ZooFall

by Lawrence Ambrose

  "Hey, uh, kid –"

  The big cat – Gary figured some kind of lion or saber tooth tiger – pounced, snatching the boy in its jaws. Gary sprang to his feet while several women and children cried out. The monster-cat bounded away, the screaming boy in its jaws. Without thinking, Gary sprinted after them. The three young cave-dudes were running, too, but their thick stubby legs weren't covering a lot of ground. No such problem for Gary. The cat wasn't exactly a cheetah, with thick, over-muscled body and legs, and he was barely breaking into a run to keep up. Still, the cave boys soon fell far behind, leaving Gary the sole pursuer.

  The cat seemed to notice that, too, swinging its big head around every few seconds to check him out. Gary's only thought was to harass the creature until it dropped the boy and maybe went after him instead. He figured he'd have no trouble outrunning it. Fighting it didn't figure into his plans at all. Taking on an ape was one thing, but a big cat was a whole other deal, and this thing was bigger and stronger-looking than a lion. Not so much bigger as denser and wider, as if it had a couple normal lions stuffed into its body.

  Gary got part of his wish: the prehistoric lion, huffing and puffing from its flight, dropped the squalling boy and turned on him with a hair-raising roar. Gary raised his spear, debating whether or not to toss it. While he debated, the beast charged. Gary threw his spear, which the lion neatly dodged. Gary sprinted away, per his plan, and the lion pursued, falling quickly behind, also according to plan.

  What Gary hadn't planned was one foot landing in a shallow, grass-covered hole in the ground – perhaps dug by the same squirrel or gopher that had sabotaged his right ankle and half of his junior high football season years ago – which sent him sprawling on his face. He was down for less than a second, but that was long enough: he scrambled to his feet just in time to get bowled over by what felt like a half-ton pickup with fangs.

  Having read somewhere that big cats chomped down on the back of the neck to sever the spine, Gary whipped an arm around his head, which the lion accepted with a throaty growl. Gary ignored the searing pain in his forearm and attempted to twist onto his back, but the beast had him wrapped up like a straitjacket with its front paws hooked in classic wrestling style around his left side and right shoulder. He could just reach the hilt of his Bowie knife, which he nursed out inch by inch, for once wishing he'd selected a knife with a shorter blade. In the meantime, the lion wrenched his left arm violently enough that his shoulder either broke or dislocated with a nauseating pop. Gary bit down on a scream and enjoyed a panorama of stars for a moment or two before a welcome tide of endorphins flooded through his arm and body, clearing his head. Then he resumed the tedious removal of his big-ass knife.

  He finally got the knife out and was readying himself for a back-thrust that was bound to get the big cat's attention, when a chorus of angry shouts caused the creature to release his forearm and spin around. Gary twisted his head in time to see the three young cave-dudes race up with spears bristling. The lion leaped off Gary's back, pounding his body into the ground with rib-cracking sound. He watched it trot away, hissing and striking when the dudes came too close with their spears, which they seemed uninterested in throwing.

  After escorting the lion from the premises, the young men returned. Gary pushed himself to a sitting position with his right arm, his left arm hanging like limp linguini, complete with red sauce. The toddler stood clinging to the leg of one of the men, apparently none the worse for wear, his grey-green eyes wide and wondering. Two of the dudes walked over, mumbling what Gary guessed was: "Are you okay, dude?"

  "Yeah." Gary nodded reassuringly. "Just a fender-bender. Luckily, I'm a fast healer."

  They helped him to his feet, one of them dusting the grass off his chest and back, their faces no longer stone but open and relaxed, verging on smiles, their light eyes hinting of reverence. And who could blame them? He'd just gone a round with a saber tooth or one of its prehistoric cousins while saving a kid. Shit, if the world were still around he'd don a cape and be a fucking superhero.

  Gary's laugh startled the young men and the toddler. Then smiles broke out on their faces and they made heehawing donkey sounds he assumed or hoped was laughter. They got their shoulders under his arms, and though he was more than able to walk, Gary let them help him up the hill back to their tribe.

  Later, when the hunters returned with body parts from some hoofed animal, they laid great slabs of meat on rock stands the women had mounted in the fire pit, and water hissed from bowls filled with grasses and berries at the edge of the fire. Another bowl filled with water and rotten fruit was passed around. It tasted like shit yet somehow hit the spot. All around the fire, glowing faces reflected the flames. As the boys and women told the story of what had happened in the hunters' absence, the happy donkey laughter and broad smiles slipped into a reverent silence and rapt gazes at the newcomer.

  Suddenly, the men rose and surrounded Gary, close enough for him to feel the heat coming from their stout, thick-limbed bodies that made Gary think of mythic dwarves. The boulder-shouldered leader jabbed a stone knife into his forearm, and as blood pooled around the shallow wound, the other men followed his example. Finally, the knife was handed to Gary. Just what I need, he thought. Another wound. But the women had done such a thorough job rubbing special mud into his ripped and punctured flesh – and had even bound up his shoulder with a special leather splint – that he felt sufficiently renewed to accept one more cut for the sake of their brotherhood. Because when all the men stretched out their forearms and slapped them together, and Gary placed his bleeding forearm on the top of their pyramid of sweaty Stone Age flesh, there was no mistaking the universal gesture. We're brothers, he thought wonderingly, riding a strange tsunami of warm emotion. I really am their brother!

  Then they ate more steak and drank more drink, and Twiggy nestled against his side, gazing up at him with admiring eyes. He felt a fluttering of emotion that was not at all related to brotherhood. He wasn't aware of the consequences of that feeling until the tribe grew silent and still and he noticed every eye around the fire staring at the rising steeple in his loosely re-clipped Azrene skirt-pants.

  "Ah, heh." Gary tried to cross his legs, but that only nudged his turgid member to straight attention within the loose garment. "Sure is a nice night, isn't it?"

  The way his erstwhile admirers were regarding him now made Gary wonder if, despite his earlier heroism, he just might leave this party short one Johnson. But then something weird happened: the men rose somberly and one by one removed their pelt shirts or coats and deposited them side by side next to the fire. Upon laying out what appeared to Gary to be a comfy mattress of animal skins and fur, the men grabbed burning sticks from the fire and led the tribe away – except for Twiggy – into the woods. Seconds later, a new fire flared up on the far side of the trees and the quiet chatter of conversation carried to them.

  Twiggy cuddled closer to Gary, her lips touching his injured shoulder while her fingers rested on his thigh perilously close to his Leaning Tower of Pisa. After a few blissful but tension-filled moments, Twiggy rose and took Gary's hand. As she led him over to the mattress of animal furs, Gary gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Sabertooth cat for carrying off the caveman tot.

  "GARY'S GONE," said Diana, peering through her binoculars. "Or he's on the far side of the Hub."

  Crouched beside her on a rooftop a half-mile out from the Hub, Dan panned his detached IR rifle scope around the dark rim of the lit safety zone. The ring of Nazrene camped outside the zone remained.

  "I don't see him, either. But considering that the Nazrene still appear to be guarding the zone makes me think they didn't capture him."

  "Right." Diana lowered her binoculars. "The Azrene that Myth said was with him is missing, too. Makes me think she might've taken him inside the Hub."

  "That would explain it." Dan snapped his scope back on his AR-10. "I wonder what the hell is in there."

  "You mean, besides food?" They'd observed more tha
n a few creatures emerge with their jaws or arms full of what appeared to be fresh meat. Diana shook her head. "Considering Gary said he saw animals go in and come out, there's either not much reason to hang out in there besides food or there's some limit on how long they can stay inside."

  "If Gary really is in there, he could answer some of those questions when he comes out."

  With twilight approaching, they met on a nearby street with Laurie, Penny, Myth, and Gunnar – Gunnar and Laurie had been standing guard along with Curly while the night vision-enhanced Penny and Myth searched the houses. Diana took it as a good sign they were all carrying large garbage bags seemingly stuffed with loot.

  "We hit the jackpot!" Penny gushed, brandishing one of the bags. "Some person had a whole walk-in closet filled with costumes like the whole family went trick or treating!"

  "Some of them seemed extremely lifelike," Myth added. "Though not of any life-form I'm familiar with."

  "Really?" Diana looked to Gunnar, who shrugged.

  "Did you see Gary?" Penny asked, reaching out to scratch Curly's head – a practice he appeared barely tolerant of, Diana thought, judging by his subtle edging away.

  "No," said Dan. "But since the Nazrene are still posted around the safe zone, and the female he was with is missing, too, our theory is that he's inside the Hub."

  "That could be interesting," said Gunnar.

  The sun was peeking over the horizon by the time they made it back to camp. Everyone was too keyed up to sleep, so after a quick breakfast of powdered milk, and instant eggs mixed with jerky – from the new batch of food Myth had brought back from Merrifield Outfitters – they broke out their bags of costume booty.

  It was soon apparent that their expectations had been grossly exceeded – in both senses of the word, Diana thought. The collection of costumes was definitely not rated for Halloween, unless the Halloween was triple X-rated: hairy, anatomically correct demon-suits sporting satyr-sized penises vied with silicone breast-baring succubus beasts – some with horns, others with large, pointy elfin ears – all with slits or holes in all the right – or wrong, depending on your point of view – places, a Bacchanalian parade of creatures from a Stephen King wet nightmare.

  "I can tell you right now," said Dan, "my daughter is not wearing any of those things."

  Gunnar and Diana traded grins. Gunnar cracked up.

  "Man," he said, holding his chest. "These people had to be from California. What good God-fearing Midwestern folk would have these in their closets?"

  "My feeling is they might fear other gods," Diana laughed. "Makes me wonder if Midwesterners are as dull as everyone makes them out to be."

  "I'm not dull!" Penny protested.

  "Me, neither," said Laurie.

  "I wish I was," said Gunnar. "Being complicated isn't what it's cracked up to be, trust me."

  They sorted through the costumes, shaking their heads and scowling – an occasional giggle from Penny breaking the uncomfortable silence. She held up a costume that looked to be a fairy with its elfin ears and shimmering wings and small, pointy breasts.

  "This one isn't too bad," she said. "I could almost be one of the killer-fairies."

  "Could be," said Diana. "We should save one of the two fairy costumes for Donny since they're the smallest."

  "Damn," said Gunnar. "It's a lifelong dream come true. I always wanted to be a satyr."

  "Is that what those things are?" Diana hoisted one of the hairy, horned costumes. "I thought it was supposed to be a devil."

  Gunnar snickered. "Is there a difference? I mean, from a woman's point of view."

  "I couldn't say. I never had much interest in either."

  Diana dropped the devil/satyr and picked up a "she-demon" – what she took to be the female equivalent of the penis-sprouting devils. Apart from her revulsion, she mostly felt a gratitude approaching that of a lottery winner.

  "The only problem I see is our smell," she said. "Maybe your idea of smearing a dead animal over the costumes might work, Gunnar."

  "We could kill a deer," said Dan. "Rub its junk over the outfits."

  Gunnar frowned. "We're too close to their camps to be shooting."

  "Curly and I can catch a deer," Penny chirped. "I don't need to use my gun."

  "If you think can pull that off, go for it," said Dan. "The sooner the better. At some point, we mortals could use some rest before tonight. It could prove to be a long night."

  "Sure, Mr. Jenson," said Penny. "I could use some real meat anyway. Those eggs and jerky tasted like sand with dried turds. No offense, Diana."

  "That's okay. It's not my recipe."

  Penny sprinted off with her dog. Gunnar made more coffee, and they sat around the fire pit – the fire quashed to avoid shedding smoke in the daylight – discussing plans for the night's assault.

  "I see Penny and Myth going to Sonja and Donny's tent," said Diana. "We'll stay back a bit, covering their escape path out of the camp."

  "They could bring in pistols for them," said Dan. "If things get hairy, we'll move in and lay down heavy fire." He clenched his jaw. "Do whatever's necessary, even if that means laying out a carpet of baboons."

  "I say we come in from the north, one of our observation spots," said Gunnar. "I spotted a rocky hill with some trees north of their camp a couple of clicks. We could retreat to that instead of trying to get back here. If there's resistance, as Dan said, we'll come in and take out whoever needs taking out. If not, we'll let Myth and Penny bring 'em to us. If they follow, we'll have a nice vantage point to mow them down. If they don't, we can take the long way home."

  "Keep it simple, stupid," said Dan.

  Gunnar smiled. "You betcha."

  THE MORNING dawned with warm sun in Gary's eyelids and on his now mostly bare skin. He opened his eyes and breathed in the scent of the girl lying in his arms and the dry-cleaned primordial air. He brushed her red hair from his arm, pausing to sample its surprising softness before his fingers touched her bare shoulder. She stirred but didn't awaken. The slight shift of her ass against his groin got him stirring as well. He raised his head. They were still alone by the fire, and the others had remained at their end of the woods. The coast was clear –

  Except for the object hanging in the air above the yellow grass maybe thirty yards from the trees and twenty yards up. The object was basically round, about the size of a small bus, but stretched out a bit into an egg shape, with small protrusions that reminded Gary of a bug. It hung there in silence. No whirring or buzzing or any kind of hum – nothing even his ultra-sensitive ears could pick up.

  Gary jiggled Twiggy. The girl made a soft noise but didn't open her eyes. He shook her harder. Nothing but a moan. He lifted one of her arms, which flopped back on the furs when he released it. This wasn't normal. It was as if she'd been drugged.

  The object continued hovering silently before him.

  Gary pushed to his feet, scooping up his spear with him. Not that it would do any good. This ship had to be the Keepers. He'd never considered they might be here monitoring things inside the Hub, but it made sense they would be. What would they think about him? He didn't exactly fit in with the Neanderthals or whatever the heck they were, though he had stripped off the unwieldy Azrene outfit last night and replaced it with a blessedly simple spotted loincloth which Twiggy had presented to him after their third session like an honorary gift. Still, he was about a foot taller than most of the primitives and his dark hair and golden skin color added to the contrast. Besides, they'd have more technical ways to check him out. His genes or whatever.

  "Hey, motherfuckers!" Gary shouted. "Why don't you come out and talk? Look, I'm throwing down my spear." He tossed his spear to the ground. "Come out and face me you pussy pieces of shit!"

  Gary felt a warm buzz in his head. Not unpleasant but strange –

  And then he was opening his eyes to a completely unfamiliar environment: yellow, glossy walls, a high ceiling, and some square objects around him that reminded him of washing machines.
He was lying on a cot or platform, pure, glistening white in color. No straps or restraints, but when he tried to move his arms and legs shifted a fraction of an inch before encountering an invisible and unyielding barrier.

  Now you did it, big mouth. You got yourself into some seriously deep shit. Gary swallowed back his panic. God, he hoped he wasn't going to be anally probed or whatever.

  "Anybody there?" he croaked. He swallowed again, clearing his throat. "Mr. Keeper? Can you, you know, speak English?"

  "Yes. Or, more accurately, my translator can."

  Gary wondered if he was having a seizure when shock filled his brain with white, crackling light. Or maybe the aliens had just shocked him? The voice was a man's. It sounded like some professor on one of the science specials his nerd sister and mom loved to watch.

  "Look, ah, Mr. Keeper. I didn't mean what I said back there. You know, about calling you a motherfucker. You might not even have a mother. I talk before I think sometimes, you know? My mom always used to tell me that anyhow."

  There was no reply.

  "My name's Gary, by the way. Do you, like, have a name or maybe a number or something?"

  "Hello, Gary. My name is Zzurgire. A rough approximation of its correct pronunciation in your language."

  "So, uh, who are you, Zurgie?"

  "I'm a scientist tasked with setting up our operation here, and, as a secondary job, sampling and assessing indigenous wildlife. You fall under that category."

  "I'm a human being."

  "I know. But your DNA and its expressions differ significantly from the human template we're familiar with. You appear to be a different species."

  "Well, I kinda go my own way, if you know what I mean."

  "I can't say that I do, which is one reason I wanted to talk to you. We have no record of your species' existence, and you appear to be the result of a recent and thorough-going mutation or metamorphosis. Can you shed light on that?"