Authors: Iain Rob Wright
“
He’s still up there, Dad.”
“
I know, just keep down.”
Joe pulled into third-gear and steered the vehicle toward the car park’s exit. It was only a few hundred yards away, but Joe struggled to see it through the broken windscreen and the thick sheets of rain beyond it. He picked up more speed despite all of his senses telling him to slow down. By fourth gear he was already doing sixty and weaving between the wrecks of abandoned cars.
The silverback smashed its fists down on the car again, hitting the windscreen dead-centre. The glass fell away in clumps, covering the bonnet and the car’s interior.
With the windscreen suddenly gone, Joe could see the road.
He saw the brick wall coming up at seventy miles an hour.
Joe stamped on the brakes so hard that a sickening tingle went through his entire skeleton as he was thrown forward in his seat. The car’s tires bit at the road, screeching in protest as they skidded ineffectually. Joe closed his eyes and clutched at the steering wheel, hard enough that his knuckles went white.
The car continued its skid.
The wall got closer.
With a violent lurch the rubber tires finally found a grip and brought the car to a sudden, sliding stop. The whole vehicle rocked forward on its suspension. Joe’s face hit the steering wheel and sent stars through his vision. He pulled himself away, dazed and bleeding. It felt as though his already-damaged nose had been pushed to the back of his skull.
The engine petered out and Joe looked out at the road. He saw the silverback lying against the brick wall, only several feet away, a spattering of blood and matted fur mingling with the flowing rainwater of the road. The creature was stunned after being thrown clear of the car, but still conscious. Joe’s vision swirled as he tried to stay awake himself. His hand shook as he reached for the key to the ignition. Shook as they turned on the engine. Shook even harder as he engaged the reverse gear.
Joe stepped down on the accelerator.
The car shot backward.
After twenty metres, he jammed down the brake, tires screeching.
Into first gear and moving forward.
Second gear.
The car reached thirty.
Joe pulled into third.
“
Danny, get down on the floor!”
The brakes went on.
Wheels skidded on the wet road.
The car crashed.
Joe was out for several seconds before he managed to open his eyes. At first all he saw was white, until he realised that it was just the airbag deployed from the steering wheel. He pulled and pushed at it until, finally, it began to hiss and deflate. When it was finally out of the way, Joe screamed.
“
It’s alright, Dad,” said Danny climbing forward into the passenger seat beside him. “He’s dead.”
Joe looked at the silverback’s face staring back at him from the end of the bonnet and saw that the sparkle of light had indeed left the magnificent beast’s eyes. Crushed between the wall and the vehicle, the mighty Nero, oldest inhabitant of the zoo, had probably died instantly. Somehow Joe was glad about that despite their differences.
“
You okay?”
Danny nodded and smiled. “That was cool!”
Joe laughed and threw his head back against the seat rest. “It certainly was something, alright.”
“
Can we get out of here now? I haven’t watched wrestling in ages.”
Joe turned the key in the ignition and was astonished when the engine came back to life yet again. After such a collision it was almost a miracle that the vehicle was still willing to go on. He didn’t think about it too much as he reversed away from the wall and pulled out onto the main road, but he was thankful for his blessings. From the look of the chaos all around him, most others were not so lucky. Battered cars lay mangled and twisted against each other in a never-ending pile-up of ruined steel, while torn bodies littered the crimson-stained streets like confetti. The world as they knew it was over now, the natural order forever skewed by the events of the last few days. Joe and Danny were entering a new world, one where they were at the bottom of the food chain and animals, both domesticated and wild, roamed the lands with savage hunger.
But there was one thing that gave Joe hope, a hint that that humanity was not quite ready to go meekly into that good night. For almost every human corpse that lay dead amongst the ruins, there was also that of a dead animal. The mutilated dogs, cats, and various other domesticated animals that littered the sidewalks told Joe one thing was for certain: people were fighting back.
There were still blessings to be found in this world, and Joe’s biggest one was sitting in the seat right beside him. Joe couldn’t help but smile as he and his son started their journey into the unknown, their journey into the Animal Kingdom.
Epilogue
Randall could hardly breathe amidst the cloying, black smoke. It burnt at his eyes and dried out his throat. He didn’t know what had started the fire, but he had a feeling that Victor had rigged some kind of explosive in case of his death.
And I witnessed that he is very much dead, indeed.
Randall placed his fingers against his temples and tried to think. He would have to leave this room soon, but then what? The animals were probably waiting for him, ready to rip him apart as soon as he stepped outside the room, and even if they were not they would most likely be waiting for him outside the building?
But I have to leave, regardless. Either that or stay and burn
.
Randall stood up from the desk, and hissed as he accidentally placed his broken ankle down on the floor. He pulled it back up and hopped over to the door. The smoke was hot and blinding, coming from under the door in thick, velvety waves. He closed his eyes and fumbled in his pocket for the key to the room’s lock. When he found it, he wasted no time in unlocking the door.
Outside was a disorientating mixture of bright-orange flame and jet-black smoke. Randall looked left and right and saw no animals, but also saw no exit. The corridor was aflame at both ends. In front of him was the seminar room. It was no doubt where the fire had started and the books and wooden shelves would have provided all the fuel the fire needed, but now it was simply a smouldering black husk and no longer in flames. Randall hopped through the charred doorway and instantly felt some relief from the heat of the corridor. Wind rushed in from the far side of the room, and where there had once been a wall with a window, there was now only a hole. The entire side of the building had come away. Randall hopped forward again and fell onto his hands and knees as the floor beneath him gave way.
The floor was brittle and blackened. He would have to be careful where he put his weight lest he fall right through it. No plan in his mind other than to remain in this room while the rest of the building burned. Perhaps the fire would finally attract help and bring someone to his aid.
Randall crawled forward and encountered the grizzly sight of Victor’s corpse. The man’s body was crisped right down to the bone and his skeleton was blackened and exposed in several spaces. One of the body’s arms was completely missing, but Randall assumed that it was ripped off by the animals before the fire began.
Over at the far end of the room, Randall reached the floor’s ending. On his chest, he pushed forward until his arms and head were hanging over the edge. The air was fresher here and Randall took the opportunity to take in a series of deep breaths.
Beneath him the animals went wild as they spotted him. Hooting, barking, screeching and making all manner of inhuman noises, they looked up at him with hunger in their eyes. Whilst the army had thinned, it was still approaching a hundred in its number, mostly smaller creatures like warthogs and llamas. They surrounded the building and never once took their eyes off him.
Randall pushed himself back up onto his knees and then slowly onto his one good leg. He looked down at the animals and spat. The globule of spit was lost in the billowing smoke and he did not know if it hit a target. Randall laughed.
“
You will not have me! A leader chooses his own death.” Randall placed a hand over his heart as if he were addressing the nation from some great palatial balcony. “And as any great leader would do, I choose to go down with my ship.”
Randall stretched his arms out wide on either side of him and looked up and the grey sky. At that exact moment the gentle drizzle burst into a full-grown downpour. Randall took it as a sign. “Deliver me, Lord, from my enemies. They shall not have me.” He looked down at the baying animals below. “You hear that, you fuckers? You shall not have me.”
Randall leapt, expecting to feel the wind through his hair as he plummeted towards salvation, towards the next life.
All he felt was the floor as his entire body splintered upon impact. Not a single bone in his body would move as he lay there – but he wasn’t dead. He knew that much. As he lay there, he saw an ant scuttle towards him and into his ear. The feeling was intense and vivid. Somehow the fall had not dulled his senses. As the animals surround his body and came closer, he knew that it was going to be the worst and final agony of his life as they began to eat him alive.
The pain was a hundred times worse than anything he imagined.
It went on forever.
––––––––––––––
SPECIAL
BONUS
CONTENT
Six short stories by Iain Rob Wright set in the Animal Kingdom universe:
CLOCKING
OFF
HOWARD’S
WOOD
THE
HUNT
HOME
BEHOLD, THE
BEASTS
OF
WAR
SANCTUARY
Plus an original short story by Eric S. Brown
NIGHT OF
THE
SQUIRRELS
CLOCKING
OFF
“
So when will you be able to go back to work?” Jeff’s wife asked, sitting herself down on the sofa opposite him. Jeff shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich—cheese and ham. “God knows. Things were pretty bad when I left. The whole plant was billowing smoke a mile into the air.”
His wife raised her eyebrows. “Do you need to get yourself checked out? What if you’ve breathed in something nasty?”
Jeff had been concerned with the very same thing earlier. Stote Investments, part of the US conglomerate, Black Remedy Foundation, held patents for thousands of different chemicals and compounds, most of which were manufactured right at the processing plant where Jeff worked. Today, when a flash fire took out half the building in a few short minutes, the first thought on his mind was whether or not he was being exposed to something that could kill him—some nasty disease that would start with a tickling cough, but end with his face melting off. Despite being shaken when he had returned home, so far Jeff physically felt fine (aside from his eyes being a little red and sore, irritated from the airborne soot of the fire).
Jeff shrugged. “The foreman told everyone to go home and call a Doctor if we develop any symptoms, but he told us all that the only chemical that was released into the air was a compound called SIRT1. It’s a substance found in red wine apparently—possibly a cure for diabetes, they say. Completely harmless from what the guys on the mixing-floor told me.”
His wife sighed. “Let’s hope so. I really wish you could work maintenance somewhere else—somewhere safer.”
Jeff leant forward in his armchair and patted his wife on the knee. “This whole thing is likely just a bunch of animal protesters kicking off at Black Remedy as usual. Far as I know, they don’t even use test subjects anymore, but that doesn’t stop the hippies targeting them. Whole thing gets on my tits, if I’m honest, I don’t mind telling you.”
Jeff’s wife squeezed his hand on her knee. “I know it does, honey. People should just concentrate on their own lives instead of causing trouble. How’s your boss handling things—Mr. Rankin?”
“
Randle. It’s Mr. Randle. Lucky for him, he was off doing meetings all morning. I think he was at the zoo signing off on some investment deal. Fat git probably would’ve had a heart attack if he’d been there when the fire started—if his asthma didn’t kill him first, that is.”
Jeff’s wife stood up from the sofa, her middle-aged knees popping audibly. “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now, sweetheart. I’ll go put the kettle on while you put your feet up. Lord knows you deserve it.”
“
Okay, luv, thanks,” said Jeff. Resting back into the worn padding of his favourite chair felt good, relaxing. Maybe a couple days off wouldn’t be so bad. He could catch up on some reading—he’d been meaning to tackle Under the Dome for months now—or he could watch the Rugby; maybe do both. The plant would probably be operational again in a day or two, but until then there was no need for getting worked up.