Animal Kingdom (30 page)

Walking down the middle of the road, Caroline felt woozy enough to lie down and sleep, but she could not. Her blood would entice any animals nearby and she was no doubt being tracked as it was. If only she could take a car, she would feel much safer, but that was no longer an option. Crumpled vehicles littered the streets and made driving impossible. Walking was the only mode of transportation left, but one almost certain to lead to death.

There had been a group of more than thirty when Caroline had started her journey, over a week ago, for an army base in Leicester. They had hope of rescue and thoughts that there would be somewhere secure to wait this whole thing out. For every member of that group, except her, all hope had come to nothing.

Yet, she still moved on, stepping over the corpses of both animals and human beings—from guinea pigs to dogs, from children to the elderly. The Earth was now a warzone.

The base must be near—God how she prayed for it to be near. Caroline’s legs would not carry her much further, but she had passed through the outskirts of the city of Leicester some time ago. She must be getting closer.

Up ahead was a mass of more bodies, only this one contained solely animals. Perhaps that explained the lack of curs, tabbies, does, badgers, and cows on this stretch of road—someone had killed them all or scared them all away. Someone like a group of soldiers.

Caroline did what she could to go faster, limping along on two bad legs, swinging around her useless left arm. She imagined she looked just like a zombie from one of those hokey old movies. The thought almost made her laugh, but that, most likely, would have just caused more pain.

She reached the pile of dead animals and examined them in detail. Although it was mostly a bloody mess, Caroline could see dozens of apple-sized wounds—bullet holes from high-powered weapons.

Caroline’s hopes lifted as she became certain that sanctuary was within reach. The area had been cleared of threats by an organised force.

Caroline broke into a staggering run, heading down the road without knowing for sure where she would end up. For the first time in a week, she felt safe. She was going to live.

She rounded a bend in the road and found herself faced with a wonderful sight. At the end of the street was a barricade made from parked vehicles and bits of recovered masonry. It looked just like the entrance to an army base would in these circumstances.

Excited, Caroline headed for the barricade, but, after only a few steps, she tripped. Looking down, she examined the road’s surface for the cause. There was a child’s backpack lying near her feet. It was tattered and worn, with a colourful picture of that man from the television. A wrestler, Caroline thought, called the Undertaker.

Caroline did not want to think why the item was here—it seemed pretty obvious—so she ignored it and continued onwards. The barricade wasn’t far ahead.

She took more steps, her legs numbing with the constant onslaught of pain. She was almost there now though, only several metres away.

Caroline cried out as she reached the barrier, throwing herself against the bonnet of a burned-out Escort. “Hello! I need help.”

There was no reply, only silence. A bitter taste of dread filled her mouth along with saliva. The feeling compelled Caroline to pull herself up from the car bonnet and navigate the barricade. There was a gap between two slabs of concrete and she headed for it.

When she got there, Caroline noticed the blood that stained the edges of the wall. She followed the crimsons spatters downwards, towards the floor, until she saw the body of a man too young to die.

The name tag on his shirt read ROBSON, but did not have his first name. Caroline mourned his loss as much as she mourned her own. The base was empty of living souls and now any hope she had was gone. The bodies of dead soldiers and mutilated civilians covered the outpost, not one left alive. The amount of deceased animals made it clear that a battle had been fought here—and lost. By the end, the rescuers had needed rescuing themselves.

Caroline slumped back against the concrete slabs and slid down to the floor. It was all over for her. Even if there was someplace else safe to go, she would not be able to make it there. Her wounds had finally gotten the better of her, not of her body, but of her exhausted mind. Caroline was ready to die.

As a variety of animals emerged from various places, doorways and cars, Caroline did just that. By the time she stopped breathing she wondered if she might well have been the last person left to die.

THE NIGHT OF THE SQUIRRELS

by Eric S Brown

Shivering in the wind, Scott pulled his coat tighter around him. The rain wasn’t helping matters. This cold snap couldn’t come at a worse time. Freezing to death was the least of his worries though. Scott kept his eyes on the tree limbs above him as he ran, his shoes splashing through the mud of the forest floor. A .357 Magnum he’d taken from his dad’s gun collection rested in the right pocket of his coat. He wished he hadn’t made a run for it. Boarding himself in the house would have been the better choice but there was so much blood and so many of them. . . His dad’s gargling cries as the fastest of the squirrels gnawed into the soft skin of his neck would haunt Scott for the rest of his days, assuming he lived through the night. He had to get somewhere safe, if there was such a place left in the world. The news said all the animals on the planet had suddenly gone crazy, attacking humans wherever they could find people still alive. The military was mobilizing but the animals had the advantage both from their numbers and the shock factor of their unexpected declaration of war on the human species. Only time would tell if humanity’s technological edge and firepower would be enough to see them through this nightmare. No one wanted to believe something like this could happen in real life. It was like some kind of sicko seventies horror film come alive. Denial only took you so far though when the neighbor’s dog showed up in your yard carrying your neighbor’s hand in its jaws and eying you like a side of fresh beef.

Scott paused, leaning against the trunk of a tree, trying to catch his breath. He and his dad had been getting ready to seal up the house when the window of the study exploded inward and the squirrels swarmed inside. For all his dad’s weapons, they never had a chance. Dad was dead before he could get off a single shot. The only thing that saved Scott was the fact that his father had shoved him through the door into the hallway and slammed the door as he died. Scott had barely had time to grab the .357 from the table of weapons they had been loading. Yelling for his mom, he had sprinted through the house only to find her lying in on the kitchen floor in a pool of warm blood with a half dozen squirrels gnawing at her corpse. Their little heads had risen up, staring at him with hungry eyes. He darted passed them for the backdoor. One of them managed to jump onto him as he tore the backdoor open and stumbled into the yard. Scott had reached over his shoulder, grabbing the small animal by the fur of its neck and flung it off of him to the ground. His .357 thundered, turning the critter into a red patch in the grass. The others were bounding out of the house after him as he ran for the woods. Only the arrival of a sheriff’s car, which had likely come to evacuate his family, saved his life. The squirrels whirled about, going after the man in uniform instead of him. He’d heard gunshots and screams behind him but didn’t dare stop. Some part of his brain told him the woods might be safe since the animals were coming out of them to hunt mankind into extinction.

Now that he was here, he wasn’t so sure that choice had been a good idea. There were so many animals and so many kinds of them. Maybe not all of them had left. Who knew what was still lurking here just waiting on him to wonder into its path?

Breath came in ragged gasps as Scott tried to calm down. The only advantage he had was his brain. His best hope of surviving the night was to outthink the creatures hunting him. Well, that and his pistol. There were five rounds left in its chamber. Against something like squirrels, it was next to useless. It didn’t have the rate of fire to face anything that came at him in a pack, especially something that small and that fast. If he could just make it another mile or so old man Worley’s farm was on the other side of the woods. Worley and his dad had been friends for years. The old man was even tougher than his dad and was ex-military. He might be alive and fighting back. Worley would take him in, help him, if he could just get there.

Yanking his .357 from the pocket of his coat, Scott kept it out and ready as he took off running again. His chest hurt and his legs ached but the movement made the cold more bearable. It didn’t seem as bad as long as he kept moving. Something roared through the dark sky above him. Scott almost screamed, expecting some kind of monster bird to swoop down and kill him but then he saw that the noise was a helicopter, moving fast and low. It was headed south in the same direction he was going. He was determined not to die tonight and that helicopter gave him hope. Perhaps it would land somewhere nearby, or with a bit of luck he could figure out a way to signal it without shooting at it. Scott picked up his pace, pushing his exhausted body even harder.

***

Aboard the helicopter, Lieutenant William Gunter stared out the window. He sat up front beside the pilot and was grateful that they were flying above the woods now. The town they’d passed over a few minutes before had been a war zone. People running about wildly in the streets, chased by cats, dogs, rats . . . Hell, he thought he’d seen a pig tearing into a little old lady in a soiled Sunday dress. The power had been out but the fires burning up and down the main street had provided more than enough light for him to witness the horrors below. Here and there, patches of rednecks were trying to make a stand. One guy in a red flannel jacket stood in the parking lot of a gas station at the edge of town, spraying a pack of dogs that were closing in on him with a full auto. The bodies of several dogs lay twitching around the good old boy. That guy might have made it for a while longer if a hulking grizzly bear hadn’t emerged from the nearby trees and took his head off with a single swipe of one of its massive paws.

Gunter shook his head, chasing away the horrible, lingering images of what he had seen and tried to focus on his objective. His orders were to locate and extract Colonel Worley from the middle of all this madness. Only it wasn’t really the middle was it? The war between mankind and the animal kingdom was taking place everywhere. Sure, there were several safe zones and numerous secure bunkers but overall humanity wasn’t faring very well from what he had heard on the military bands so far. Maybe that would change now that the animals were beginning to lose the element of surprise. He supposed Colonel Worley must be a really important man for the brass to send a personal rescue party after him like this. Maybe he had saved some senator’s son once or taken a bullet for a former president. Gunter didn’t care. He just wanted this over with so he could get into the fight.

A large, secluded farm came into view. The bodies of more than a dozen horses covered the ground inside of the farm’s corral. It looked like the Colonel had put them all down before they’d had a chance to come after him.

“
Take us in,” Gunter ordered the pilot. He glanced over his shoulder into the rear of the helicopter where Riley and Kier sat. He nodded at them and they began to check over and ready the M-16s in their laps. Gunter’s plan was to go in, hard and fast, with the copter’s blades still spinning, grab the colonel, and get the Hades out.

The helicopter touched down in front of the house. Gunter and his two men burst from it, making a bee line for the house’s front door. It was caved in and barely hanging on its frame, held up by one stubborn hinge that refused to yield. It was a bad sign. Gunter entered the living room. He skidded to a halt surrounded by dead chickens and staring into the barrel of a P-90 submachine gun, aimed at his face.

“
Sir?” Gunter gasped.

“
At ease lieutenant,” the old man in front of him smirked, lowering his weapon. “Took you boys long enough to get here. It must be really bad out there.”

Gunter looked around at the blood splattered walls. “It’s about the same as here, Colonel.”

Colonel Worley grunted. “Best we get moving then. Those woods are full of squirrels. We do not want to be here if they decide to come calling.”

“
Squirrels?” Gunter repeated the word.

“
You deaf, boy?” Worley asked then kept right on talking without giving him a chance to answer. “Yeah, squirrels. They’re nasty critters. Small, fast, and deadly. They’re hunting in packs. I saw about three dozen of them tear apart the mailman at the end of my drive when all this crap started. I boarded myself up in here and I’ve been under siege by my own animals ever since. Thank God the squirrels have stayed away so far, but you can be assured they’re coming.”

Riley and Kier were holding defensive positions outside the door, their eyes focused on the surrounding tree line just like he had ordered them to do as Gunter followed Worley through it.

***

Scott could hear the helicopter on the ground or hovering somewhere really close by up ahead as he continued to run for Worley’s farm. He nearly wet himself as the monster stepped into his path. The beast stood ten feet tall and walked on two legs like a man. It stunk to high heavens and blood, not its own, soaked the long, brown hair covering its chest. Its yellow, feral eyes stared at him full of hunger and open hatred. Scott’s mind screamed the name “Bigfoot!” There could be no other explanation for what the thing was. Scoot was running too fast to stop or take a shot at the beast with his Magnum. He gave it a wide berth, zagging to the left and hoping to put some trees between himself and the creature. With a snarl, it leaped at him as he screamed and came tearing out of the woods into the clearing around old man Worley’s farm. The last thing Scott saw were the muzzle flashes of two M-16 rifles. Six bullets slammed into him, knocking the breath from his body. Two of them punctured his heart in an explosion of hot blood.