The McClane Apocalypse Book 4 (40 page)

“You guys go on upstairs and get
whatever you can get,” he tells them. “I’ll be right
back.”

He turns to go, snags one
of the rifles from a fallen man. It’s a bolt action 30-06.
He
loots
his pocket for more ammo and keeps going. He’d taken a box of
.223 rounds for his M16 and a box of 30-06 cartridges from
upstairs. His plan all along was to confiscate that rifle
from
whoever
had it. He’d
guessed
that someone had a 30-06 in the gym
by
the loud,
distinctive crack. Apparently the man had not been proficient with
it, but Cory is. It’s a good rifle, good for long range shots. He
doesn’t wait for an
answer
but leaves, using the front door.

Cory hopes the Marine and his two
female companions don’t stay there for the night. It’s hard telling
how many others could’ve been with this group and just weren’t
there for the big game. Semper Fi is probably smart enough to
figure that one out. Cory also has no intention of coming back here
to ration out the booty.

Jet is waiting for him. His
horse needs medical care, and Cory has no wish to make him wait any
longer. He was on his way to the Columbus Zoo to take shelter for
the night, so he’s hoping that he’ll find animal medical supplies
there. When he’d
chosen
that destination, he hadn’t known he would need it
for that reason. He’d
simply
wanted an obscure place to hole up for the night
where he’d be safe and, more importantly, not bothered by
anyone.

He unties his stallion and
walks beside him, wincing every time the horse missteps or
falters
. Stopping
for just long enough to give him a break, Cory adheres a patch of
material on the horse’s wound with some tape. They are leaving a
trail of blood
drips
, easily traceable in daylight to
their final destination. He pulls down his night vision goggles
again. Damn Dog plods along beside him.

They arrive on the
northeast side of the zoo as he cautiously makes his way down the
hill toward it. The expansive blacktopped parking lot sits empty of
vehicles, all except for the two abandoned trams meant for
escorting people too lazy to walk to the entrance. The blacktop
looks as if someone has seeded it in a half-assed attempt at
growing a
lush
pasture. It is damn near
deep
enough to mow. Poison oak grows up
and around a shelter where people could wait for the tram to pick
them up. A sun-faded poster for a polar bear exhibit is hanging
crookedly beneath the ivy. The front gates of the zoo stand wide
open, but there are no workers present to sell him a ticket for
admittance. The once decorative grasses and ornamental landscaping
has become disorganized and overgrown. Long tendrils of dead grass
poke up through the cracks of the pavement near the entryway. The
sign overhead that reads “Columbus Zoo” hangs askew and is missing
the last “O.” To his left is the elaborate entrance to a water park
called Zoombezi Bay. He bypasses the turn-style entrance like the
ones used in subway systems and uses an employee breezeway three
stations over to gain his entry. Directly in front of him is a pond
in the center of the zoo’s massive layout. Cory can hear ducks
quacking to one another, likely floating lazily there. One of them
could make a good dinner. He’s not too fond of fancy things like
pate de foie gras, but hell, duck meat’s not too bad cooked on an
open fire. A screech, likely from an owl or some other exotic bird,
pierces through the night sky.

Grabbing a map of the zoo
from the plastic display rack, Cory quickly scans it and comes up
with squat for a med center. He’ll have to find the “zoo personnel
only” areas on his own. It’s not like they would’ve let people tour
those places unattended. He heads to the right, using a flashlight
when he needs to find his way better. He comes to a sign that
reads, “African Elephants,” but no majestic animals
bleat
through
their trunks to greet him. According to the map, he’s in the
African animals section of the zoo. If he veers off further to the
right and up the hill, he should come to the children’s petting zoo
and the North American animals. He remembers going to a zoo like
this with Em when she was young. There is usually a section
in
each zoo with
domesticated farm animals. She’d
marveled
at the baby goats, ponies,
chickens and horses. Little did either of them know that farm life
would become their futures. A gurgle of thunder ripples
forebodingly in the distance. That’s just what they need. Damn Dog
even whines a few times. He needs to find some shelter for the
night, in out of the rain or icy rain more likely since the
temperature feels like it’s hovering near forty degrees, maybe
less.

When they reach the crest
of the hill, surely enough, a faded red barn awaits them. The
petting zoo is unequivocally and permanently closed. He pulls open
one of the wide barn doors and flashes his light inside. A small
swarm of bats swoop and dive at Cory and his group and, more
likely, his flashlight. It’s all clear. Apparently nobody has
thought to take refuge in the zoo. There is even a horse
stall,
and luckily
no dead carcass awaits them there. However, there are bales of hay
stacked at the other end of the barn that he’ll make good use of as
long as it hasn’t molded. This barn is like something out of a
catalog for gentlemen farms. There aren’t any long, wide cracks
between the wall slats that let in a cold draft. No dirty floors
with hay, grain and specks of straw scattered around. It’s dusty
and covered in cobwebs but not anything like the barns
at
the farm which
were built for function and use and not
aesthetics
and grandeur to impress
city slickers. The floor is even cemented. To his left are small
animal cages, some of which open to the paddock.

He leads his limping stallion into the
stall, not bothering to shut the gate behind them. Cory quickly
removes the load of supplies of which is being transported by Jet.
Then the tack, saddle and pad are next and get hung over the short
oak wall of the roomy stall. The bridle comes next which earns him
a grateful nicker. He rummages through his supplies and lights his
small lantern. Then he inspects the stack of old hay, smells it for
mold, ascertains it’s still good and gives two flakes to his horse.
He closes and locks the stall door this time upon
retreat.

“Let’s go,” he says firmly
to Damn
Dog,
who jumps to her four feet.

There has to be a medical
facility for the animals of a zoo of this size right here on
site
. He needs a
few shots or even a dose of relaxing sedative so he can dig out
that small bullet if it’s still in there. Then he can stitch up his
friend. He extinguishes the lantern and closes and latches the wide
barn door. Jet will chomp contentedly on that hay. He could
probably care less about his wound now. Doc always gives injured
livestock
hay
to work on. He calls it nervous food. It helps to take their
minds off of their pain and eases their discomfort.

He and his dog sprint
around the zoo, this time with his night vision gear down so that
he doesn’t run headlong into the wall of an animal pen. They trot
through the North American animals section of the zoo where Cory
sees what’s left of two polar bears’ carcasses, which aren’t much
more than snippets of hide and bone still in their glass
enclosures. When he gets to the grizzly bear display, however, he’s
surprised to find them gone. As a matter of fact, he runs
through
section
after section finding the same empty cages and gates. The Asia
display, Congo, the snake enclosure, which is a long maze of a
building with empty glass display cases, and finally the Australia
area are all the same,
empty
. The zoo’s employees must’ve freed
the remaining living animals, or at least what they could. Perhaps
some of them escaped on their own, realizing that their handlers
were no longer going to be sliding open those secretive hinged
doors and rewarding them with morsels of raw chicken, hay, grains
or whatever other sustenance they’d needed. The idea of running
into a grizzly bear or a rhinoceros is slightly humorous, although
also a tad creepy.

Arriving at the aquarium,
he decides to go inside out of idle curiosity. As soon as the door
opens, a smell so foul hits him that he gags and hides his nose and
mouth with the flap of his shirt. Damn Dog
mewls
softly and swings her head
back and forth.

“Come on,” he badgers her and raises
his eyebrows. “You know you want to know.”

The taunt must work because
she follows him in but stays
low
to her belly. The massive water
tanks are green, blending in with his night vision. Cory removes
his goggles and turns on his flashlight instead. Inside of the
murky tank that goes on for probably close to a fifty yards are the
decayed and decomposed remains of three manatees. Enough seen. He
backs right out the door again with Damn Dog on his
heels.

“Why’d you want to go in there?” he
reprimands his dog with a grin. She just looks at him and whines
once before they trot on.

Finally,
when he figures he’s never going to find the
veterinary care building, he does. He lets himself in by ramming
the lock on the rear door and busting it with the butt-stock of his
rifle. The composite material of it is
tough
. It can take and give quite
the hit. Kelly and John have told him some funny stories over the
years regarding that particular piece of the gun and what
they’d
had
to do with theirs. He clicks on the flashlight again and
begins a thorough search. It doesn’t take long to discover the
items that he needs. Apparently most people weren’t raiding their
big city zoos for medical supplies for themselves and their
animals. He actually can’t believe his family hadn’t thought of
this before. They’d sure as hell
raided
enough other places over the
years.

On top of a supply cabinet, Cory finds
a discarded canvas bag and fills it with some needles and thread
and bandages. Twenty-three small bottles of antibiotics from inside
a metal cabinet go in the bag next. Cory knows damn well that
animal antibiotics can also be used to treat humans. Next he rams
seven large tubes of antibiotic creams, more unopened packages of
bandaging, and clear medical tape into the bag, stuffing it full to
the gills. Surely that should work for supplies. He’s no doctor
like Reagan, Doc or even Simon, who is more nutty professor than
doctor, but he knows enough to take care of most of the animals on
the farm.

A bolt of lightning streaks
across the black sky, and within a few minutes he can hear
the
rain
tapping against the metal roof. He doesn’t mind the snow, but
he sure as hell hates rain. He’ll need to come back in daylight for
more supplies. He jogs at a steady pace back to the petting zoo
barn and wastes no time prepping and also sanitizing and cleaning
his dirty hands. It’s still relatively early, but he has a long
night ahead of him. Damn Dog takes up residence lying near the
barn’s partially open door and doesn’t move. She’s got his back
while he attends to his ghastly task.

A few hours later when he’s
lying in the hay with the dog, and Jet is sewn up and resting
peacefully, Cory hears the familiar clucks and murmurs of chickens
on their perches somewhere in the barn. He hadn’t spotted them
earlier, so they must’ve been outside free ranging. They make these
little sounds like
coos
and gentle
clucks
at night to one another when they
are tucked away snug as bugs in their rugs. Chicken breast sure
would taste great tomorrow with the can of lima beans he’d taken
from the gym pukes. He falls asleep with a grin on his face and a
dog on his feet.

Chapter Nineteen

Simon

There are three vehicles
full of McClane warriors headed into the city of
Coopertown
to take
on the creeps
at
the Target store. The men from there had ambushed
the McClane medical clinic. They’d come there to kill them. They’d
come there to rob them. They’d come there to take their women. And,
unfortunately for these rats, every man in the Ranger caravan is
willing to lay down his life to ensure that never happens, Simon
included.

Three men including Paul
from the condo community are in the truck behind them. In the bed
of the
truck
are another four men from the different sectors in
town
. The Reynolds
brothers ride together in their small car with the muffler that is
much quieter than their big
dually
pick-up
truck from their farm. Zach Johnson and his friend
are with them. They’ve all been
thoroughly
trained by the Rangers, each
and every one of them. These men have gone at one time or another
on missions with them, and the Rangers had deemed them ready and
worthy in the field.