ZooFall

by Lawrence Ambrose

  Now what? Gary shook his head. It was always something with these damn girl-chimps. His uneasiness grew as the procession stopped a short way out of camp and set to work erecting two poles, each bearing a length of thick rope near the top.

  Confirming his building fears, they attached the ropes to the escorted female and strung her up between the poles. Gary was too far away to be sure – and all the damn monkeys looked alike anyhow – but he had a pretty strong feeling he knew who they were stringing up and why.

  "Oh, fuck," Gary murmured.

  The procession withdrew, leaving the lone female chimp swaying silently, head hung, a few feet from the ground. It could be just some monkey that got caught stealing or something, he told himself. Nothing to do with him. But he didn't believe it. As his mom and sisters had loved to point out, he had a way of causing trouble even when that was the last thing he intended, especially when it came to women. There was that substitute math teacher, Molly King, in junior high who'd gotten fired when someone snitched about their affair. And Sally Briggs, who'd had an abortion because his rubber sprang a leak during one or two of their sessions in tenth grade. Come to think of it, the girl-chimp kinda reminded him of the substitute teacher, Molly. She was hairy and ugly as hell and reeked of cheap perfume but had a snatch that wouldn't quit.

  Gary shut down his guilty speculations and moved away from the hanging chimp to seek out another entrance into the camp. He had no clue about the most likely location for the two Jensens. He'd just have to follow his nose.

  Easier said than done since the same perfume-miasma hung over the camp like soiled underwear. Yet as he probed the indelicate bouquet he thought he was starting to sniff through to possible body odors, or maybe that was some food they were cooking?

  Ultimately, it wasn't his nose that showed him the way but his ears, which picked up the faint but distinct notes of human voices. He tracked the voices to a tent in the second and inside ring, where he could see the mass of chimps were gathered around a central bonfire. That was good luck, but when some of the Nazrene glanced in his direction he shrunk back quickly behind the tent. He waited for angry cries and charging footfalls, but peeking around the tent he saw everyone still hanging unconcernedly around the fire.

  Donny and Sonja were speaking softly, but he could make out many of the words.

  "We just have to be patient," said the mother. Donny mumbled something ornery-sounding in response. Gary considered speaking up, but he couldn't be sure Donny and Sonja were alone. He decided to try his old standby bird whistle, a favorite option of his when attempting to draw the intention of friends or girlfriends inside a house without raising parental alarms. Safer than tossing pebbles at bedroom windows since that had sometimes resulted in broken glass. He puckered his lips.

  "Poo-tee-weet!"

  The warped whistle had been louder than he'd intended. The two Jensens stopped talking. One nice thing about the whistle was that no sane person could mistake it for a bird. That had also proven its downfall as parents, according to his friends, had taken to rolling their eyes and snickering, "Oh, there's Gary Hanson again."

  Gary repeated his whistle, somewhat quieter but more strident.

  "Hello?" a woman's voice carried softly through the thick tent fabric.

  "Mrs. Jensen? You're alone?"

  "Yes. Oh my – " She cut off her rising voice and continued more softly: "Who is this?"

  "Gary Hanson."

  "Oh. Are you alone?"

  "Yes, ma'am. But it's not just me. Your husband and daughter and Diana are here, too. Along with Penny and some new dude."

  "Thank God." Sonja spoke in a reverent whisper. "We always believed my husband would never give up."

  "Yeah," said Gary, a sour note entering his voice. "Anyhow, we're all here and waiting for the right moment, you know? You just gotta hang on a tad longer, okay?"

  "We can do that."

  All right, then –"

  "You should go. Someone's coming."

  "Gotcha. Later, then."

  Gary backed away, regretful that he couldn't think of anything more heroic to say, but he'd gotten the job done. Dan and Laurie would be ecstatic. He might even get a promotion. He smiled at his wit. Or better, Diana Mann might start taking him a tad more seriously. Just imagining what was lurking under those tight jeans... Heh, well, he couldn't afford to erect a tent of his own right here...

  His triumphant grin lost its edge as he rounded the camp and noticed the hanging chimp had attracted an admirer – a hungry admirer, considering how its long, elephantine trunk was poking and sniffing the lower part of her body. The thing was about the size of a rhino but looked more like a pig spliced onto a giant anteater. The girl-chimp uttered a soft cry as the pig-thing's snout fastened in her groin area. The same area he'd gotten to know so well a few days back. He wondered why she didn't spit her poison on the creature but instead clamped her lips together and tilted her head to the sky as if accepting her fate.

  "Son of a bitch," he whispered.

  Despite every sane fiber in his body longing to turn away and run back to his camp, some more primitive part of his brain commanded him toward her. If it hadn't been for the rhino-pig-anteater rooting around between her legs...

  It was just too much. That had to be his former chimp-hookup, and while he might not be a white knight, red would just have to do, because no way in hell was he letting her get eaten alive on his account.

  The pig-thing whipped its snout and porcine body around to face him as he jogged up. The end of its snout appeared to be filled with tiny teeth.

  "Back off, Porky," Gary snarled. "Unless you want to suck on this." He shook his new spear with its shiny black spearhead that he'd picked up from the dead Azrene.

  The sucker-nosed creature stomped toward him, but when Gary cocked his spear it seemed to reconsider. With a snort that sounded somewhere between the honk of a Canadian goose and a clogged vacuum cleaner, the fat-bodied beast veered and tromped away.

  Gary approached the female Azrene, more certain with every step and every hissing comment that this was in fact his chimp-chick.

  "Why do you chase away the repulsive creature?" Jizibex, former First Servant to Queen Azerval, demanded. "Do you wish to prolong my humiliation?"

  But the primitive native ignored her and using his strange and magnificently swollen blade – much like the tool he had used on her two sun-passings ago – he cut the cords binding her to her fate, dropping her into his smooth but powerful arms.

  "You foolish savage," said Jizibex. "Now you only condemn yourself. There is no place we can hide from the wrath of Queen Azerval."

  "Yeah, yeah." Her angry chipmunk with a head cold sounds were getting to Gary. He grabbed one of her hands and started dragging her away. "You can thank me later."

  She ran with him, not because there was a point but because of the beauty of his gesture, of his bravery when none of her own kind would dare oppose a royal decree. It was heresy, but the savage native, of course, knew nothing of that, living only by his own primitive code, acting on his primal desires. She saw nobility in that – and no harm in appreciating it since it could do nothing more than postpone rather than subvert the will of her queen.

  "Come on," said Gary, pulling on her limp hand. "Jeez, you're running like an old lady! You want to make it outta here alive or what?"

  A sound like a train whistle played through a kazoo blasted through the night. The Azrene slowed even more as if the noise were a barrier. Gary was about to release her hand and fire up his after-burners out of Hubville when a wall of male apes swarmed down from their camp at them. Now it was the chimp-chick's turn to pull on his hand, dragging him back toward the Hub. He knew in a blink what she was thinking: the Rodney King Zone! No one could do shit to them in there!

  They raced into the lit area around the Hub, stopping a few meters out from the wall. They turned to face a line of Nazrene following them in. Some of them were armed with spears, but no one made a motion to throw them.
They kept advancing. Despite what Gary had witnessed, he couldn't stop a growing panic as the powerful creatures closed in. What if the Zone stopped obvious kinds of attacks but wouldn't stop the Nazrene from dragging them out? He couldn't wrap his head around how whatever was preventing fights was accomplishing that. But then he'd never been all that technical-minded, except when it came to football plays.

  His companion was addressing the Nazrene horde with obvious tones of contempt. The males didn't reply back. Gary couldn't read the expressions on their baboon-faces – unlike with the chick-chimps, who had much more human faces and expressions – but his sense was they were plenty pissed off. But after closing to within a few yards, they stopped and just stared. Gary thought he knew the one standing slightly ahead of the others from the scar running in a thin line through the hair on his forehead. Scar Head, as he'd taken to thinking of him.

  Scar Head was gesturing and grunting sternly while Gary's female cohort was moving her jaws and puckering her lips as though readying to hose the leader down with industrial-strength poison. Scar Head must've noticed that, too, since he stopped talking and joined the other male monkeys in taking a step back. Gary assumed her spit would've been stopped somehow by the Zone's invisible peacekeeping forces, but the apes weren't taking any chances.

  The males pulled away and parted, giving a wide berth to the contingent of female chimps now entering the Hub's circle of light. The female monkey in front was taller and slimmer than most and wearing crisscrossing gold and red scarves, a necklace with clear golden stones, and perfume so heavy that it felt to Gary like a hard punch to his nose. He stumbled back, wincing, which drew what appeared to be a smile from what he guessed was her Royal Highness.

  "The savage is wise to fear me," chuckled Queen Azerval. "Whereas you, Jizibex, my former honored first Servant, should not fear your own redemption. Why have you run from salvation?"

  "I did not run, Goddess. I was taken by the native."

  "Then he carried you here?" When Jizibex didn't reply, the Queen smiled. "This must be the primitive who violated you, for he is wearing our clothes."

  Jizibex lowered her eyes. "Yes, Goddess."

  "Come with me now and I shall restore your redemption."

  "Will you kill the native?"

  "Certainly I will kill the savage. To know one of us as he has known you requires his death as well. He will slowly be consumed by fire, and we shall feast on his flesh once it has been purified. We are blessed that he has come to us, and we may not turn aside such blessings."

  Jizibex frowned, her thoughts churning. To defy the Queen was to defile everything she had ever accepted as truth. Yet she could not bear to reward the noble savage with such a fate. Through him, she had learned the Pleasures of the Queen.

  "I will come with you," she said, "if you spare the native."

  "You presume to dictate terms to me?"

  "He is innocent, great queen."

  "None of these native vermin are innocent, child. And such determinations are not made by someone of your class. They are mine – and those I chose to designate as worthy – to make."

  "I cannot dispute this, Queen Azerval."

  "Then come with me now."

  "I am sorry, great queen, but I cannot."

  "Child." A snarl hissed through the queen's half-bared teeth. "You can only put off the inevitable. You and your primitive savior cannot stay within the Keepers' protective shield forever. The Gateway to our world has yet not been restored. You have nowhere to go, nowhere to hide."

  Jizibex could not deny this truth.

  "You have bonded with this creature?" The Queen sounded more curious than condemning. "Is such a thing possible?"

  Jezibex reflected for several moments before replying: "I can only say, Goddess, that this experience...what I experienced...and what this native has risked for my sake...seems to have transformed me."

  "You are not permitted transformation, Servant."

  "No, my queen."

  "One last chance for redemption. Come with me now, or forsake forever your chance to die with honor."

  Jizibex could not bring herself to speak.

  "As you wish," said the Queen.

  Gary watched the Azrene leader perform an about-face and strut out of the light attended by her minions and the rapt gazes of the male monkeys. He could only guess what they'd said, but the end result seemed obvious: the chimp he'd banged had refused to obey Her Royal Highness. The way she'd been pointing to herself and making denying motions toward him made Gary think she might've been bargaining...offering herself for him? Would she really do that?

  The male apes formed a line near the perimeter of the light, sealing the space they'd created to let the apparent queen and her entourage pass through. At that moment, the problems with his and his companion's strategy struck him like a horse-kick in his noggin: first, they'd need to plow through dozens of apes to make an escape. Two, they had no water or food. Three, no restroom, and he really needed to take a piss.

  I shoulda made a break when I had the chance, goddammit! He would've needed to leave his hairy hookup behind, but with his speed and the cover of darkness – not so dark for him, plenty dark for them – he might've made it. Still might, he told himself, but it sure as hell wouldn't be easy to bust through the Nazrene ranks.

  Meanwhile, Diana, Dan, Laurie and the rest would wonder what the heck happened to him at some point. Eventually, they'd see he was trapped. But now he couldn't tell them where Sonja and Donny were. This whole thing had gotten a tad out of control – all because he'd decided, probably stupidly, to save the female monkey. He could just see how his people would react when he told them.

  If I live to tell them.

  AN OPERATION with no set timetable. What's not to love? Diana thought.

  It was the middle of the night, and she wished for the nth time that she had coffee – or a tranquilizer – to either sleep or make a decision about the missing Gary. As it was, she was stuck in the middle: sitting by the dying embers of a campfire, tired but sleepless, unable to sleep but unable to properly focus.

  What to do about the former football star? He'd left between six and seven hours ago. Since he could run to the Hub area and back in less than twenty minutes, that left a lot of time to account for: Gary could circle the Azrene campsite hundreds of times in six hours. After the first few times, surely he'd give up and come home?

  Gunnar Thorenson crawled out of his sleeping bag, and after a brief detour to water some nearby trees joined Diana by the fire.

  "Bad dreams?"

  "Bad predictions."

  Gunnar chuckled softly. "When did you think the boy would be back?"

  "If he stuck to the plan – this time really avoiding trouble – he should've been back hours ago."

  "Trouble might not be so easy to avoid. Especially for him."

  "True. So he's either dead or captured or found something incredibly fascinating and time-consuming to check out."

  "That boy doesn't strike me as having the attention span for that."

  "Exactly. Which leaves the dead or captured part."

  Diana stirred the embers with a long stick, knocking some life back in them. Myth rose from a patch of grass and leaves and walked up. She tossed a pair of slim logs into the fire pit. Watching her, Diana reached a decision.

  "Would you be willing to run down there tonight and see if you can find him, Myth?" she asked.

  "I was about to volunteer to do that. You're right, Diana – he shouldn't be gone this long unless something has happened."

  "With that kid, something always happens," said Diana. "If he stayed near the camps – and I can't imagine why he wouldn't have – he shouldn't be that hard to find."

  "His wearing the Azrene outfit will make it harder to smell him, but if he got in trouble, I'm sure they'll be signs."

  "That's what I'd expect."

  "I'll leave now."

  "If he's been captured, don't try to rescue him, Myth. Please just come back
the moment you learn something."

  "I will."

  After corralling her weapons, Myth bounded off into the night. The logs she'd added to the fire gradually began to ignite, casting welcome warmth over Diana's tense body. Gunnar was smiling at her over the growing flames.

  "Why don't you go back to bed, get some rest," he said. "I'll stay up and wait for Myth to return."

  Diana shook her head. "I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. Damn..." She rubbed her temples. "I'd kill for a cup of coffee."

  "Not necessary."

  With a wink, the big Nord retreated to his bike and retrieved a small thermos and a stainless steel cup from his pack.

  "Just mixed this up this morning," he said, filling the stainless steel cup from the thermos and handing it to her. "Should still be a little warm."

  "Thank you." Diana tried to keep her hands steady as she held the cup. Steam rose from the sacred liquid in the cool night. "You had time to make coffee?"

  "It's instant. But it's not your mother's instant. Starbuck's 'micro-processed' version. Beats drip coffee at most hotels I've stayed at."

  Diana took a sip. "Wow. Where have you been all my life?"

  "Are you talking about me or the coffee?"

  "The coffee. Sorry."

  "No need to apologize. What mere man could compete with a strong cup of java?"

  Diana felt the intensity of his gaze across the fire. A thousand-yard stare come to a sharp focus on her. She'd worked with a few men like Gunnar Thorenson before in her field operations. They all projected an intense confidence and focus but lacked the haunted aspect in his face and eyes. Thorenson was older, had been around, and had lived a lifetime or two as an elite combat soldier, she guessed. His confidence was solid, a palpable presence, born of experience – of success and of failure – not bravado or self-deluded optimism. An old sword of tempered steel, its blade still sharp. For a moment, she contemplated what his old "sword" might be like before cutting off the childish thought. Had Gary infected her?

  But she couldn't deny that he, like his coffee, was exactly what the doctor ordered. Yet he made her uneasy. Not because she doubted his skills or good intentions, but because something about him tugged at her, made her feel slightly queasy. He probably had a good ten years on her if not more, a greater age-difference than any man she'd ever been with, but in the scheme of things what did that matter?