The BIG Horror Pack 2

by Iain Rob Wright

“Not surprised. He’s what, twenty, maybe? That’s pretty young to be stuck in a situation like this. Losing Charlotte must be devastating. What can you do, though?”

  Anna sighed. “Nothing. We’re all lucky just to be alive. I suppose we should find the positive in that.”

  Mike held open the door to the staffroom for her. The pool table was now home to a modest collection of snack food and bottled drinks.

  “I’ve been checking around for rations,” Alan explained. “Found some odds and ends in people’s desks upstairs, but this is pretty much it. We’ve got the vending machines in here to go through as well, so we should be good for a day or two.”

  Shawcross entered the room carrying a fan heater. “I found this in one of the offices upstairs. I’m thinking it might get pretty cold during the night.”

  “Good idea,” Anna said, “but I figure it isn’t long before the power goes out. We all saw how bad things are on the news.”

  “Shit, I never thought of that,” Mike said. “How long do we have, you think?”

  “There’s a backup generator,” Shawcross said. “They built it to keep the heated exhibits functioning even during a power cut. I don’t know how much juice they keep in the batteries, but I think we’ll get at least a couple extra days once the grid fails.”

  Anna frowned. “How do you know about that? I didn’t think you had anything to do with the zoo.”

  “I was here when they installed it. It’s buried in the woods where guests can’t see it. Thing makes a terrible racket, but thankfully it’s only been put to use once before. It will come in handy, though if everywhere loses power.”

  “Or we’ll be lit up like a beacon,” Anna said. “The only place with power for miles.”

  “A beacon?” Shawcross queried.

  “Yes, a beacon. You don’t think they’ll be other people out there looking for safety. If we light up in the dark, then any survivors nearby will come running our way. I think our biggest asset right now is anonymity.”

  “I think so too,” Michelle said meekly.

  Shawcross shook his head. “I think the opposite. The news said there are still rescue operations taking place. Tomorrow we should light a signal fire to let people know we’re here. Smoke from all the way up here would be seen for miles. We have a better chance than anybody at being rescued.”

  “I think that would be totally dumb. We have something that everybody in the world will be looking for: a defensible position. The last thing we want to do is advertise what we have to a desperate population.”

  “She’s right,” Mike said. “What if we light a fire and a hundred people turn up on this hill? The food we have left would be gone in an hour. And what if some of them are bitten and don’t know what that means yet? We could be crawling with infected before the day is through.”

  Shawcross thought about things for a moment, then shook his head adamantly. “If we still had access to Ripley Hall, I might be inclined to lay low, but we’re all doomed if we try to stay here indefinitely. We’re too exposed. Rescue is our only priority, and tomorrow that is what we must work towards.”

  Anna went to argue, but stopped herself. She didn’t have the energy. “Fine…whatever you say. I’m going to get some rest. If the world stops ending, you have permission to wake me.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she ambled over to the sofa and collapsed face-first on it. The slumberous feeling that immediately washed over her was heavenly. Her muscles turned to jelly and within seconds sleep snatched her away.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Every time Anna went to sleep sober, she dreamt about her baby. She dreamt about the baby she never knew, the little boy that never was. She dreamt about Baby.

  She saw her son’s face, his closed eyes and tiny nose – eyes that would never see and a nose that would never breathe. She only got to hold her baby boy once, and he had been dead.

  Every time she thought about him she wondered what he would’ve looked like now if he’d lived to be four-years-old. She wondered if Baby would’ve looked like his father. She wondered if Baby’s father would still be around.

  Then she would wake up in tears, every night the same.

  Until she found alcohol.

  Then the dreams stopped, but the headaches and nausea began.

  Tonight, though, she couldn’t escape her dreams. They kept hold of her and tore at her soul. Tonight she dreamt of Baby as a ghoul, back from the dead to drag her to Hell. Baby had died in childbirth, murdered by his mother who was too weak, too inhospitable to bring him to term. He was denied the most basic gift of life, while his wicked mother lived on. Now Baby was back. His tiny teeth were bloody and coming for Anna’s flesh. They would tear her apart; chew her up slowly, until there was nothing left but her disembodied, screaming mouth.

  And as she screamed so too did Baby. Baby screeched like the infected people. It hurt her ears and she begged for it to stop.

  Stop, she cried. Please, Baby, stop.

  I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

  I wish it were me who had died.

  I wish you were alive and I was dead.

  Please, Baby, stop screaming. I’m begging you to stop.

  Anna shot bolt upright in the dark and clawed at her neck, trying to get free of whatever clung to her.

  It was a coat. Someone must have covered her with it.

  She remembered falling asleep on the sofa in the staffroom. She remembered, with oily sickness in her belly, all of the other things that had happened too. All of the death came flooding back to her in a horrific slideshow of mental images.

  Bradley.

  Kimberly

  Charlotte.

  Anna could hear people snoring. She also heard something else. She heard wailing.

  The muffled sound of someone – or something – in torment floated into the staffroom like a ghostly visitation. The melancholy sound seemed to echo off the walls.

  Anna left the sofa and went to the nearest window, ducking her head beneath the curtains and looking out at the moonlit night. There was nothing outside but the narrow silhouettes of trees.

  The wailing continued. It was a weak, pining, and eventually, Anna figured out where the sound was coming from.

  It was Lily.

  The thought of such a noble creature, alone and in such pain was more than Anna could bear. Pain bloomed in her own chest. It was a pain she only ever felt when she thought about Baby.

  She fiddled with the bottom of the window and eased it open, letting in the cold night air before climbing outside. She was grateful for the noisy whir of Shawcross’s fan heater and the audible cover it provided her.

  She rounded the corner of the building and headed for the orang-utan habitat, keeping her eyes peeled for any danger. What she was doing was mad, but with all that had happened, she felt unable to feel any more fear.

  It was disorienting to walk around the park in the dark. Bradley had always been there to guide her in the past. She missed her colleague, wished she’d had the chance to take him up on his offer of having a meal together. There were many things she would regret now.

  Up ahead, the ghostly visage of a mangrove tree came slowly into view. Anna found Lily sitting at the base of the tree, weeping loudly like any other childless woman. The body of Brick and the infant were lying in the centre of the enclosure, placed together, father and son. Lily was not looking at them. Perhaps it was too painful.

  “You poor, poor thing.” Anna spoke softly as she observed the heartbroken creature, but in the silence of night, and with keen animal hearing, Lily heard the voice. The orang-utan slowly raised her head.

  “I’m sorry,” Anna said, not feeling silly at all for talking to an ape. “I didn’t mean to creep up on you. I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”

  Lily stared at Anna for what seemed like forever, but during that time her weeping stopped. Then the orang-utan raised one of her arms and waved at her. It was a sad wave, a weak wave, but the fact that she’d ceased whimperi
ng made it clear that she did not want to be alone. She was glad Anna had appeared. Lily was glad not to be on her own.

  Anna had an extremely stupid idea, but it was something she needed to do, something the broken soul inside this enclosure needed. She approached the entrance to the enclosure, which was opened via a magnetic key-lock for which she knew the code. She keyed it in now and let herself into the keeper’s bungalow.

  Inside, lay a cement prep area and a small office cubicle. There was also a wire mesh cage that housed an indoor sleeping area for the orang-utans. It led to the enclosure via a tunnel.

  To Anna’s dismay, the mesh cage was padlocked. Instead she tried the office door and was happy to find it unlocked.

  The office was cramped and dingy, but the glow from a computer monitor gave enough light to make out a few details. Her attention immediately fell on a small metal closet mounted on the wall. She fumbled with its edges and found a small catch to open it. Inside was a collection of keys, all clearly labelled.

  She snatched up the key labelled CAGES and headed out of the office. The brass key fit perfectly in the padlock to the mesh cages, but she took a deep breath before unlocking them.

  Was she really about to do this?

  Yes.

  With her mind made up, Anna entered the cages and crawled through the tunnel into the enclosure.

  The odour of death hung heavy, but so did the natural musk of the orang-utans. Lily was sitting in the same place as she had been, and when Anna got closer, she turned and snorted a warning sound. For a second the whole idea seemed insane. The last time humans had been in this enclosure there had been bloodshed. Anna wondered if Lily could distinguish between the infected and the uninfected. Did she know Anna was no threat?

  Despite her fears, Anna kept moving forwards.

  Lily eyeballed her suspiciously.

  “Hey, there.” Anna kept her voice calm, unthreatening. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  She was now within a few feet of the orang-utan and all seemed stable. The atmosphere was tense, but the primate seemed to tolerate her proximity.

  “There you go.” She reached out a hand. “It’s okay, Lily.”

  Unbelievably, Anna found herself within a single foot of the great animal and was even able to sit herself down next to it.

  Letting out another billowing snort, Lily extended one of her own long arms. Her huge fist struck Anna and made her cry out, but she quickly realised that the orang-utan was not trying to hurt her, just being curious. Lily’s fingers caressed the fabric of Anna’s shirt.

  “I’m usually a little cleaner than this,” she explained.

  Lily hooted. It was a curious sound, not aggressive in the least.

  Is this actually happening? Anna asked herself. Amidst all the horror and bloodshed, there was still joy to be found in life. There were still connections to be made between kindred spirits. Nature was beautiful, even if man had become so terribly ugly. In that moment, Anna remembered why she’d become a vet in the first place: to help innocent creatures like this.

  Lily’s hand moved further up Anna’s shirt and began probing at her face and fondling her hair. The gentleness of the gesture made Anna close her eyes, and it wasn’t long before she felt sleepy.

  Before she fell asleep on the ground beside Lily, Anna thought she heard an alarm going off. It was faint, somewhere in the distance. She felt too tired, and too safe to worry.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Anna woke with an aching jaw and it quickly became apparent why. She was lying facedown on the ground, shivering, yet cosy beneath a soft woollen blanket. Despite its softness, the blanket smelt musky and foul. Anna threw it aside and looked around. The sun was rising. A new day. The terrors of the night seeming more nightmare now than reality.

  Anna leapt to her feet.

  A mound in the centre of the enclosure was covered with the same kind of blanket that had been covering her. Brick and Lily’s infant lay beneath it.

  Anna looked around for the female orang-utan but couldn’t find her. The mangrove tree was undisturbed and the enclosure was still. Perhaps Lily had gone inside the cages where it was warmer. But when Anna headed through the tunnel and back into the bungalow, Lily wasn’t there either.

  The wire mesh door to the cage hung wide open.

  Anna put both hands to her face as she realised what she’d done. She’d let a wild animal loose. It was reckless and irresponsible, but the more she thought about it, the less she cared. With things the way they were, there was no one left to take care of Lily anyway. It was better that she was free. At least that way the animal wouldn’t die in captivity.

  Anna exited the bungalow and headed back to the office block to join the others. They’d probably be wondering where she was. She rubbed at her shoulders and shivered against the cold. A spiky sheen of frost covered everything.

  “Anna!” Up ahead, Shawcross was standing outside the office block and looking around nervously. “For heaven’s sake,” he said. “What are you doing outside?”

  “I went for a walk last night. Trying to clear my head.”

  “A walk? How do we have a hope of getting through this if people start doing their own thing? It’s dangerous out here.”

  “Sorry, I just needed some fresh air.” She didn’t want to tell him about where she’d slept last night, or that an orang-utan was now loose somewhere.

  “There is a lot to be done, Anna, so get back inside. Tell Clark the same thing. I assume he went with you.”

  “Wait, what? Clark’s gone?”

  “Yes, I thought he was with you. I don’t know how long he’s been gone. Everyone pretty much fell asleep once things were settled.”

  “How did you get out of the building?” Anna asked. “Did you climb through the broken window in the office?”

  “No, Alan and Greg managed to get the front entrance open last night. We can come and go as we please now, so we’ll probably get that broken window boarded up today.”

  Anna had a bad feeling. Something wasn’t right. She pushed Shawcross aside and over to the broken window they had originally entered the building by.

  “What’s wrong?” Shawcross said, but she didn’t answer him. She didn’t want to voice what she was thinking, not without being sure.

  She pulled herself up and through the broken window and dumped herself down on the other side. The stench of death overwhelmed Anna immediately, scraping at the inside of her nostrils and making her want to gag. Tom and Charlotte lay in the centre of the room, already starting to decay.

  Clark’s body was fresher and had not yet begun to rot.

  “Oh no,” Shawcross said, climbing into the office behind her. “What did that silly boy do?”

  Clark hung from the light fixtures by what looked like a length of grey telephone cord. He’d probably hanged himself shortly after she’d left him alone.

  “I could have prevented this,” Anna said, wishing she could blink or turn away. “I left him alone in here. I should never have left him.”

  Shawcross sighed heavily. “Suicide is a selfish act, Anna. There’s no one to blame but Clark. We can’t let it distract us from what needs to be done.”

  Anna stared at him and almost hissed like a snake at him. “Are you really this much an asshole or do you have to try really hard?”

  “I’m not willing to waste time worrying about things that can’t be changed. I would rather turn my attention to the living and what can be done. I suggest you do the same. This wasn’t your fault, Anna, so put it out of your mind. You barely knew the boy.”

  With that, Shawcross left Anna alone. She didn’t know if she wanted to thump the man or thank him for his absolving words. He had a way of dividing her opinion like a hot knife through butter.

  Mike entered the room five minutes later and immediately placed a hand on her back. She flinched at first but then enjoyed the warmth of his contact. “I just passed Shawcross in the hall,” he said, s
taring at Clark’s swinging body. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I know. It’s not right.”

  “Should we cut him down?”

  “What’s the point?” she asked. “There’s death everywhere. It would just be a waste of time for us to clean up after it.”

  Mike rubbed at her back again and pulled her closer. “Don’t give up. You’re the only one of us with their head on straight. We’d all be lost without you.”

  Anna huffed. “Bullshit! All I’ve done is get people killed. Bradley, Kimberly, Charlotte, and now Clark. You’d all have been better off in the kitchen where I found you.”

  Mike fixed his dark brown eyes on her. “Hey, if we were still in that kitchen, we’d all just be waiting to die. I’d rather earn my death.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather just give up?”

  He scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “You’re a vet, right?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You know a lot about animals, so answer me this: what do animals do when humans invade their habitats?”

  “They die out, or end up in zoos like this one.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that some do. What about all the other animals that don’t die out or end up in zoos?”

  “I’m not following,” she said. Mike’s gaze was bewildering her. She felt her cheeks throb and wondered when he was going to look away from her. Not that she wanted him to.

  As if sensing her discomfort, Mike moved away and sat in a chair. “I’m talking about the animals like rats, birds, cats, rabbits, even bears. They live around people, don’t they? You can’t go anywhere in the city without a pigeon eyeing you up for food, and in America, bears and racoons come right out into the streets and raid people’s bins; so do foxes in this country.”

  “What’s your point, Mike?”

  “My point is that animals adapt. When things change for them, they don’t feel sorry for themselves or crawl up and die, they deal with it.”

  “So you’re saying that we need to, what, just deal with it? Like rabbits?”

  “Exactly. Are we so arrogant that when our cushy way of life is threatened, we’d rather just give up than have to adapt and survive? Every other species on earth has had to do it because of us, so why can’t we do it now?