No more mercy.
No more wasted words.
Let them come.
Kodiak ran his hands over the cool iron of his Warhammer.
He watched.
He waited.
He remembered….
1
September
Mr. Baynard
Robert Baynard slipped out from under the covers as his alarm clock buzzed its good morning serenade, enjoying the feel of the cool air on his skin. After silencing the ride of the Valkyries, he slid from the bed, wasting no time as he smoothed the sheets and made it with military precision. He transitioned into his morning stretching routine. His years as a United States Navy sailor may have been long over, but he still carried the habits ingrained in him from twenty years of service to his country.
Robert was not a large man at only five feet seven inches and one hundred thirty-three pounds, his ideal perfect weight for his height. He prided himself on his physical conditioning and strict regimen. Not much he could do about his thinning hairline, but his waistline was easily kept in check.
Adequately stretched he dropped to the floor and pressed out his morning routine of pushups and sit-ups, noting with some satisfaction that he finished a full seven seconds ahead of his usual time. Stepping into the bathroom he turned on the hot water then headed for the kitchen. It would be heated to precisely his preferred showering temperature by the time he started the coffeemaker, grabbed the morning paper from the front porch and returned.
Exactly seven minutes and forty-five seconds later, Robert exited the shower as the last drops of coffee made it from the machine into the pot. He didn’t have to check; he knew it with certainty.
Even though it was a Saturday, he dressed in his usual work attire of starched khakis, sensible brown shoes, button down Oxford and one of his many animal themed ties. Today’s was a bit more festive than usual; it featured a collage of Macaw parrots. Returning to the kitchen he poured his first cup of coffee: black, no sugar. He set the skillet on the stove top and turned it to the medium heat setting and headed for the fridge. Robert knew that by the time he had all his normal breakfast items laid out in neat rows, his cup of coffee would be just the right temperature to drink and the skillet would be just the right temperature for cooking. Robert loved consistent, methodical orderliness in his life and had his morning routine mapped out to the second.
Today’s breakfast, like every other morning, consisted of four strips of crispy bacon, two lightly buttered pieces of wheat toast and two eggs over easy, fuel for his day of molding young minds.
He broke from his routine and read the labeling on the package as he opened it. It was a different brand than he usually bought. There had been a meat shortage for weeks and the cause had never been made clear. Something about a labor dispute and company mergers but the new bacon looked the same as the old bacon. No extra fat or unevenly sliced pieces. He laid the strips of thick cut in the skillet and took his first sip of coffee. Perfect, he thought as he loaded the toaster with two slices of whole wheat bread. As soon as he lifted the bacon from the skillet to cool and drain away the excess grease after exactly six minutes, flipped only once, he would depress the plunger on the toaster and crack two eggs into the bacon grease. The toast would pop out as he scooped up his over easy eggs and breakfast would be exactly on schedule.
Minutes later, Robert sat down to eat and mentally went over his day as he browsed the headlines in the morning paper. A few riots in the big cities, he noted. Flu-like virus was sweeping the country causing psychotic behavior in people. He would be sure to discuss this with his students. Viruses were always making interspecies jumps, and this could be another example.
He was a high school biology teacher in addition to leading an extracurricular zoology program. The program was designed for students who were interested in careers in veterinary medicine, game and fish law enforcement, or animal biology. The group discussed topics such as how loss of habitat and the encroachment of man were forcing both man and beast to adapt to a rapidly changing world.
One of his students, Harper, had nicknamed him Mr. Barnyard, playing on his last name. At first it had annoyed him but he had grown to secretly like it, even though he’d never admit it to the kids. Today he was taking her and an assortment of the best and brightest of these students on a field trip to the Piedmont Animal Sanctuary to study some of the many animals housed there. Each student would be free to spend the day observing the animal species of their choosing and submit their findings to the group for discussion at their next meeting for an extra credit grade.
He remote started his car with the key fob and cleaned up his breakfast dishes, satisfied in the knowledge that his car’s engine would be at its optimum operating temperature when he slid behind the wheel.
As he left his house precisely on schedule, he marveled at his own efficiency. Robert was as predictable as the sunrise and a creature of habit that very rarely made changes to his routine.
“Although,” he thought as he drove toward the school to meet his favorite students, “That new bacon was delicious.”
2
Cody
The sun peeked over the tops of the tall maple trees rapidly bringing warmth to the early fall Saturday morning. Cody Wilkes was already working up a sweat despite the cooler temperatures as he finished scooping up the last shovel full of dung left behind by Millie, the black rhinoceros. She was a huge beast who generated equally huge piles of waste. Weighing in at nearly 1100 pounds but as gentle as a lamb, she was an old girl at thirty-five and blind in one eye. The part time job had its drawbacks, that was for sure, but he didn’t complain. It sure beat cutting grass or, God forbid, babysitting. His mom wasn’t a pushover like some other parents. If he asked her for fifty bucks to buy a new game, she’d make him do so much work around the house that it came out to about ten cents an hour. Nope. He’d rather hang out with the animals. Pay was way better, too. Cody was careful to keep her in his peripheral vision when he worked on her blind side. She wouldn’t intentionally hurt him but her limited vision made her hazardous to work around in the confines of the pen and having his foot stepped on would not be his preferred way to start the day. Her short tail swished back and forth to chase away the pesky flies constantly buzzing around her.
Millie was a popular attraction at the Park. Her gentle nature and willingness to tolerate the masses of children that visited every year made her a crowd favorite among the flocks of kids lining up to feed her carrot after carrot, her favorite treat. As soon as she heard the first car approaching, she would leave her pen and spend the rest of the day grazing the fence line along the walking path and waiting for a tasty handout from the tourists.
At almost 400 acres the Piedmont Animal Sanctuary sat up against the mighty Mississippi River on one side and the Minnesota border on another. It was located just a few miles outside of New Albin, Iowa, a small town with two claims to fame. It was the hometown of Milt Gantenbein of the Green Bay Packers and also the farthest northeastern town in Iowa.
Many of the residents in the park were retired circus animals needing a safe place to live out their golden years. A few, like the black panther, were animals that had been owned by people who didn’t realize the commitment it took to keep large exotic pets and found themselves unable to deal with them once they passed the cute and cuddly stage.
Despite its middle-of-nowhere location, it was considered one of the premiere care facilities for aging animals or ones that no other zoo would take. The gentler creatures like Millie, Bert the giraffe and Ziggy the ostrich had large areas to roam in the daytime and returned to their enclosures at dark. Others like the wolves, bears and the panther had handlers during visiting hours, so the guests could get up close and personal with the animals. Even though almost every animal in the park had been born in captivity and were used to being around humans, it never hurt to be cautious with the toothier species.
“Catch!” Kelly yelled as Cody looked up in time to snag the bottle
of water out of the air. She smiled at the sight of her fourteen-year-old son leaning on his shovel. Tall and handsome like his father, he was the center of her world. She missed Todd and wished he could see the man his son was becoming. Cody was still a small boy when his father died along with three other firemen when the roof collapsed in a warehouse blaze.
“Thanks Mom.” Cody said as he twisted off the bottle cap and took a deep swallow.
“Hon, when you’re done here, will you feed the hyenas? They are kenneled on the other side of Bert’s enclosure, the old cages where the lions used to be. Derek will be down shortly to sedate them and inject their microchips. Keys are in the golf cart.” Kelly said as her radio chirped to life.
“Sure Mom,” Cody sighed. He missed the old lion and didn’t care at all for the two newest additions to the park.
Kelly keyed the mike on her radio. “Go for Kelly.”
As the primary veterinarian at Piedmont she was constantly on the run. Today was shaping up to be even tougher because of the staff that had called in complaining of flu like symptoms. The capuchin monkeys were always getting loose and stuffing themselves on junk food or Bert was dealing with an upset stomach. The big giraffe loved to eat maple leaves but the heavy tannic acid in them played havoc with his digestive system. Bert was famous for his noxious gas. It always drew giggles from the children when he ripped a big loud stinky one while mom and dad were trying to get a picture of their kids with the long-legged critter.
“Kelly, this is Will, we’ve got a visitor complaining of fever and a headache up here by the snack bar.” the radio squawked.
“Copy, have Anna come, she’s with us all day today.” Kelly responded.
Anna Rimes was a part time volunteer at the park who worked as a paramedic with the fire department.
“Roger that,” Will answered back. “She’s in route, I called you because he appears to have a bite mark on his forearm, and I thought you’d want to take a look at it, see which of our residents decided to snack on the paying customers.”
“On my way,” said Kelly. “Cody don’t forget the hyenas; I’ll be back in a bit.”
She took off at a run, worried about the bite and wondering if it was going to be one of those days. None of the petting animals had ever bitten anyone before, she hoped it was just an overly friendly slobber from one of the goats. Life at Piedmont was never boring.
Tossing the shovel in the back with the rest of the buckets and tools, Cody chugged down the last of the water, gave Millie a pat on her enormous head and hopped on the golf cart. He drove over to the feed barn to grab some cuts of meat for the hyenas from the walk in cooler and some extra grub for his pal Otis. When it was loaded in buckets and stowed in the cart, he headed down to the enclosure near the river to find the bear.
Otis lay in the shade of a giant maple tree but lifted his head and chuffed as he watched Cody approach. The boy always meant a scratch in those itchy places and something tasty to eat was heading his way, so he pushed himself to his feet in anticipation.
Otis was a 1200-pound bear of questionable lineage that had performed in Las Vegas in his younger years to sellout crowds. Cody’s mom thought he was a Kodiak and Grizzly mix but whoever his parents had been, he’d taken after the bigger one. Otis was an attention lover of the highest order; he still did a few tricks for the crowds of kids to hear the applause. He was gentle enough for them to ride him around but it wasn’t allowed, of course. He’d never intentionally hurt anyone, but you couldn’t convince the insurance companies of that.
Cody grabbed one of the buckets of beef and stood looking eye to eye with the big bear. He reached up and rubbed Otis between the ears and got a satisfied groan of pleasure for his efforts. He pulled a large roast from the bucket and held it out for inspection. Otis gave it a big sniff and gently took it from the boy in his cavernous jaws. He turned and ambled back to his spot in the shade to enjoy his breakfast as Cody tidied up the enclosure. He shoveled what needed to be shoveled, cleaned out his drinking pool then reclined against the bear’s ribs as Otis lay sprawled out, gnawing happily on the bone. He scratched him idly behind the ears and smiled at the contented sounds he made. He was like a giant pussy cat.
“Enjoy buddy. I’ll see you later.” Cody said after a few minutes and stood, gave Otis a good back scratching and left the enclosure. He’d rather spend the day lying in the shade with Otis, but he didn’t want to keep Derek waiting. Cody plopped in the golf carts seat, pressed the pedal and headed towards the hyena kennel.
The two hyenas came to their feet and stared at him as he approached with the bucket of meat, mouths drooling and pacing back and forth in the pen. They were huge, hunchbacked and a mottled, tawny color. Their mouths were oversized, they seemed too big for their heads and it looked like they were smiling a devil smile when they barked their creepy laugh. Cody was wary of them. They looked mean and cunning and even had evil sounding names: Diablo and Demonio, Spanish for Devil and Demon. They’d only been on site for a couple of days and were nasty beasts. The pair had been seized by the DEA when they busted a gang affiliated with one of the Mexican drug cartels. With no other facility willing to take them, they had been transported to Piedmont. Rumor had it the gang’s leader had fed the two beasts a steady diet of people who crossed him. Kelly dismissed it with a laugh when Cody asked her about it. She said hyenas had gotten a bad rap ever since Disney vilified them.
Cody wasn’t so sure. He was uncomfortable with the way they stalked the bars and eyed him. Like he might be what’s for dinner. He didn’t bother trying to hand feed them, their meat got tossed in the dirt.
As he chunked the slabs through the bars of the pen, Derek rolled up on his cart and began unloading his gear. He started prepping his tranquilizer stick that would sedate the animals so he could check them over and insert the GPS locator microchips that all zoo animals were required to have.
“Cody my man,” Derek said with a smile. “Come to hold these bad boys still while I chip ‘em?”
“No way.” Cody said. “I’m not getting anywhere near those things. Who names their pets Devil and Demon anyway?”
Derek laughed, “Yeah, they aren’t exactly kid friendly names. We’d have to do something about that if we were going to integrate them into the park, but honestly, I think we’ll end up putting them down. We’ve been trying to place them in a facility that’s designed for truly wild animals, but no one wants them. Everyone has heard the stories and most of them are probably true. These two are just too vicious for a place like this. It’s a shame the way some people raise their animals, they really are magnificent creatures.”
Cody was usually troubled over talk of an animal being put to sleep, but in this case, he felt a sense of relief. They were battle scarred from where they’d been beaten and tossed into cages with fighting dogs. Animals born and bred into killing had a taste for blood and it couldn’t be tamed, no matter how nice you treated them. They would always be dangerous.
Derek jabbed each of the hyenas in turn with the tranquilizer stick and a minute later both were snoozing, heads on their paws.
“That will keep them out for about ten minutes or so,” Derek said as he prepared the smaller syringes that contained the GPS chips.
“So, buddy,” Derek said, “Since you’re the man of the Wilkes house I have a question for you. You know me and your Mom have been seeing each other for a while now. I was thinking about something a little more public and permanent if you catch my drift.”
Cody knew where this was headed. He’d caught the glimpses between Mom and Derek when they thought no one was looking and he was cool with it. He knew about their spot down by the river and their late nights at work. So, did everyone else, it was the worst kept secret in Piedmont.
Derek was a great guy, always quick with a joke or a laugh and he always treated Cody like a man and not a boy. He and Derek had shared a couple of beers a week ago down by the Mississippi as they waited for a catfish to take the bait drifting at the end
of their fishing lines. Mom would have flipped out if she knew, but Derek said it was a rite of passage and what Mom didn’t know wouldn’t get them hurt. He’d given Cody his old Zippo with the Coast Guard emblem engraved on it. A memento from his days of service when he was fresh out of high school. Cody carried it with him everywhere now.
“Go for it man. I know about you two, everyone does.” Cody said with a grin.
“Cool,” Derek said and put out his fist. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay with us going out to dinner and movies and stuff.”
Cody bumped it and a smiling Derek stepped toward the sleeping hyenas.
He unlatched the kennel door and slipped inside, knelt beside Diablo. Cody stayed outside with a hand on the gate, ready to close it the second the job was finished. He didn’t want to be anywhere near them. Derek used the battery powered clippers to shave the fur at the injection site and swabbed the skin with an alcohol pad. As he prepared to jab the sleeping hyena his radio squawked to life.
“Derek!” Kelly’s voice came over the radio. “We need you up here NOW at the gates! People are attacking each other, HURRY!” She yelled desperately.
She sounded like she was on the verge of hysteria. She sounded scared.
Derek keyed his mike. “I’m on the way!”
Cody jumped out of the way as he flew out of the kennel and slammed the self-latching door.
“Gotta go. We’ll finish this later. Can you gather my gear?” he said, as he jumped on his cart and hurried for the front gate.
Cody watched as Derek rode off then picked up the tranq sticks. He reached through the cage to get the clippers and the GPS syringes. No way was he going inside. He loaded them in his cart then hurried to see what was going on and if there was anything he could do to help. He’d never heard his mom sound like that, she was usually cool headed. Trouble in the park wasn’t unheard of, usually the result of some impatient tourist agitated with waiting in line or the constant flux of children flitting about like bees. It couldn’t be too bad, he thought. Probably a couple of overly excited guests in a shoving match over a snow cone or something. Maybe the radio just made her sound panicky.
The Feral Children [A Zombie Road Tale] Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 2
