ZooFall

by Lawrence Ambrose

  "Thank you for standing with us out there," Diana said.

  Laurie looked surprised. "What else could I do?"

  "Run. Hide. Turn into a terrified, blubbering idiot." Diana offered her a small smile.

  Laurie's laugh and smile were uncertain. "I wanted to do that, but it didn't seem like a good option."

  "Ha. I know what you mean."

  Laurie's smile contracted and her sky-blue eyes gathered shadows as her torchlight dimmed. "I need to rescue my family. That's not an option for me, either."

  "I know. The good news is that now we have one less person to rescue – and one more person to assist that rescue."

  Laurie nodded, biting her lower lip. "I've been afraid to ask...but is my dad okay? Why isn't he here?"

  "He's okay – or he was when we left him." Diana gathered her thoughts, seeking the most upbeat spin on what had happened. "When we returned to your house, a pair of Nazrene had stayed behind. One of them was apparently looking after a wounded compatriot. We killed them, but your dad suffered a broken arm. I think we got it set okay, but he wasn't able to travel right away – and the alien, Myth, was going through some kind of metamorphosis – so I volunteered to go after you. Penny and I, that is."

  "I knew about the two Nazrene," said Laurie. "I was worried how you'd handle them."

  "They weren't easy to handle, but we got through it."

  "Where's Penny?"

  "She headed back to your place yesterday to tell your dad what's happening. Hopefully, she'll get there okay."

  "So when did you leave my place?"

  "Right after I patched up your dad – mid-afternoon of the day you and your mother and brother were abducted."

  "I don't even know how long it's been." Laurie rubbed her head. "It seems like years...and like it happened five minutes ago. But this is the third day, right?"

  "Right. We found where you'd stopped at a lake, by the way. We spent the night there."

  "We were there for a while. The pack that attacked us at my place met up with another pack from somewhere else, I guess." She glanced at the nearest opening, where Gary was passing by. "We saw Gary at that lake. The Nazrene chased after him but couldn't catch him, thank heavens. I guess he's been following us."

  "Yes," said Diana. "And I'm very glad he has been. He's been a great help." She lowered her voice. "Though I'm not sure how far to trust him."

  "He doesn't seem like a psychotic killer now."

  Diana chuckled under her breath. "He's not exactly all there, but the killer phase seems to have passed. Same for Penny. I'm not sure if your dad mentioned that I found Penny feeding on a sibling as well."

  "Really?" Laurie grimaced. "It must be a temporary form of insanity."

  "I want to believe that."

  "Penny seems like such a nice girl now. And so talkative. She used to hardly say a word."

  "Maybe she's been cured of her autism, but like Gary, she's not exactly normal."

  "Is she strong like Gary?"

  "I doubt as strong – he's much bigger and a star athlete, after all – but yeah, she's definitely several times stronger than a normal girl her size and age. She's also highly intelligent and resourceful and good with guns."

  "I noticed that. I'm glad. We need all the help we can get."

  "We've become quite a team of oddballs." Diana stared at Zurzay, willing him to heal. As if he'd felt her thoughts, he shifted his body with a murmuring groan. "I only hope we can keep all the ones we have."

  They both jumped a little when Gary raced inside, breathless.

  "They're coming back!" he said. "But something's different about them this time."

  Diana and Laurie followed the youth to the front of the cylinder. A line of Nazrene were approaching in a slow walk with their long arms raised, stopping at the cluster of bodies lying in the grass perhaps eighty yards from them. Diana shouldered her M&P, sighting in on the center of the baboons. As if responding to her, the largest of them lowered his arms and gestured downward with both hands. The creatures on either side of him sank as one to their knees, all raising a palm toward the three humans watching from the cylinder. Then the central figure, which Diana strongly suspected from his size and body language was the leader, dropped to one knee and lifted one palm.

  "Are they surrendering?" Laurie whispered.

  "I think they're asking us not to kill them while they remove the bodies," said Diana. "They have an almost religious thing about properly disposing of them."

  "That's right," said Gary. "They cook and eat them. Or parts of them. I've seen it."

  "Right." Diana had an unpleasant flash of a baboon slumping into burning ashes accompanied by the odor of burning flesh. "I've seen the leftovers from that."

  She lowered her rifle. Gary stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.

  "Aren't you going to shoot them?"

  "Not today."

  "They're just a bunch of stinking animals!"

  "They may have their faults," said Diana, "but those are not animals."

  Chapter 12

  EVERY MOMENT, IN EVERY way, I'm getting stronger every day.

  Dan had started that healing litany as a high school football athlete when a hard tackle had strained his medial collateral ligament. He had no proof that it helped, but he had recovered and played varsity ball the next season, so he saw no reason not to repeat that affirmation when his humvee had overturned in Syria, leaving him with broken ribs and a fractured neck. In both cases, his doctors had been surprised by the speed of his recovery, calling him a "fast healer."

  But he'd been a lot younger then, and under much less pressure to recover quickly. Now, his healing mantra had an angry, frustrated insistence, demanding rather than coaxing his battered body to heal. Strangely, the harder he pushed himself to heal, the more aware he became of just how injured he was and the likely long journey ahead. His left arm was a double-layered dessert of throbbing pain and disturbing numbness. He suspected impaired circulation, but his skin tone looked okay.

  The arm was a given, but his bruised, possibly fractured, ribs and sprained right knee – he still wasn't sure that he hadn't torn something in there – and his general energy level, which he thought in comparison might've made a sedated turtle seem energetic, didn't fit his ambition to walk the ends of the world, if necessary, to track down his family. It was doubly frustrating to see Myth bouncing around with barely constrained energy, waiting on him hand and foot – for which he was duly grateful – telegraphing how ready s/he was to race after his family and possibly join up with Diana and Penny.

  "God," he said out loud. He hadn't prayed seriously for years. Asking favors from God had always struck him as a bit egotistical, not to mention an admission of weakness he rarely felt comfortable expressing. But if there ever was a time he needed a higher power, this was it. "God, I don't think I have the strength to do this on my own. I don't have the right to ask, I know. We lived while so many others have died. But if you are willing to add to that mercy, please help me regain my strength and save my family."

  Myth appeared in the doorway to his bedroom. "Were you calling for me?"

  "Not unless you're God."

  "God." She appeared to taste the word. "You mean, the deity?"

  "Supreme deity, yes."

  "Marjorie had strong feelings about it. Many thoughts about it. Professor Johnson did not believe."

  Dan sat up on his bed, stretching his arms and legs through hills and valleys of pain. "Do you have religious beliefs? A belief in something higher?"

  "Yes. We believe in ourselves – as we could be. Our highest state."

  Dan chuckled a bit uneasily. "Sounds like you want to become gods yourselves."

  "Yes." Myth said it in solemn, reverent tones. "Become the most powerful and wisest being."

  "You're scaring me a little here, buddy."

  "No need fear, Dan. We become nice gods. You our friend." Myth's smile, now composed of triangular white shark-teeth, was less than reassuring. "Of
course, we will destroy the Keepers completely when this happens."

  Dan felt gooseflesh working its way up his forearms. "Sounds good to me."

  A smacking on the front door caused him to stumble sideways a step as he pushed up from his bed. He grabbed the Savage 10 rifle from the mattress, his heart racing.

  "Mr. Jensen? Myth?" a small girl's voice rose to them. "It's Penny!"

  Dan released his breath, bracing one hand on his dresser. He gathered his oxygen.

  "Hi, Penny," he called. "Be down in just a second." He nodded to Myth. "Go let her in."

  Myth bounded down the stairs with a speed that made Dan wince. He hobbled down after her. At the doorway, the young blond girl peered up at the alien with a wary face.

  "It's okay," said Dan. "It's Myth. She's gone through a couple changes."

  "I remember her, you" – she addressed Myth – "on the chair, practically invisible."

  "It was just camouflage," said Myth. "For self-protection during vulnerable time."

  "I figured."

  "Come in," said Dan. "Help yourself to food and drink. Diana's not with you?"

  The girl shook her head. "I left her with Zurzay. And I've already eaten, thanks."

  "Zurzay? That flying wolf-thing is with her?"

  "Yeah. We were outside the baboon camp."

  Dan gripped the banister as he took the final step to the floor. "Is my... Are Sonja, Donny, and Laurie..."

  "We thought they were there," said Penny. "I could smell them on the trail. We didn't see them, though. There was another alien landing ship. The Nazrene were unloading stuff from it. Looked like they had a camp in the nearby woods."

  Dan settled himself down at the kitchen table. "How far away is this Nazrene camp?"

  "I'm not sure." Penny scratched her chin, eyes growing distant. "It took me about a day to run back here. Maybe one hundred miles?"

  "You ran one hundred miles...in a day?" Dan glanced at Myth, who didn't appear impressed.

  "No. I had to stop the first day back because Curly wasn't feeling too well."

  "Curly?"

  "My pet dog." Penny gave him a proud smile. "Well, more of a bear-dog, really. A zoo creature. But he's really nice, like Zurzay. He's waiting in the yard now. Do you want to meet him?"

  "Uh, you sure that's safe?"

  "Oh, sure. Like I said, he's real nice. Polite, even. And he knows I'd kill him if he tried to hurt you." She smiled sweetly.

  "Good to know. And by the way, Penny, thank you – for everything you've done. There's no way I can ever thank you enough for that."

  The girl bowed her head, blushing. Then she shuffled forward and wrapped her slim arms around him. As they closed around his waist, Dan thought he knew what an anaconda's tightening coils might feel like. He cleared his throat.

  "Well, we should probably go meet this hound of yours."

  Dan motioned her ahead of him to the front porch. He limped after her and Myth.

  As with so many of the alien zoo creatures, Dan had a strong first impression of familiarity – a sense of it being similar to a native animal – but "hound" was not a term that even remotely applied. The longer he studied the creature the less he felt able to stuff "Curly" into a familiar category. His first impression of "dog" swiftly evolved into "bear-dog" – its muzzle and chest and head seemed more bear-like – while its body shape struck him as leonine. Dan guessed it was about the size of an African male lion. An African lion with a blue curly Airedale coat?

  Dan had a sharp longing for his rifle or at least one of his pistols as the creature rose from its haunches and trotted forward with a graceful, horse-like trot. He sensed no aggression in the animal, but it exuded such high-voltage sheer power that Dan couldn't help taking a step back before it pulled up of its own accord at the porch steps.

  "Curly, meet my friends, Dan and Myth." She pointed them out. Neither Myth nor Dan made a move to leave the porch. "You can come down and pet him or whatever."

  "He's intelligent, isn't he?" That was certainly Dan's strong impression.

  "Yes. Really smart, like Zurzay!" Penny beamed at her new partner. "Only prettier."

  Swallowing down his fears, Dan limped down the stairs. Unsure of how to proceed, he held out his hand. Curly stared at him with cool assessment – the air of a judge attempting a fair judgment of a defendant, Dan thought – making no move away or toward his extended hand. Screw it. He moved closer, reaching for the side of the creature's muzzle. His fingers made contact. The fur was surprisingly bristly, like touching the end of a broom. The creature shook its head – a quick, subtle motion, but enough to communicate enough. Dan withdrew his hand.

  "Curly, huh?" he murmured, stepping back.

  "Nice name, don't you think?"

  "Sure. It, uh, fits."

  "Myth?" Penny raised an eyebrow to the alien. "I like your new look, by the way."

  "Thanks."

  Myth hopped to the ground, landing several feet to one side of the statuesque, blue-furred creature. Curly swiveled his head with slow deliberation to regard her. He took a long sniff, his muzzle opening a fraction.

  "A Zemzorik. I know them from the zoo." Myth kept her distance, returning the creature's steady gaze. "The Keepers said they were used to hunt slaves on their world."

  "Huh," said Dan.

  "Human slaves," Myth added.

  Dan felt a slow burn of hostility rising in him. "Are there humans in this zoo?"

  "Yes. But not like you. Primitive."

  "Stone Age?"

  "If that means before advanced tool-using, yes."

  Dan's hostility rose a few more degrees. He took a moment to focus on tamping them down. Meanwhile, Myth and the alien bear-dog appeared to be locked in a staring contest. Curly sniffed again with more emphasis, his jaws remaining slightly parted. Dan sensed something brewing between them, an undercurrent of undefined tension.

  "Is there a problem with you two?" he asked quietly, wishing again for a weapon. Regardless of what Penny said, an attack on Myth was an attack on him. He had a disturbing flash of what a battle with Myth and him pitted against Penny and her new companion might be like. He wasn't sure what Myth was capable of in her new form, but he wasn't fond of their chances.

  "I think he remembers me," said Myth, her voice showing none of the tension Dan was feeling.

  "How? You didn't live with them, did you?"

  "No. Was there sometimes when Keepers examined them."

  "That doesn't sound like something that would make them like you."

  "No."

  "Should we be worried?"

  "Perhaps."

  "No." Penny stepped decisively between her new companion and Myth. She grasped Curly's muzzle with both hands and stared into his eyes from inches away. "They are my friends. They are now your friends. The past doesn't matter. Understand?"

  Dan braced for the creature to chomp most of the girl's face off with one casual bite. Instead, Curly closed his eyes and bowed his head.

  "Good boy!" she proclaimed, ruffling the fur on his head. "That's my good big boy!"

  Dan cast a sardonic look at Myth. "Does that mean he's agreed, Penny? That he does understand?"

  "Yes, Mr. Jensen," she said.

  She spoke with a conviction Dan had trouble believing. Unless they enjoyed some psychic connection, he thought, how would she know? But then Diana seemed to know what her flying wolf was thinking, while he was someone who'd never enjoyed much rapport with animals.

  "We should get going," said Dan. "If my family is at that camp, they may not stay there forever."

  Penny was giving Dan a dubious once-over as he clung to the porch railing. "Can you even walk?"

  Dan straightened up, his face a mask of determination. "I can. But walking a hundred miles..." A bleak reality tempered his expression. "I'd be too slow. So I'm thinking a bicycle."

  "My gramps has a bicycle," said Penny. "It was grandma's. A three-wheeler with a basket in back. It might be perfect for you, Mr. Jensen."
<
br />   Dan sighed, lowering his head. "Sadly, you might be right, Penny. Would you be able to lead us back to the Nazrene camp using mostly roads? I mean paved roads."

  Penny frowned in thought for a few moments. "I think so."

  "A map would probably help," said Dan. "I have a state map in my pickup. With any luck, maybe we can figure out roughly where you were and get as close to it as possible by road."

  "Maybe." Penny sounded doubtful.

  No one spoke for several moments. Dan roused himself from the porch railing.

  "All right," he said. "There's still plenty of daylight. We should get moving."

  YOU LIVE HELL ONE day at a time, Sonja Jensen had decided. A darker variation on the philosophy, handed down by her parents, of not obsessing about the future and living one day at a time to the best of your ability.

  A light had burst through the gloom and doom when Diana and the flying wolf had attacked two days before, and for one breathtaking moment Sonja had dared to hope before seeing their salvation torn away by the relentless determination of their captors.

  Another much murkier light appeared when Laurie vanished from camp last night. Sonja had no idea how her daughter had escaped or how she'd managed to evade her inhumanly swift and powerful pursuers, but they'd heard some sporadic gunfire, and the Nazrene had returned empty-handed, gesticulating madly while dragging back bodies and slathering their powder-blue miracle cream over any ape that was still breathing.

  "It was Diana and her flying wolf," Donny had declared confidently. "They snuck in and got her out. And when the baboons went after them, they kicked butt, somehow."

  Somehow. Sonja wanted desperately to believe her daughter was okay, but the leader, Gash, had refused to answer any of her questions about what had happened that night. Sonja believed they would've returned with Laurie, even if she'd been badly injured or dead, but she had no way of knowing for sure. Until she did, she would join her son in choosing to assume the best not the worst.

  If Diana and Laurie were together and alive – along with Diana's deadly companion – then a future rescue attempt was inevitable. They could only speculate about why Dan wasn't with Diana. That had obvious ominous implications, but Sonja, along with Donny, once again refused to assume the worst. For all she knew, Dan was here and working with them. He might even have been instrumental in freeing Laurie. Their only certainty was that whatever had happened that night had not been in the apes' favor.