Pack Animals

by Peter Anghelides

  Rhys looked around the deserted top floor. ‘It’s a bit spooky with no one here.’

  ‘You sound like Andy.’

  ‘Don’t start,’ he laughed. ‘OK, I remember these Halloween decorations. There, in the far corner: Leonard’s Toys and Games.’

  The lights were still on inside the shop, bright behind the pumpkins and gravestones in the window. Its metal shutter was almost down, with just a metre gap at the bottom. The pair of them stooped beneath it.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Gwen’s shock turned into relieved laughter. She’d seen the tall figure by the tills, like an over-tall Weevil. In the split second before she’d realised it was a dressed-up shop dummy, her gun was in her hand and pointed unwaveringly at its head. She holstered it again, noting that Rhys’s face registered something between shock and admiration.

  The empty shop had a locker-room smell, as though a football team had recently vacated it. A forlorn-looking papier-mâché diorama, painted and laid out like a battlefield, filled a section at the rear. Several carved figures had tumbled, discarded or forgotten, next to a couple of dice that had more than six sides. A handful of dog-eared MonstaQuest cards were strewn on the far side of the table.

  Gwen rotated the blister packs that hung on wire racks by the till. She definitely recognised a couple of miniature Weevils and a Hoix – though the packaging called them ‘Toothsome’ and ‘Maymer’. The other models were new to her, including one with two heads like snarling, spitting snakes. Another had a long tail and neck, with a horn in the middle of its forehead that made her think it looked like an angry diplodocus.

  ‘We’re closed,’ snapped a thin voice. It belonged to an equally thin man, who stood up from behind the till counter, almost as though he’d been hiding there. The shopkeeper’s dark hair spiralled wildly about his head. His abrupt appearance made Gwen jump involuntarily, which seemed to amuse him. He turned to face Rhys, and a look of recognition spread slowly across his face.

  The shopkeeper’s mouth twisted into what might have been a smile or a grimace. The tiny teeth and a wide expanse of gum made him resemble some kind of pasty boxer. ‘Hullo,’ he said, ‘have you come back for your change, then?’

  ‘Oh, aye,’ Rhys laughed. ‘Left in a bit of a hurry.’ He offered his hand.

  The shopkeeper started to fumble in his till.

  ‘No,’ laughed Rhys. ‘I was introducing myself, proper like. I’m Rhys, and this is Gwen.’

  ‘Dillon.’ The shopkeeper shook his hand, and sheepishly gave him another gummy smile. He ignored Gwen. ‘I remember. Gave me a tenner, for the MonstaQuest pack. Then hoofed it when the alarm went off. S’why I always take the money before I hand anything over.’

  Rhys jerked his thumb in the direction of the main mall. ‘You didn’t evacuate with everyone else, then?’

  ‘So many false alarms these days,’ said Dillon dismissively. ‘But I might as well close up the place now. Sales have been rubbish. But this – busiest trading day of the week? It might put me out of business.’

  Rhys looked surprised. ‘You said this MonstaQuest thing was really popular. Thought you must be coining it there, mate.’

  ‘Not me. Gareth’s the one making all the money on this. I’m just a niche supplier.’ He pronounced it to rhyme with ‘hitch’, and spat the word like it was a curse.

  ‘This is what we came to talk to you about,’ interrupted Gwen impatiently. She pushed a ‘Toothsome’ blister pack across the counter.

  ‘Seven ninety-nine,’ said the shopkeeper.

  ‘I thought you were closed?’ Gwen replied, irritated by the misunderstanding. ‘But I’m not buying.’ She was aware that Rhys was scowling sidelong at her. Well, what did he want? He’d be chatting with this guy all day and getting nowhere. ‘Where did these models come from?’

  ‘Who wants to know?’

  ‘Trading Standards.’

  The shopkeeper’s lips set in a narrow line. ‘You can sod off then.’

  Rhys blew out a sigh. ‘Nice one.’ It took Gwen a moment to spot that he was muttering at her. ‘Please, Dillon. We need your help.’

  ‘Oh, you’re Nice Cop, are you?’ The shopkeeper looked between them warily. ‘You don’t scare me.’ His till snapped shut with an emphatic bang. ‘Told you, we’re closed. You can see yourselves out.’ And with this, he was off to the rear of the shop, where he began to tidy up the papier-mâché landscape.

  Rhys put his hand on Gwen’s arm to stop her rushing after the thin man. He joined the shopkeeper at the diorama, and began to put model Weevils into a box while Dillon scooped up the scattered MonstaQuest cards from the painted surface. ‘Come on, mate. What harm can it do?’

  ‘What do you care?’ muttered Dillon

  Gwen could hear in Rhys’s voice that he was struggling to keep calm. ‘What about this Gareth? Got an address for him? Where can we find this mate of yours?’

  Dillon snatched a Weevil model from Rhys’s fingers. ‘He’s no mate of mine. Not any more!’ he shouted. Gwen was alarmed to see the tendons sticking out in the shopkeeper’s thin neck. MonstaQuest cards quivered in his fist – a couple of growling Weevils, and a fiery monster than looked as inflamed as Dillon’s veined forehead. ‘He talked me into setting all this up. Organised these table-top games. Such big plans we had. But when I tell him that the mall management have put the rent up, and I might have to close, what’s he do? Storms out, that’s what!’

  Rhys gestured to calm the man down, but this just infuriated him more.

  ‘Left me holding the baby, good and proper! Niche supplier not good enough for him. He’s getting MonstaQuest into Wendleby’s. Right in the centre of town.’

  Rhys gave Gwen a brief look of desperation. But Gwen wasn’t really looking at him now. She was staring at the cards in Dillon’s grip. There was a distinctive lick of fire from the flame monster. Dillon noticed where Gwen was focusing, and took a look himself. He squealed in surprise, and dropped the burning card onto the painted landscape.

  It was as though he’d dropped a match onto petrol. With a whumph of ignition, a huge gout of flame spurted upwards from the landscape. All three leaped away from it as the intense heat seared them. This was no ordinary fire. It curled and twisted at the edges, until it defined a distinct humanoid outline. One arm reached out lazily, and a shelf of comic books burst spontaneously into flames.

  Gwen’s first reaction was to pull out her handgun. Rhys goggled. ‘What the hell good is that?’ he yelled. ‘Dillon, where’s your fire extinguisher!’

  Dillon seemed frozen in shock. Another shelf full of magazines exploded into orange and red and yellow. The whole of one side of the shop was ablaze.

  Rhys pulled the shopkeeper away as the table containing the diorama collapsed. The fire creature stood tall in the middle of the conflagration, and reached out a scorching tendril towards them. Dillon covered his face in horror.

  A cold dark hole seemed to open up in the centre of the fire creature’s torso. It folded its arms towards its body and bowed its head. Its furiously burning legs buckled, and the whole thing collapsed into a molten heap, scattering embers across the shop where they began fresh fires.

  ‘It’s gone!’ yelled Rhys.

  ‘But this fire hasn’t!’ called Gwen. ‘We have to get out of here!’

  They dragged Dillon out through the shop exit. After a panicky search, they located the crank that would bring the shutter fully down. Rhys ran to a fire alarm and managed to break the glass on the second attempt. The all-too familiar wail of the alarm echoed throughout the abandoned mall.

  The Halloween masks and fake cobweb in the display were ablaze now, the windows blackening and cracking. Sprinklers were making a futile attempt to contain the inferno, but it was already clear that the fire was uncontrollable.

  They’d backed away as far as the dead escalators when Leonard’s Toys and Games blew out. Pea-sized chunks of window glass scattered across the area like a sudden shower. Within seconds, the pre-school store next door had caug
ht alight.

  Dillon sank to his haunches on the mall floor.

  ‘That fire-monster enough to scare you?’ Rhys asked him.

  The shopkeeper began to sob. ‘No one will believe me,’ he wailed. ‘They’ll have me for arson.’

  ‘Nah,’ said Rhys. ‘Spark from the till, wasn’t it?’ He nudged Gwen’s elbow. ‘We only just got you out in time, didn’t we Gwen?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Gwen helped Dillon to stand and indicated their escape route down the stairs. ‘We’re your witnesses.’

  The shopkeeper had an incredulous, eager look in his eyes.

  ‘Well, we could be,’ added Rhys as they ushered Dillon through the fire doors. ‘So long as we get this Gareth’s home address.’

  TEN

  Ianto Jones looked at the snake, and the snake looked back at Ianto. Its jaw opened lazily, only twenty centimetres from his nose as he squatted. He could feel the tension in his haunches. He was going to have to stand up. Would that alarm the snake?

  ‘Oxyuranus microlepidotus,’ Jack told him.

  Ianto didn’t look away from the reptile poised in front of his face. He said calmly: ‘You’re making that up.’

  ‘That’s an inland taipan,’ continued Jack, his voice low and dangerous. ‘One bite contains enough venom to kill a hundred men.’ He considered this for a moment. ‘l dated a girl like that.’

  ‘Well, some date you’ve turned out to be.’ Ianto tutted and stood up with a groan. He pushed against the glass that separated them from the snake. ‘All you want to do is talk about your former conquests, Jack.’

  In the darkness of the reptile house’s observation deck, Jack sought out Ianto’s hand and squeezed it affectionately. ‘You’re a bit of a charmer yourself, Mr Jones.’

  Ianto watched the taipan. It had already lost interest, and slithered its olive-green body to the other side of the glass exhibit space. ‘I didn’t charm him. Or maybe her.’

  ‘What d’ya expect?’ Jack grinned. ‘Staring out from a glass box for years on end. Who’d want that?’ He nodded at the exit. ‘C’mon, you can buy me an ice cream.’

  They stepped out from the gloomy reptile house and into the cold, crisp, bright November air of Torlannau Zoo. The attraction had not long opened for the day, but already it was getting busy. Kids were chattering and screaming with delight at the antics of monkeys or horror at the smells of the hippos. Parents were already being pestered for ice creams. Zoo staff chaperoned and pointed, easily marked out in the growing crowds by their brightly coloured uniforms.

  Ianto said, ‘We keep Janet in a glass box. Down in the cells.’

  ‘Never had you picked out as an animal liberationist.’ Jack was pretending to look shocked. He checked the wristband above his free hand. He never seemed to take that damned thing off – not even in bed, though that did sometimes have imaginative compensations. Ianto suspected that Jack had only agreed with today’s suggestion for a date at the zoo because Toshiko had mentioned some earlier Rift activity. And that ill-disguised glance was at least the tenth time Jack had scrutinised his wrist readout. He probably thought he was being surreptitious.

  ‘You’re off duty, Captain Harkness.’ Ianto tugged Jack’s hand, as though he could drag him away from work. ‘Hey, what’s the collective noun for…’ He looked around for a nearby display area. ‘Yeah… meerkats?’

  ‘Is this a date or a pop quiz?’

  ‘I’ll take that to mean that you don’t know,’ persisted Ianto, pulling Jack into the walkway and the conversation at the same time.

  ‘Or don’t care.’

  ‘Anyway, the answer is “a mob”. How about… lions?’

  ‘Easy! A pride. Like lions and cheetahs and all those pack animals.’

  ‘Pack animals carry things,’ Ianto objected. ‘Y’know, beasts of burden.’

  ‘Or they live in packs,’ noted Jack. ‘Y’know, like the word suggests.’ He grinned at Ianto, and swung his hand forward. ‘No, no, it’s my turn. How about… Weevils?’

  Ianto considered this briefly, before concluding: ‘It’s a shitload, obviously.’

  They both laughed vigorously at this. An old couple were walking past them on the tarmac path. The pair had their collars turned up against the cold, hands shoved well into the pockets of their matching beige anoraks. The little old guy narrowed his eyes at Ianto. ‘Language, please!’ he said mildly. ‘There are children about.’

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ said Ianto, trying not to laugh more. Jack wasn’t helping by stroking the hairs on the back on Ianto’s hand with his fingers.

  The beige anorak studied them. ‘You’re a bit old to be holding hands.’

  Jack smiled pleasantly. ‘You have no idea.’

  The elderly woman took her hand from her coat and tugged at her husband’s sleeve. ‘You’re never too old to hold hands, Walter,’ she chided him gently. ‘You just carry on, boys.’

  Walter’s face relaxed into a smile, and he and his wife walked on down the path, their translucent fingers now intertwined in an affectionate knot.

  ‘It’s not a pack of leopards,’ began Ianto.

  Jack groaned. ‘Are we still on that?’

  ‘Or tigers…’

  ‘Hey, we’re near the tigers. Let’s ask.’ Jack had spotted a big guy in a grey boiler suit. Had to be one of the zoo staff. ‘Hello!’ Jack called to him. ‘Do you know what you call a whole loada tigers? Like a crowd, or a pride, or…?’

  The boiler suit barely registered them. He was a huge, tall guy. Maybe two metres from his solid mud-caked combat boots to the tip of his spiky red hair. A ginger wardrobe of a man, whose huge hands dwarfed the PDA he was manipulating.

  ‘D’you mind?’ Jack was insisting.

  Ianto had walked over to join him. ‘Not one of the zoo staff,’ he said. He’d spotted that the crossed-keys logo on the man’s grey uniform read ‘Achenbrite’. The zoo uniforms, now he came to think of it, were blue-and-yellow.

  The huge ginger guy snapped his PDA shut with a twitch of his sausage fingers. He hared away off the tarmac path, giant strides eating up the expanse of grass between the animal displays. A flock of flamingos startled and strutted away across their pen in a pink cloud of anxiety.

  ‘Achenbrite?’ mused Jack.

  ‘I noticed,’ agreed Ianto. ‘Did you spot the earpiece?’

  A shrill scream cut across the still air. It came from the opposite direction, and it wasn’t the exhilarated squeal of a kid spotting a giraffe. This was full-throated terror. Ianto considered the directional signs, orienting himself with location information before running. There was the scream again. The signs indicated it came from over by the big cats.

  Jack chased after him up the incline towards the Bengal compound. ‘Did you see that sign?’ he grumbled. ‘They spelled “tiger” wrong.’

  Ianto tutted. ‘It’s supposed to be tiegr. God, how long have you been in Cardiff, Jack?’

  ‘Long enough.’

  ‘Long enough to have learned a bit of Welsh, that’s for sure,’ puffed Ianto.

  Jack pouted. ‘I promise to be fluent by the time you introduce me to your family.’

  ‘Then you have plenty of time to learn,’ muttered Ianto. They skidded to a halt in front of the tiger enclosure. Two blue-uniformed zoo staff were directing a nosy crowd of visitors reluctantly away from the area. The squat burly man with a moustache made of broom bristles was having more success than his lanky counterpart. Jack and Ianto got past him during this distraction.

  Ianto shoved at the access gate. ‘Shouldn’t this one be shut when the other is open?’

  ‘Gives you some idea about what’s in here,’ Jack said.

  ‘What’s that, then?’

  ‘Nothing. The animals have escaped.’ Jack was checking his wristband again, with no attempt to disguise it from Ianto.

  Another young guy was in there ahead of them. He had his hair tied back in a lank brown pony tail, for all the world like a zoo animal himself. He was struggling to comfort a s
hrieking woman, also in staff uniform. ‘It’s gonna be all right, Bethan,’ he was saying, repeatedly, like a mantra.

  ‘No it’s not gonna be all right, Jordy!’ she yelled at him. Snot and saliva hung down from her puce face. ‘The tiger’s already killed Malcolm.’ She gestured wildly to a bloodied heap by the tree at the centre of the compound. Pony-tailed Jordy wasn’t able to look, and concentrated instead on Bethan. She was having none of it. ‘I spotted his body when the enclosure wall disappeared.’

  ‘Disappeared?’ Jordy’s voice was shrill with incredulity, until he remembered he was supposed to be calming her. He stepped over to the exterior wall and slapped its unyielding surface with the palm of his hand. ‘It hasn’t disappeared. See?’

  ‘It came back,’ she grunted, her voice low and emphatic. She stared at the wall accusingly, as though daring it to be there in defiance of everything she’d said. Ianto followed the curve of the enclosure wall with his eyes. Beyond the moat that encircled the compound was an enormous glass observation window. Through it, Ianto could see that members of the public were being hustled away from the area.

  Jack nudged Ianto to get his attention. ‘The ground in here is sodden.’ He was doing that thing he enjoyed – talking through the evidence as he took it in, encouraging confirmation or contradiction from Ianto. ‘The pool in the middle there has overflowed. Backing up from the drain, maybe? Or was the victim hosing the place down before he got attacked?’

  ‘Unless it’s the tiger?’

  ‘That’s a lot of tiger pee,’ muttered Jack.

  A public announcement was echoing faintly on the still air. All the loudspeakers were in the main pedestrian thoroughfares, but some of the words carried into the tiger enclosure. The zoo was closing, and visitors were requested to make their way immediately and calmly to the exit.

  The big observation window allowed Ianto to see the arrival of two armed zoo staff, their tranquillising rifles unslung. Something about the window made Ianto take a closer look at the brick-and-concrete wall, or as best he could across the moat. That gap must be about five, maybe six metres wide.