The BIG Horror Pack 2

by Iain Rob Wright

  Joe thought about the snake attack. “You don’t think an animal attack is possible?”

  “Possible? Yes. But extremely unlikely. The enclosures are secure and the staff are extremely dedicated, experienced professionals. There’s never been an incident of such a kind in the seven years I’ve worked here.”

  “Sorry to disagree,” Joe said, “but I just watched a large snake kill one of your staff about ten minutes ago, over by the World of Venom building – a boa constrictor, I think. It squeezed the poor guy to death in front of a dozen people.”

  The employee’s face dropped. “Terry? I pray that you are mistaken, sir, I truly do. Terry has been with us for many years and loved Betsy a great deal.”

  Joe raised an eyebrow. “Betsy?”

  “Yes, Betsy. She is the zoo’s Pearl Island Boa. She’s always been extremely gentle. I can’t believe she would ever attack anyone – least of all Terry. They had a…bond, for want of a better word.”

  Joe nodded. He didn’t want to upset the man further, until he understood what was happening. “Maybe he’s okay,” Joe supposed. “It did all happen very suddenly.”

  The other man thought about things for a moment and his expression seemed to get grimmer with each passing second. Finally, he looked back up at Joe and said, “I believe you, sir. It doesn’t seem like you’re lying and I see no reason why you would. Something is obviously going on here today, but I just cannot fathom the idea that any of our animals would attack their handlers. There are too many precautions.”

  “Look, I don’t mean to be impatient, but you’re the only representative of the zoo I could find. You need to do something.”

  “And what exactly would you have me do? I am a curator, not a crowd controller.”

  Joe sighed. “Nevertheless, you have a responsibility.”

  The man looked at Joe for several seconds before sagging at the shoulders and replying. “I suppose you’re right. I should find out what’s going on.” He pushed Joe aside, headed for the front of the hall, and spoke over his shoulder as he went. “I still don’t believe things are as bad as people are-”

  Joe turned around to see why the curator had stopped mid-sentence. He could hardly believe his eyes as people started to scream in terror.

  Four lions blocked the far entrance to the visitor’s centre and were snarling at the people inside. Each of their fangs was the size of a tent peg and freshly spilled blood dripped from their jaws.

  Joe had a feeling that he was about to have a very bad day.

  Chapter Two

  “Lions!” someone shouted.

  Joe didn’t know why he needed to state the obvious, but saying it out loud was the only way he could accept what was happening. “Those are goddamn Lions!”

  The curator hurried back toward Joe. “This is not possible,” he said, his voice trembling like lime-jelly. “The enclosures are too secure for dangerous animals to get loose.”

  Joe grabbed the man’s collar and shook him. “Think about how they got loose later, okay! I need to get my son somewhere safe, right now.”

  The curator seemed to accept the situation and nodded his head quickly. “We should…we should get everyone further inside the building. It will be safer there.”

  Without further comment, Joe raced over to get Danny from the cube seats. The boy was frozen solid, eyes fixed on the slinking predators entering the hall. Joe took his son into his arms and turned back towards the zoo’s curator. “Where can we g--”

  The sound of fresh screams cut Joe off. Four lions, led by a heavily-maned male, were now fully inside the building. Two females split off to corner a young brunette woman in the gap between two snack machines. The beasts toyed with her, swatting her back and forth. Blood formed on the woman’s white blouse where a set of razor-sharp claws succeeded in penetrating her flesh. Elsewhere, the remaining two lions pursued anyone unable to find a hiding space.

  “We have to help these people,” Joe said. “Take my son somewhere safe.”

  The curator quickly took Danny into his arms, then turned to Joe. “We’ll be in the research wing, through the red door in the far corner. I suggest you come with us now not later.”

  Joe nodded, “I’ll be right behind you.” Then he ran off towards the brunette woman between the snack machines. He came to a sudden stop when he encountered the male lion ripping out the throat of an elderly gentleman. The big cat’s jaws cut off the old man’s screams and left him gargling blood. Joe swallowed back the burger and fries he’d eaten that morning, and battled with the dizziness that erupted from the base of his stomach.

  How did this happen? People aren’t supposed to get eaten alive by lions in the middle of England. This isn’t Jumanji!

  More screaming. People being ripped to shreds. Torn apart. Somehow the young brunette was still managing to fend off the two lionesses, kicking out at them each time they attacked and swatting at them with her handbag. It was working – for now – but it wouldn’t be long before her timing was slightly off and the lions got a grip on her.

  Joe grabbed one of the coloured cube-seats and hoisted it up to his chest. It was heavy – very heavy. Joe sucked in a deep breath and heaved with all his might, just about managing to get the thing up above his head. Then, like a circus strongman, he waddled across the hall towards the two attacking lionesses. The male lion also nearby, ripping apart another victim: this time a young girl.

  I must be insane. The first weekend I’ve had with Danny in a month and it ends up with me taking on a pride of lions with a chair from IKEA.

  Without allowing himself to think anymore – or back out altogether – Joe flung the cube as hard as he could. Through some stroke of fortune the heavy piece of furniture barrelled into both of the lionesses at the snack machines, hitting them like a bowling ball striking a pair of skittles. The lionesses sprawled onto their sides, their attack on the young woman ceasing temporarily.

  “Come on!” Joe shouted, holding out his hand.

  The woman looked at him, quaking with fear against one of the snack machines. The shock in her round, hazel-brown eyes made her seem more like a cartoon character than a human being.

  “Come on!” Joe shouted at her again, louder.

  Finally, the woman started to move, edging toward him slowly.

  Get yourself moving, woman! I don’t fancy dying today.

  One lioness was back on her feet, coiled up, ready to pounce. The young woman saw this and froze. She looked at Joe pleadingly.

  There was only one thing on Joe’s mind and he expressed it earnestly. “RUN!”

  Thankfully, the woman did as directed. The two of them bolted. Up ahead, people screamed hysterically, rational thought blocked by sheer terror and incomprehension. Joe wanted to help them all. He shouted as loudly as he could while still running. “Get in the next room. Everyone, follow me!”

  Joe’s words were almost pointless. One or two people responded, racing after him towards safety, but a majority of the people continued to stand and scream aimlessly. There was nothing Joe could do for these people. They couldn’t even help themselves.

  Up ahead on the left was a red-painted door reading: STAFF ONLY. Joe was sure it led to what the curator had called “The Research Wing.”

  Roaring – from behind Joe – so loud it made his fillings ache. Without looking, he knew that the lions were giving chase, their instincts unable to resist the sight of fleeing prey. He could almost feel their rancid, blood-soaked breath on the back of his neck. He expected to feel their wicked claws slicing through the sinewy fibres of his hamstrings any second. Joe picked up as much speed as he could muster.

  He just prayed it was enough.

  Enough to outrun a lion…

  When he and a handful of others reached the red door, Joe slammed right into it, unable to slow down in time to stop. It was then that he noticed the entrance was locked, an ominous steel number pad set beside it on the wall. He bashed at it with his fists, hammering until his skin cracked, b
ut it would not swing open. Behind Joe, the other strangers gathered frantically. Behind them, all four lions approached, led by the male with the thick, blood-soaked mane.

  “What do we do?” asked the young brunette woman.

  Joe shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  To his surprise, she laughed. “Fabulous!”

  The lions were upon them fast. The assembled group shoved one another, battling to get to the back where it was safer. Those at the front began screaming. One man, dressed in a grubby chef’s uniform, was knocked forwards onto his knees by the people behind.

  The lions were on him in seconds.

  As a single unit, the muscled predators pounced, pinning the chef to the floor with their huge round paws. The male lion was the first to draw blood, tearing off a chunk of stringy flesh from the chef’s neck with its powerful jaws. A torrent of steaming blood arced high into the air and spattered his grubby white tunic.

  At least Danny will be safe, Joe thought to himself through the growing haze of his fear-soaked mind. Even if his father gets eaten by a lion. Little bit of therapy and he’ll be fine.

  Joe swallowed hard.

  He watched the ensuing chaos and finally lost all feeling – from each of his fingertips to all ten of his toes. He could no longer think in a straight line, the adrenaline dissipating through his body and sending him into a dazed void of inaction. One-by-one, the members of the group were taken down by the lions, bitten and mauled like ragdolls. It would not be long until Joe’s turn was next; the three or four people in front of him were his only protection.

  He met the glare of the male lion’s amber-flecked eyes.

  A rumbling growl erupted from the animal’s gore-encrusted mouth.

  Can’t believe this is how I’m going to die. A footnote in ‘Ripley’s Believe it or not.’

  The people in front of Joe fell quickly, kicking out and fighting with every ounce of spirit they had left, but dying anyway. It was inevitable.

  Joe stood motionless, unable to help anyone or himself – a helpless voyeur of the human tragedy going on all around him.

  One by one, people screamed and then died.

  Eventually, Joe’s turn to join them arrived.

  The male lion glared at him once again.

  Then all four lions snarled. All four lions pounced.

  Joe closed his eyes.

  Unseen hands grabbed him, pulling him backwards. He fell hard onto his side, the impact stealing his breath away. It was a full moment later, when the vision-stars cleared, that he found himself lying in a cramped corridor. Other people were piling in after him, pushing and heaving through the narrow gap of the doorway. There were further screams from those unlucky enough not to make it through.

  A hand grabbed Joe around the shoulder. When he looked up, he saw that it belonged to the grey-haired curator. Joe got to his feet with difficulty, still struggling for breath. “Where’s…my…son?”

  “Over there.” The curator pointed to a bench against the wall. Danny sat there, safe and sound, yet clearly terrified. Joe’s lungs deflated as the stress and terror finally fled the rigid fibres of his body. His son was unharmed. He could relax.

  “We have to get that door locked back up,” the curator asserted. “I’m sorry I didn’t realise it had locked behind me. Those poor people.”

  “Forget about it,” Joe snapped. “There’re people still out there now. We have to help them.”

  “We cannot. You’ve already helped as many as you can, and if we don’t get that door secured, then none of us will be safe.”

  Joe knew the logic was correct, but it didn’t make the decision any easier. He thought about Danny’s safety and made up his mind. “Okay. Let’s get that door closed.”

  Joe and the curator rushed over to the thick wooden door and pushed against it, shoving back the half-score of desperate people clambering at the other side. There were agonised pleas and prayers to God – desperate begging that the door not be closed – but there was no hope to save them all – or any of them. In fact, most of the people outside were already half-torn, limb hanging from limb. Even those still mobile were bleeding and shocked, wandering around like shell-shocked teenagers on the beaches of Omaha.

  Except for one man further back who was still managing to put up a fight.

  It was the guy from earlier, Joe noticed. The guy from the patio.

  The Black man with the grey sideburns had shown politeness to Joe earlier. Now the man was desperately fighting off the lions and trying to help others under attack. He wielded a fire extinguisher and was spraying foam into the faces of the lions, forcing them to back away, disorientated.

  “He’s trying to save everyone,” said Joe, and for a moment he thought the man might just do it.

  But then the male lion took him down, blindsiding the courageous man as he concentrated his blinding fog on one of the lionesses. Joe heard the man cry out as he hit the deck hard. If it wasn’t for the extinguisher in his hands, blocking the lethal bite of the lion, the guy would already be dead.

  Joe glanced around, noticed that the three lionesses were still disorientated, pawing at their faces as they tried to clear the foam from their airways.

  Just the male left. I can help this guy.

  Joe stopped thinking. He forced his rubbery legs to take form and he exited the safety of the corridor and went back into the Education Hall. Exertion made his knees feel like hot coals inside paper sacks.

  The struggling man was still unharmed, fending off several attacks by using the metal fire extinguisher as a shield.

  Joe picked up his pace.

  Reaching the male lion, he swung his leg into the hardest kick he could muster. His foot connected with the side of the lion’s head and a sharp, white-hot jolt of electric pain shot through his toes. The blow had almost no effect on the target, however. The male lion flinched from the attack, but seemed no more than merely irritated.

  Bugger it!

  The lion let out an almighty roar. It was at this point that the Black man readjusted the fire extinguisher’s nozzle and pulled back the handle. Gloopy jets of foam shot into the male lion’s mouth, cutting off its ear-splitting roar and reducing it to a startled whimper. The big cat leapt backwards, choking, hacking, and rubbing its maw along the floor.

  Joe pulled the other man up and the two of them galloped back towards the red doorway as quickly as their battered bodies would allow them. All around, fierce lions lay mewling like wounded kittens. The whole effed-up situation was surreal – like Alice in Wonderland on crack.

  The two men passed through the door into the corridor. The waiting curator slammed it shut immediately behind them. The automatic bolt let out an echoing clack!

  Joe slumped back against the door and took a steady breath. It seemed like the first in a long time and the air stabbed his lungs as if he were breathing in carpet tacks. His heart was threatening to rip right through his chest. But at least Danny was still safe, still sitting on the bench against wall. The young brunette woman sat beside him, apparently making conversation and trying to calm his nerves – or perhaps her own. Joe’s heartbeat slowed down a little, but he couldn’t help shake the feeling that things were not yet over.

  In fact, he had a feeling they were going to get worse.

  Chapter Three

  “Time I learned your name, sir.”

  “It’s Joe.”

  The curator shook his hand. “My name is Mason. I am the head curator of the zoo and I thank you for all your help. I don’t think I could have taken charge like you did.”

  “Just wish so many people hadn’t gotten hurt. How many made it?”

  “There’s seven of us, including you and your son, but even more people would have been injured if it wasn’t for you, Joe. You’re a hero and people owe you their li-”

  A short, pudgy man with neatly-combed oil-black hair wedged himself between the two of them. He glared up at Mason. “Perhaps you two could stop flirting for one moment and tell
me what the hell is going on! I can tell you right now that this wretched place will never open its doors to the public again after I’m through with it.”

  Mason’s expression did not change. “And who might you be, sir?”

  The pudgy man’s features scrunched up in disapproval. “Who am I? Who am I? I am Christopher-bloody-Randall! That’s who I am.”

  Mason shook his head. “I’m sorry?”

  “From Black Remedy Investments plc. You know, the company that paid for this very building you’re standing in right now? Show me a little more respect, because I have a good mind to demand our investment back right now. This is not what I expected when I came here for a simple business meeting this morning. It’s a fiasco.”

  Again, without any discernible expression, Mason shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t involve myself with the zoo’s finances. That would be the concern of the park administrators. I apologise for any inconvenience to you, Mr Randall, but I think you can clearly see that we are all equally affected by the day’s events.”

  The angry little man went bright red now and began to wheeze. Spittle formed at the corners of his bulbous lips. “Now you listen here. I own this building, which means I own you. I need to get out of here immediately, do you hear me? My business here is finished and I have a very important meeting to get--”

  Joe had heard enough. “Look, mate, I don’t know what mental illness you’re currently taking medication for, but people are dead. Nobody gives two shits if you have a business meeting with the Queen. Unless you intend to be helpful, please just do us all a favour and fuck off! Excuse my French.”

  The investor spun to face Joe, toe to toe, but seemed to lose his spirit when he realised the difference in size and height. Joe probably weighed six-stone more than the man and towered over him like a lead statue.