumably.
The other two were the goddamn Men in Black. Both were tall and dressed identically in snappy black suits and shiny black sunglasses, although the resemblance ended there. The one on the left was thin with an olive complexion and a full head of black hair. The one on the right was tubby and pale with a struggling blond comb-over.
“Hi,” Chris said simply.
“Dr. Christopher Lin,” the officer began, “I’m Major Martinez.�
� He extended a hand.
Chris took it and gave it a firm shake. “You’re the first person here who’s actually shaken my hand, Major,” he said.
Martinez ignored the remark. “We’ll fill you in on some of what’s been going on. Unfortunately, however, I am no longer in command, so what ultimately ends up happening is out of my hands. The Boss has spoken.” He paused and turned to the two other men. First left, then right. “This is Special Agent Garcia and Special Agent Davis.”
The two agents nodded. Chris looked at them evenly and waited.
The major took a deep breath. “Kemp’s whole operation was off the books. That means it was illegal and not ordered by me.”
“Are you sure about that?” Agent Garcia quipped, smirking.
Martinez pretended he didn’t hear. “Lieutenant Kemp was one of the finest officers who’s ever served under me, but she did have a problem with acting outside of her orders when she thought she could get something done. Things have been so chaotic here that I haven’t been able to oversee every single detail and action.”
“Now that we can believe,” Agent Davis intoned and pretended not to smirk.
“In any event,” Martinez went on, “you brought back the files, yes, but she’s embarrassed the whole project. She got everyone killed, except you and hopefully, Wallace. Herself, Diaz, Miller, Connolly, Gronski, Steadmann, Margheriti, even Chad, for God’s sake. The point being, it’s a real fuck-up.”
Chris looked at the floor for a moment. His insides tightened. Again, there was that ambivalence about Kemp, whom he both hated and admired.
“Nobody blames you,” the man continued. “But if you want to come through this disaster you need to tell these two gentlemen what they want to know.” He gave Chris a square, hard look, turned and left, and closed the door behind him.
“All right, then,” Garcia said in a radio-announcer voice and with a theatrical flourish of his hand.
“Yes,” Davis said, in a totally flat monotone and didn’t move.
Chris decided to open the discussion on his own terms. “I’ll talk,” he said, “but only if you guys tell me what the hell has actually been going on here first. You heard what Martinez said. Kemp lied to him—and, for that matter, to me and everyone else. All I know is what I heard from her.”
The two agents exchanged a glance.
“Well, first of all,” Garcia began, “everyone has been lied to about everything. Now, you’re probably thinking, ‘Oh look, it’s the sleazy feds in black sunglasses come to make everything all mysterious and governmenty.’ But in fact, we’re here to clear things up and restore some order. Bring back common sense, impose a few rules, shed a little light on the proceedings—”
“A lot of shady stuff has gone on,” Davis added. “Criminal activity, sloppiness, waste, and incompetence. Too little oversight. But not anymore. We’re in charge now.” Hearing him speak was like watching a robot in a cheesy old sci-fi movie.
“See, first of all,” Garcia picked up, sounding more like a frat boy speaking to a new recruit right before a hazing, “we’re not even in Tunisia right now. They were bullshitting you right from the start.”
“What?” Chris burst out. He didn’t think anything would have surprised him by now, but that did it.
“The Zoo lies on the border between Algeria and Niger,” Davis stated. “Hundreds of miles beyond where you’d been led to believe.”
Chris blinked. The helicopter ride south from Tunis had seemed awfully damn long, and they had needed to stop and refuel.
“Oh, and this whole operation?” Garcia continued. “It isn’t even solely an American enterprise. The Brits, Chinese, and Russians were also involved from day one. Now everyone is starting to get in on the action. Big-ass global kegger way out here in the desert, my man.”
“I guess that’s part of why you’re here, then,” Chris said, almost equally shocked by this second revelation. “To ensure the U.S. stays on top of things.”
The agents exchanged glances again. “You’re a smart man, Dr. Lin,” said Davis. “An expert. The closest thing we have to an expert on the Zoo, certainly. The DoD has a new agency that’s running the show and could use some expert testimony.”
“And I bet you’d like to take a leak after all that coffee you drank,” Garcia surmised.
Clever son of a bitch.
“You can use the bathroom, Doctor, when we know as much as you know about the Zoo and what happened in there.”
Chris sighed. “All right.” He told them everything, starting with the phone call he’d gotten back home in Charlotte and ending with his most recent cup of coffee.
The agents remained mostly silent during his account. They would nod occasionally or ask for clarification here and there, but otherwise, they let him speak. When it was over, they thanked him and finally let him out of the room. He immediately went to the bathroom.
After taking a powerful leak that seemed to go on for a full minute, he washed his hands and splashed water on his face. He looked at himself in the mirror as he had before the mission began and realized he looked as different as he felt. It was impossible to say exactly how, but it was definitely there.
He looked more like a hero, he supposed. But mostly, he kept thinking about what had happened to everyone but him. All dead, except Wallace, who would probably make it but would never regain the full use of his once-impressive body.
So much loss.
Chris wandered down the white halls with their lights and bustling personnel and found himself outside, breathing the fresh clear air of freedom. Dawn was breaking. He looked toward the horizon with his hands in his pockets.
The mission had succeeded. For all that they’d lost, they’d done it in the end. They hadn’t brought back a goop plant, but Chris had delivered the intel. Others could do the rest. There was a whole team of scientists there. He had completed his task although they’d probably still want him to type up a whole report repeating everything he’d just told the agents, for record-keeping. It was over. He’d survived. His parents would like to know as much.
Agent Garcia came up from behind and stood beside him.
“So then,” he began. Now that he and Davis had gotten what they wanted, his demeanor was softer and more genial. “You performed well out there, it seems. The Zoo wasn’t quite able to kill you, and you brought back a lot of useful info. There’s a lot more to be done here.”
Chris didn’t respond. He had a notion of what Garcia was about to say.
And he did. “So, are you looking for more work, Dr. Lin?”
He sighed and looked past the Wall toward the arid and lifeless expanse of the Sahara Desert. It was spreading, he knew. Climate change and human overdevelopment had accelerated the process of desertification all over the planet.
Then he looked at the Zoo. It was the complete opposite of lifeless, but it could kill as effectively as the wasteland could, probably more so. And it was spreading, too. It held so much potential, but it could become a fiasco for all of Earth if not properly stewarded by humankind.
His gaze drifted to the bustle of the camp which never fully slept and became even busier and more chaotic now that the sun was about to rise. His family would want to know that he was okay, and his colleagues back in Charlotte and DC would need to be informed. He thought of Kemp’s last words about sacrifice.
“Where do I sign up?”
Epilogue
She lay there, starting to feel at peace even though every part of her was in pain. That was good. It meant it would be over soon. She knew it. A breath—likely one of the very last of her life—rattled out of her shattered chest.
The locusts had essentially simply trampled her. The ones at the front were in too much of a hurry to pause to attack, and the ones behind were packed into so tight a column that they hadn’t needed to do much to kill her.
And kill her they had. Not right away perhaps, but she was a military doctor. She knew mortal injury when she saw it. Or felt it, in this case.
She estimated that at least thirty bones were broken and one of her lungs had collapsing and slowly filled with blood. She’d also probably suffered a severe intestinal hernia, which even now might put her into the early stages of septic shock. For a while, she’d lain there in helpless agony. But not much longer.
Oddly enough, none of the blue goop that had spilled and scattered from the dozens of flowers she’d uprooted or trampled seemed to have harmed her. This place hadn’t ceased to amaze her. She simply hoped they’d finally be able to wring something good out of it.
And they probably would. Even if Lin and Wallace hadn’t made it, someone else would complete the mission sooner or later. And she’d gone out in a blaze of glory. Real hero shit. She couldn’t move her face much, but she tried to smile as best she could. One way or another, her life would prove meaningful.
Something large approached through the forest. Night had fallen. The Zoo was mostly dark, though a narrow ray of starshine penetrated the canopy somewhere overhead and cast faint illumination on the edge of the grove to her right. That was the direction it came from. She’d have the privilege of seeing the thing—probably another of those disgusting rat-like creatures—as it arrived to finish her off.
But as it pushed its way through the curtain of greenery, moving smoothly for all its size, she saw it was something else entirely. The parts of her body she could still control tensed up.
The thing was far larger than the rat-beast had been. It was probably three times the size of a man. And where the other beast had been crude and ugly, this one was sleek, almost feline. There was a smooth aerodynamism to the design of its great bristle-haired head and incredible power in its massive paws. Its eyes had vertical slit-pupils, like a cat’s, although there was a cold, glossy flatness to them unlike any mammal’s. They almost reminded her of a—
It opened its jaws. If she could have cried out, she would have, because the impression the eyes had given her was now doubly reinforced.
