Deadfall: A Post-Humans Story

by Bassett, Thurston

  They weren’t ideal weapons, but they were heavy and sharp. The best she could do at short notice.

  “What are you doing?” The voice was from the sobbing warden who was still hiding under the workbenches.

  “You can’t go out there, they have guns.”

  Cynthia ignored him and strained her ears against the steel door.

  Nothing.

  Either the door was too thick, or all the commotion was happening further away.

  She unlocked the door and turned the handle.

  The man under the workbench started breathing heavily with panic. “Do…don’t do it. P-please!”

  “You just get your arse out of there so you can lock it behind me.”

  Cynthia gave the door a nudge with her shoulder and peered out into the bright sunlight that formed dappled patterns across the lawn under the trees.

  The coast was clear so far. She could just see the gate building through the trees.

  “No, no, no…” The warden sobbed as she pushed through the door and closed it behind her.

  She made a break for it.

  The gate way wasn’t far, maybe four hundred metres.

  There was noise coming from everywhere and rustling in the leafy gardens that bordered the lawn in front of her.

  She was ready, but she had to hope that whoever was coming wasn’t carrying a gun.

  The garden went still and she couldn’t hear footsteps.

  After and moment of waiting she began to run towards the gate again, but she was stopped by a barking cry.

  It didn’t sound very human.

  Something was pushing its way through the large broad-leafed plants to her left.

  Not a person, she thought.

  It pushed its way out of the mess of leaves and laid back its ears as it stared at her.

  It was the leopard.

  Like the lions, the leopard looked far larger in person. It must have been five or six feet long. It was beautiful, yet threatening. Its silky spotted coat seemed surreal against the dark green leaves of the garden and the manicured grass. Its piercing green-grey eyes seemed to be calculating.

  Cynthia could hear was the thumping of her heartbeat in her ears. The silence of everything else was deafening and she felt transfixed by the big cats gaze.

  Suddenly it turned away and trotted along the lawn to find another garden to hide itself.

  She was able to breath again.

  Cynthia closed her eyes, to try and refocus herself.

  “Oh no…” Cynthia muttered and looked back in the direction the leopard had disappeared.

  She realized what was happening. They had released some of the animals to increase the confusion in the zoo grounds. The police would be out of their depth and the gangsters would disappear and leave the zoo looking like a deadly safari park. It would take a long time to repair the damage.

  She began running again towards the gate. Cynthia needed to be free of this place and she needed to get help. She also needed to find Tony.

  Crack, crack.

  Two more gunshots echoed through the park. The gangsters were still here, so the people must still be trapped inside.

  Crack.

  Closer this time. She almost felt it ripping through the air nearby.

  Crack.

  The next one met its mark, the top of Cynthia’s arm, near the shoulder. She was caught by surprise and stumbled face first in the soft grass.

  Her head hit the ground with a dull thump and a fiery sting began to erupt in her arm and shoulder.

  She could hear the shooter approaching behind her, jogging across the lawn. She listened to the familiar brushing thump that people make when they run through grass.

  Her eyes were squeezed shut, but she readied herself to retaliate.

  The footfalls were finally close enough.

  She launched herself up from her prone position and threw one of the cleavers with all the force she could muster.

  It wasn’t like in the movies, where the knife stabs into the body and the attacker collapses with the handle hanging out, it was far more awkward and sickening.

  The cleaver hit somewhere between the man’s shoulder and right arm with a dull thump and dropped into the grass. The gangster’s eyes grew wide and he dropped the black pistol he had been carrying and stared at the spot where the cleaver had hit him.

  Cynthia got to her feet and tried to ignore the sting in her upper arm, where the bullet had passed through. She still had the second cleaver to use.

  The gangster’s face had grown pale and he was taking small steps backward.

  That was when Cynthia noticed the blood spreading under his dark t-shirt. The man kept glancing in her direction and at the heavy cleaver, which now lay in the grass.

  In his eyes she could see a battle of loyalty and self-preservation. He wanted to run and stop the bleeding, but he would have been ordered to ignore a flesh wound like this. The trouble is that you don’t really know how you will react to an injury until you receive it.

  Cynthia nodded towards a toilet block that was on the other side of the lawn. It was nearly eighty metres away, but the man would make it.

  “Go,” she said to him, “There’s a first aid kit in there.”

  The gangsters face grew sour and his eyes watered, but he nodded vigorously before running across the lawn, toward it.

  Watching the man stumble clumsily away, she realized that she had her own run to make.

  She gripped her wounded arm and began to run again, across the lawn toward the big brick building that was the closest exit.

  The building was surrounded by a mob of desperate people trying to escape. Cynthia slowed to a walk and stopped at the back of the crowd.

  “Oh, perfect.” She squeezed her sore arm and tried to hide the blood. She had dropped the other meat cleaver into the grass further back so that the zoo goers didn’t think she was one of the assailants.

  The people milled about, crying and trying to shove the gates open. It looked as if the gangsters had locked up the gates to keep her inside and to keep the police at bay for a while.

  She looked everywhere for an easy way out.

  The gift shop windows were broken and some people were sheltering inside. Cynthia decided that there must be someone here working for Ace of Clubs. They would be scanning the crowd, looking out for her.

  She pushed through the crush of people looking for someone who was searching the crowd.

  She couldn’t see anyone suspicious.

  The volume of the panicked crowd was escalating, especially the wails and sobs of frightened children.

  The people were pressing tightly together and children were trying to work their way deeper into the crowd.

  Looking back, Cynthia noticed a trio of baboons was working their way slowly closer. They were crossing the lawn, then stopping to watch and then they would move a little closer.

  They were the source of the growing panic.

  The baboons were still nearly one hundred metres away, but they were causing the frightened people respond like musk oxen: the adults moving to the outside while the children were herded into the protected centre.

  A man reached out and tried to grab Cynthia by the arm and she recoiled.

  “C’mon, get in here, where it is safe.”

  “I’ll take my chances thanks.” She took a step back, isolating herself from the group.

  A young man in a baseball cap was examining her. His narrow eyes looked her up and down and then pulled a mobile phone from his pocket and began talking.

  Him, Cynthia thought, he is the one watching this gate and I’m seen.

  There was nowhere to run.

  The young man began to push his way closer to her, so she prepared to defend herself.

  Suddenly there was a cold feeling on her neck.

  When she reached back, her hand was grabbed second man standing just behind her.

  She had enough time to turn and see him smiling holding a syringe.

&n
bsp; She focused her deadly ability, but realized that the man’s hand was gloved.

  “Oh, shit. No, no…” She tried to step back, but found that her body was tingling, not responding as quickly as it usually did.

  She had been drugged.

  “Afraid so. Nice to meet you, Deadfall.”

  Cynthia dropped to her knees.

  The crowd was confused by the odd occurrence, the baboons were forgotten and they watched the two men with wide eyes, holding their children tightly.

  Cynthia tried to speak, but only a groan escaped her lips.

  It was no use; she couldn’t fight the effects of the drug. She finally fell onto her back and gazed up at the bright blue sky.

  She could see the leaves high above.

  Two leering faces swooped down toward her.

  Ace of Clubs had caused absolute chaos, just to find her was. It felt like he had a bone to pick with her rather than Bronson Carlyle.

  Chapter 22

  “Holy shit.”

  Matt stood beside the train stop. It was the least conspicuous place to stand and assess the situation in front of him.

  “Holy shit.”

  A bald man pushing a pram came to stand close by, to catch the train. He knelt down and whispered to the toddler that was looking about with wide eyes.

  “Fucking ridiculous,” the man muttered shaking his head.

  “What’s going on over there?” Matt asked him, gesturing to the zoo gates that were surrounded by police cars and other emergency services. Paramedics were ushering some people about with blankets over their shoulders.

  The man glanced up at him and stood with his hands on his hips. “Anarchy, mate, bloody anarchy. Terrorists, I recon. Totally out of control. We were lucky to get out of there.”

  “You were inside?”

  The man nodded vigorously. “Bloody oath. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

  Matt watched the emergency crews running about comforting victims. “Was there a shoot out, a bomb threat?”

  The man shook his head. “There was shooting. People were running around crazy. Dunno who was shot. Then some asshole started letting animals out.”

  “Letting animals out of their cages?”

  The man shook his head. “Bloody crazy. Could be activists, maybe.”

  “Maybe.”

  There was no way to get any closer to try and find Cynthia.

  It was absolute chaos everywhere around the fence-line, as far as Matt could see. If Cynthia got out of there, on her own, it would have been a miracle. There were so many police, rangers, paramedics and even a military presence. Whatever happened here was serious and possibly on the same scale as the situation they had experienced in Chinatown.

  Matt shook his head.

  It had to be Ace of Clubs. There was surely no one else with the manpower or the balls to do what he has down, especially twice in one day.

  The train began to clatter and groan down the track toward him.

  He checked his watch it said 3:18. It was a little early.

  “I can’t wait to get out of here. Won’t be goin’ to any bloody zoo for a while, I’ll tell you!” the man pushed the pram closer to the edge of the platform. “When you see a real bear, with no fences. Never been so scared in my life…”

  Matt watched the man climb onto the train, along with dozens of others that were caught in the zoo.

  As the crowd of terrified zoo goers began to disappear, the media began to arrive. There were new cars and vans filling the car park all the time: journalists, newscasters and photographers. There were also hundreds of people arriving to collect family and friends who had been patrons of the zoo during the incident.

  Matt wandered from the train platform, across the road, to the main car park.

  He leaned on the old Honda and rubbed at his cheeks.

  The situation was out of his control. He couldn’t get in there with the police and call out Cynthia’s name. For all he knew, she could have been in hospitalized with an injury, unless Ace of Clubs has her.

  He pulled out his phone and called Cynthia again.

  A voice told him the phone was not connected.

  Not good.

  “Matt Claire?” a female voice came from somewhere behind him.

  He looked around at the faces in the car park, but no one was looking in his direction.

  Matt slid his hand under his left arm and undid the clip on his gun holster.

  “Mr Claire,” the voice repeated. A tap followed it on his car window from the inside.

  A girl’s face met his, from behind the glass.

  She’s in my car…

  He climbed into the driver seat and glanced at the unfamiliar young woman sitting in the passenger seat. Her face immediately reminded him of Ryan Chen. “Kara?”

  The girl nodded. “We need to leave.”

  Matt jumped into the car and started the engine. “You know where Cynthia is, don’t you?”

  Kara shrugged. “I think I know a good place to look.”

  She gave Matt some directions and he took them out of the car park, away from the commotion around the zoo.

  Kara told Matt about the shed full of horrors she had seen the night before and her relationship to Ace of Clubs.

  “So, you think that he wants Cynthia for this collection of Post-Human trophies?”

  Kara held her palms face up. “I do not know, but it is possible.”

  “But you said that she was your target today…” Matt glanced over at her.

  Kara stared out the window.

  “Are you okay?”

  She sighed and closed her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  “Are you sure Cynthia will be at this place, this museum?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  They drove in silence.

  Chapter 23

  Cynthia’s eyes fluttered open and she tried to focus in the dim light.

  There was a greenish hue to the light, and the glow created haunting silhouettes that loomed out of the dark.

  There was an odd scent in the air, a smell she couldn’t identify. It was definitely chemical.

  Matt would be able to identify it.

  There were footsteps in the shadows, soft feet treading on a tiled floor. She couldn’t turn to see who it was, so she tried to wriggle around. She realized she was standing vertically against some kind of table and her body wouldn’t move.

  She tried to blink her eyes into focus so that she could set what was holding her arm.

  Something dark, some sort of cuff, or strap.

  Cynthia began to panic. It was growing obvious in her groggy mind, that she was being held captive.

  “Shhh…”

  A voice from somewhere behind her.

  “Who’s there? What are you doing? Let me go, or I swear I…”

  “Shut up,” the voice hissed, “I am getting you out of here.”

  “Who are you?”

  “It is me. We met today at the zoo.” Cynthia’s clouded memory start to recall the accent.

  “Kara?”

  The young woman came to stand in front of her. “I found this place a few days ago, when I was tailing my boyfriend.” She gestured to the dark chamber around them.

  Kara began to undo the straps on Cynthia’s left arm. “Can you stand?”

  Cynthia looked down at her feet that were also strapped in. “I…don’t know.”

  “I thought you might say that.” She began to unbuckle her right arm and tilted the vertical table down so Cynthia was laying on an angle. “I have been here for five minutes or so. You would not have been able to move if I had woken you before the drugs had worn off.”

  “What?”

  “Your body needed to restart itself properly. And I am not strong enough to get you out of that window. I needed you awake and mobile.”

  “Where are we and why are you here?” Cynthia flexed her weak fingers trying to get the strength back in her hand.

  “Ace of
Clubs is…was my boyfriend. He always had an agenda and that made me suspicious. So one night I followed some of his men. They came here and then they left.” She began unclipping the strap securing her ankles. “When they were gone I came in up there.” She gestured to a covered window-like panel.

  “What is this place?” Cynthia asked, as she leaned against the table and stretched her legs.

  She noticed that her long jacket was missing, she only had her shirt and pants, even her shoes were gone. The jacket had her mobile phone and her lock picking kit; two things she liked to keep close at all times.

  “I do not know what Ace calls it, but it is a horrible place; a museum or a mausoleum. It is a tribute to the conquests of a black, evil heart. Look for yourself.”

  Cynthia stumbled forward and leaned on a glass case containing deformed human bones. They were thick and ridged, like they were from a person who was built like a rhinoceros.

  She looked up at a wall of glass tanks, all filled with a greenish fluid. The lights behind it were the cause of the green glow that lit the chamber. In each of the tanks were human body parts.

  Cynthia stumbled closer and peered through the glass; hands, feet and even severed heads.

  Cynthia’s eyes grew wide. She was no stranger to violence, but this was an image of horror.

  “Are these real?” She muttered.

  “As far as I can tell. This is not the collection of a sane man, Deadfall. He is a monster.”

  Cynthia could tell that some of these body parts were from Post-Humans. There was a head of a woman sitting in the tank of fluid, a look of permanent fear etched on her face. Her irises were enormous and the sockets that held the eyes were wider than those of a regular human.

  At the base of the tank there was a white label and the name ‘Maria’.

  In another tank there was a hand with fingers separated by pins. Between each finger was skin webbing, like the hand of a frog. There were more hands and feet, as well as other parts of bodies that looked as though they had been cut from animals. In other cases and cabinets there were dried skins and scalps and different items made from remains.

  Cynthia examined an old tribal knife, that looked to be made of bone. The bone she assumed was from a Post-Human like the other macabre objects around her. The handle was the base of a femur and the blade was made from the bone being polished into a creamy glistening dagger-like shape. The bone looked like glass or polished stone. There were other tribal pieces made from the remains of Post-Humans too, telling her that this grotesque collection predated the tastes of this obviously twisted man, Ace of Clubs.