Animal Kingdom

by Iain Rob Wright

  More cheers erupted and the men began to bring their mounts together, ready to set off in formation. Clive made his own way to the front of the pack, looking down the hill and over the fields. A gentle haze of airborne moisture seemed to hang several inches above the ground.

  Clive held his crop above his head and thrust it forward. “Let the hunt commence.”

  Instead of galloping forward, he found himself flying backwards. The horse reared up and bucked Clive from the saddle. He hit the unforgiving mud behind him and let out a pained yell.

  The bodies of his fellow huntsmen hit the ground all around him as their own respective horses reared up in the same way that Clive’s had.

  “What the hell is going on?” he demanded to no one in particular.

  Clive watched in shock as one of his fellow huntsmen was kicked and trod on by his horse, a deep, bloody dent misshaping his skull as mighty hooves connected with skullbone over and over again. The gentlemen screamed all around him as each of the horses attacked them.

  Clive managed to roll out of the way, just in time, as Petronella kicked out at him. He got to his feet as quickly as he could, panicked beyond anything he had ever felt before. Heading downhill, he managed to pick up a great deal of speed, but he knew that it would be nowhere near enough if the horses gave chase. But such a thing was unconceivable anyway. The horses would not attack premeditatedly, only out of fear. That is what must have happened, Clive considered as he hurtled down the hill. The horses were just startled into some sort of mania. A tragic turn of events, for sure, but explainable in a logical way.

  Clive reached the bottom of the hill and looked back behind him. Thankfully, the horses had not pursued him, still trampling over the bodies at the top of the hill. The beagles were fleeing the scene though, same as he was, heading down the hill as a closely-knit pack.

  Clive waited for them to catch up, regaining the breath that his body needed in the meantime. The dogs quickly barrelled into him, knocking him onto his back.

  “Whoa there, fellas. I’m scared too.”

  Clive began to stroke the dogs, hoping to calm them down, but as he did so, they continued to pile onto him, in danger of smothering him.

  “Hey, get off me!”

  Clive felt a pair of slick jaws close around his hand. One of the dogs wished to play.

  The jaws clamped shut and Clive screamed. The force increased quickly, until he felt the fragile bones begin to snap. Before Clive had any chance to scream louder, another pair of jaws seized his throat, cutting off any sounds he was yet to make.

  He was forced to lay there, in choked silence, while a dozen of the finest hunting dogs in all of England ripped him apart piece by piece. For the first time in his life, Clive Middlesex knew how the fox felt.

  HOME

  Jane had been watching the news reports for the last twenty minutes. The images shown seemed more like scenes from a horror movie than real life. Animals were attacking, people were being killed all over the country and beyond. Jane could not believe such things at first—obviously a hoax—but then she saw the video footage and could no longer dispute it. The last thing she witnessed, before the horror became too much for her to bear any longer, was from a supermarket CCTV camera. The grainy pictures showed a blind man with his guide dog walking down the aisles. Seconds later, the dog was ripping the helpless man to shreds—then moving on to other terrified shoppers. Something was very wrong with the world and that terrified Jane. Not for herself, but for her son.

  Jane had called Danny’s father, Joe, a dozen times already, but had hit an answering-message-brick-wall every time. She didn’t want to accept it, but she knew that the stupid Luddite of a man had not taken his phone out with him—he never did—despite her constant chastisement.

  Joe hadn’t been around for a while, trying to get his life in order, and Danny had been so excited when his dad had unexpectedly offered to have him for the weekend—Jane was too, if she was honest about it. Now though, she wished more than anything that her ex-husband had stayed the hell away. Because of him, her precious child had gone to visit the zoo on the day when animals had gone completely crazy. Because of him, her son was certainly dead.

  A tear fell down Jane’s left cheek as that realisation finally burrowed its way into her brain. Danny and the man she’d once loved—still loved—were gone forever. The government had informed the news journalists that a state of emergency was in effect and that all residents of the UK should stay securely in their homes. Avoid animals at all costs.

  But by heeding that advice, Jane was alone, isolated. She had not spoken to anyone since the events started and knew nothing of whether or not her friends and other family were safe—maybe she did not even care. She was safe here at home, but her son was certainly not.

  The lounge was full of photographs and she took the time to look at them now, picking up a wooden framed picture of her, Danny, and Joe at the beach, ice creams in hand. Happier times. A time before that big lump of a man had ruined it all. For a secretary, no less.

  She didn’t blame Joe…at least, not anymore. When he had first admitted what he had done, she had been livid, broken, distraught. She’d kicked him out of the house immediately and filed for divorce the next day. Lately, she wasn’t so sure that had been the right thing to do. It seemed drastic now.

  Jane tried to call Joe again, but faced the frustration of voicemail once more. She placed the phone down on a shelf in the living room and went into the kitchen. The main window in the room overlooked a large garden, surrounded by several towering elm trees. There was movement outside.

  In the garden, Jane watched as a small group of woodland creatures gathered: rats, squirrels, and foxes—even a badger. The animals were circling an injured magpie, biting and clawing at it cruelly. Obviously the birds were under the same threat as humanity—a target for all other species.

  Carefully, and quietly, Jane grabbed the twist-handle for the kitchen’s blinds and turned them shut, not wanting to find out what would happen if the animals saw her inside.

  She wondered how long this all would last. There were too many animals in the world for the army to kill them all, so perhaps the only hope was for everything to go back to normal. If this was just a temporary phenomenon, then how long would it take? And if it wasn’t temporary, how long did she have? The cupboards were only stocked for a few days—life and death survival not having been on her most recent shopping list.

  She wished she were not alone. She wished she had never pushed Joe away. He had been a weak man—a man like many others—but a good man, a caring man. Jane knew he would have been far too naïve to instigate things with his secretary and was probably just the victim of the woman’s predatory advances, but that still didn’t make his actions right. Joe had done a terrible thing, yet…as Jane thought about things lately, she became surer and surer that she could have forgiven him, and that they could have gotten through things as a family.

  But such musings were just the tortures of an isolated mind. Jane would do better to think of kinder things. Thoughts of her son and ex-husband would drive her to a maddening despair that she would never escape from.

  Through a slim gap in the blinds, Jane saw the animals finish with the magpie, leaving behind a tattered corpse of bones and feathers. They had been joined by more animals now, more foxes, and several rabbits. As one, they all sat and stared at the house. Jane knew that they were looking for her. Perhaps they had seen her before, tending the garden or washing the car. Whatever the reason, Jane could tell that her presence inside the house was not a secret to them. They would be coming for her.

  Jane was shocked to find herself smiling. The thought of being victim to a mass animal attack was comforting. The thought of being isolated in this empty house, waiting for death (or a rescue that might never come) was not. If Danny and Joe were gone, then she was ready to join them.

  The animals in the garden came closer, and Jane went out to meet them.

  BEHOLD, THE 
BEASTS OF WAR

  You can no more win a war than you can win an earthquake, someone once said, and Corporal Nick Robson thought about that now. In the last two days and nights, he had pumped magazine after magazine through his SA-80 assault rifle, expending countless rounds into a dozen different species. His entire life Nick had been an ardent dog lover but, by his calculations, he had murdered at least twenty of the four-legged friends in the last two days, ever since they started attacking with the unnatural malice of the demon-possessed.

  Nick just couldn’t comprehend what was happening. What experiment had gone so wrong in order to send the world’s population of animals into a killing frenzy? Some countries had been lost already, too light in armed forces to control the outbreak. The governments of Switzerland, Norway, Poland, and others had already ceased responding with the British Government and one could only now speculate as to their condition.

  The US and other allies were dealing with situations in their own territories and could offer no assistance to anyone else. The UK Government was fragmented and shaken and conflicting orders were coming through from separate branches all the time. Eventually, the ranking CO, Captain Bishop, of the Leicester operation had decided to exercise autonomy. Things had gone beyond taking thoughtless orders from anxious politicians in their bunkers. Only the men on the ground, fighting this war could make informed decisions, and that was why Bishop had taken charge.

  Nick fired a round as yet another cat approached from a nearby roof, trying to sneak behind the lines from above. The animals were smart, working together in ways that should have been impossible. They sent the rats in first, to distract and dis-order. Then, while the army’s ranks were busy, stamping and kicking at the rodents, they would send in packs of sprinting dogs to ravage the troops before they had a chance to retaliate. Nick had seen hundreds of his squad mates torn apart in agony—not to mention countless civilians.

  But, for now, things had settled down somewhat. The remaining forces were already wiser, more aware of their enemy’s capabilities. Barricades had been set up, and the civilians were now armed with various tools and other salvaged weapons that they could beat the rats with whenever they attacked. This left the soldiers and their small arms to concentrate on the bigger threats from the more dangerous animals. Things had been pretty quiet for the last few hours though—except for the cats. There had been lots of cats. Nick was starting to form an opinion about just what that meant.

  “You think they’ve had enough?” asked a private named Collins.

  Nick kept his eyes on the road ahead, but shrugged his shoulders in response to the question. “I doubt it. Probably just rethinking their approach.”

  “That can’t be it,” said Collins. “They’re just dumb animals.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Collins put down his rifle and took out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one with a disposable lighter and placed it into his mouth. Inhaling deeply, the man’s entire body appeared to relax under the nicotine rush. “Well, we can take ’em. Bunch of bloody pets and farm animals.”

  Nick looked through his SUSAT sight and spotted a lamb with a gore-soaked mouth. The small, fluffy animal was galloping towards them from a side road. Nick took aim and fired. The lamb flew back, half-exploded by the impact of the 5.56mm bullet.

  “Shit, man. Nice shot. Didn’t even see that one coming.”

  Nick said nothing, just stared at the road, waiting. There would be more to come. Perhaps there would forever be more to come. This was a nightmare that could very well be without end.

  The base in Leicester was one of only a few successes in this war. When the armed forces had first mobilised, they had intended to launch rescue operations in several dozen locations. Less than ten had managed to gain a permanent foothold and establish a rescue operation.

  There was currently a platoon of twenty out looking for survivors, while just fewer than eighty bodies remained behind to defend the outpost—less than half of those were trained soldiers. In a city of tens of thousands, a handful of souls were all that was left.

  Nick had joined the army to fight terror—to fight evil. Now he found himself fighting for existence—not just for himself but for the whole of humanity. This was the end of days, for sure. The result of some failed experiment or man-made disease had doomed the entire planet. The meek shall inherit the world. But who would have thought that the meek would be the animals, willing to be enslaved no longer?

  “You wanna play cards?” Collins asked, but Nick ignored the request. Too many of his comrades had died carelessly because they had not taken their enemy seriously. He would not do that—could not, in fact. Feckless soldiers like Collins would get people killed. Nick would not allow any blood to be on his own hands.

  He took aim and dropped another cat. They would attack again soon, Nick felt it. The cats were just the eyes in the sky, sent to gather information, and to identify the base’s weak spots. Nick hoped there weren’t any. But the animals had gotten smart. They would find a way in, one way or another.

  With careful aim, he dropped another cat.

  SANCTUARY

  Caroline was bleeding. From where, she could no longer tell. Her arm ached from a dog bite and she was pretty sure that some of the tender bones of her wrist had broken. There was also agony in her legs from a dozen different rat attacks, where the dirty rodents had drawn blood with their malicious fangs. Yet, somehow, she was still standing.

  Walking down the middle of the road, Caroline felt woozy enough to lie down and sleep, but she could not. Her blood would entice any animals nearby and she was no doubt being tracked as it was. If only she could take a car, she would feel much safer, but that was no longer an option. Crumpled vehicles littered the streets and made driving impossible. Walking was the only mode of transportation left, but one almost certain to lead to death.

  There had been a group of more than thirty when Caroline had started her journey, over a week ago, for an army base in Leicester. They had hope of rescue and thoughts that there would be somewhere secure to wait this whole thing out. For every member of that group, except her, all hope had come to nothing.

  Yet, she still moved on, stepping over the corpses of both animals and human beings—from guinea pigs to dogs, from children to the elderly. The Earth was now a warzone.

  The base must be near—God how she prayed for it to be near. Caroline’s legs would not carry her much further, but she had passed through the outskirts of the city of Leicester some time ago. She must be getting closer.

  Up ahead was a mass of more bodies, only this one contained solely animals. Perhaps that explained the lack of curs, tabbies, does, badgers, and cows on this stretch of road—someone had killed them all or scared them all away. Someone like a group of soldiers.

  Caroline did what she could to go faster, limping along on two bad legs, swinging around her useless left arm. She imagined she looked just like a zombie from one of those hokey old movies. The thought almost made her laugh, but that, most likely, would have just caused more pain.

  She reached the pile of dead animals and examined them in detail. Although it was mostly a bloody mess, Caroline could see dozens of apple-sized wounds—bullet holes from high-powered weapons.

  Caroline’s hopes lifted as she became certain that sanctuary was within reach. The area had been cleared of threats by an organised force.

  Caroline broke into a staggering run, heading down the road without knowing for sure where she would end up. For the first time in a week, she felt safe. She was going to live.

  She rounded a bend in the road and found herself faced with a wonderful sight. At the end of the street was a barricade made from parked vehicles and bits of recovered masonry. It looked just like the entrance to an army base would in these circumstances.

  Excited, Caroline headed for the barricade, but, after only a few steps, she tripped. Looking down, she examined the road’s surface for the cause. There was a child’s backpack lying near her feet. It was tat
tered and worn, with a colourful picture of that man from the television. A wrestler, Caroline thought, called the Undertaker.

  Caroline did not want to think why the item was here—it seemed pretty obvious—so she ignored it and continued onwards. The barricade wasn’t far ahead.

  She took more steps, her legs numbing with the constant onslaught of pain. She was almost there now though, only several metres away.

  Caroline cried out as she reached the barrier, throwing herself against the bonnet of a burned-out Escort. “Hello! I need help.”

  There was no reply, only silence. A bitter taste of dread filled her mouth along with saliva. The feeling compelled Caroline to pull herself up from the car bonnet and navigate the barricade. There was a gap between two slabs of concrete and she headed for it.

  When she got there, Caroline noticed the blood that stained the edges of the wall. She followed the crimsons spatters downwards, towards the floor, until she saw the body of a man too young to die.

  The name tag on his shirt read ROBSON, but did not have his first name. Caroline mourned his loss as much as she mourned her own. The base was empty of living souls and now any hope she had was gone. The bodies of dead soldiers and mutilated civilians covered the outpost, not one left alive. The amount of deceased animals made it clear that a battle had been fought here—and lost. By the end, the rescuers had needed rescuing themselves.

  Caroline slumped back against the concrete slabs and slid down to the floor. It was all over for her. Even if there was someplace else safe to go, she would not be able to make it there. Her wounds had finally gotten the better of her, not of her body, but of her exhausted mind. Caroline was ready to die.