The Zoo

A pond sat in the middle of the zoo. Its unnaturally blue water held no fish, probably because the dye supplying the color was toxic. At its lowest point, the azure water was only three feet deep. In the center of the pond, a small island was home to a weeping willow tree, which derived its strength from the shallow waters. The sagging branches cast a porous shadow on a flock of flamingos searching for food they would never find.

Years had taken a toll on the tree, juggling it carelessly between life and death before finally settling on the latter. The long arms hung lazily in the water. Long ago, the bark had begun to turn gray and flake into the thunderstorm winds of summer. Massive roots hemorrhaged from the ground in a last attempt to impale the thriving life around it.

Around the man-made body of water stood a wooden fence, comprised of rotting beams secured to anchors situated twelve feet apart. The fence didn’t hold the birds in, but rather the small children out.

Six years previous, a child was found clogging the drainage pipe, his young body was morphed by the bloating from the water. A long legal battle waged after the incident. Millions of dollars later, a simple fence was constructed along with a warning sign.

The paint-chipped letters were not as formidable as they once were. As the warning faded, so did the memory of the police dragging a body bag from the drained, concrete hole.

Since the incident, the visitors decreased as the money was siphoned away from the animal exhibits and leaked into the court system. What was once a bustling, thriving weekend attraction had turned into a ghost town, haunted only by summer school field trips and parents hoping that lethargic animals would rub off on their children.

On a good day, the zoo would be filled with about three hundred guests at any given time, which was only a fraction of the maximum occupancy. When the people stopped showing up, many of the employees were laid off, which contributed to the overall feel of the dwindling facility.

One of the leaves twirling on the body of water caught the wind and escaped the grasp of the rippling water. Its dried-out, bowl-shaped body glided through the air and brushed up against David Trax’s face.

“You’d think they would have replaced that thing,” he said, motioning to the tree. If not for the leaf, he would have ignored the lifeless plant.

Mark Burkly responded with a short “yeah” and continued walking. He had always been labeled as quiet and socially awkward, but Dave didn’t mind. Their personalities fit together like an abnormal jigsaw puzzle. They complimented each other, and that was good enough for both of them.

They weaved between a mother pushing a stroller and a toddler chasing a group of pigeons searching for food on the bare paths. It was only when the child came within a foot of the birds that they relocated, and even then, their heads bobbed under a veil of courage; their years of human contact had made them fearless.

They circled the pond, maneuvering through the minefield of squirrels, courageous pigeons and goose droppings until they came to a sign that read REPTILE HOUSE in winding, serpentine letters.

The building was a drastic relief from the blistering heat outside. Air conditioners hummed softly and breathed recycled coolness into the deserted exhibit house.

They walked side by side, heads swiveling in the direction of every glass pane they passed. They both stopped in front of a large glass window. Dave read the sign hanging above the glass.

Eunectes murinus, also known as Anaconda, are most often found in the jungles of South America. Anacondas are the largest and most powerful snake in the world. Growing upwards of 40 feet, these reptiles consume a wide variety of animals; turtles, birds, mammals and fish. They kill their prey by way of constriction. When the animal exhales, the Anaconda tightens its grip, eventually suffocating the creature..

The snake dangled from a tree in the corner, the length of its body floating in the air just a few feet from the surface of the grimy water. Its eyes were alive with intensity and screamed I’m dangerous to all the souls peering in.

Dave didn’t realize it, but he stood farther away from this exhibit than the previous. The snake seemed to examine him, even though the shards of coal in its head never moved.

“I don’t think I’d want one of these things as a pet” Mark said.

“I think it’d be pretty useful. I could finally get rid of that damn dog next door. The stupid thing just barks all day” he responded. He stared at the snake longer, being sucked into the coal eyes deeper each second he kept the gaze. He was snapped out of his day dream when Mark called him from the other side of the exhibit.

“Hey, check this thing out. It’s creepy as hell.” Mark was focused on a lizard with the rear end of a cricket sticking out of its mouth. With a lightning fast movement the lizard brought its tongue under and around the insect, swallowing it in one swift motion.

As quickly as the lizard had swallowed its lunch, it lost its footing on the branch and fell to the dirt below. Convulsions ripped through its scaly body, sending the hind legs in every direction. When the shaking stopped, one lifeless eye stared at the ceiling.

“Huh. That was weird. Must have choked to death”

“What do you say we get some food?” Dave asked.

“Perfect timing” he said, laughing, and headed for the door.

It was hotter than when they had first arrived. The humidity sat in their lungs and made it hard to breathe. They both stopped and looked at each other.

Something was wrong. Silence struck Dave’s ears with the intensity of an explosion. The air was free of the high pitch calls from the aviary. The low buzzing of insects was absent from the moist afternoon air.

“Do you get a weird feeling?” Dave asked.

“Yeah. Where is everyone?” Mark’s question made him realize that the path was deserted. He had noticed the lack of sounds, but paid no attention to the empty sidewalk in front of him. What was once a bustling walkway was now as deserted as the soundless atmosphere.

“What do you say we get outa here?”

“I wouldn’t argue.” Dave responded.

They continued on the path the way they had come. After a minute of silent, uncomfortable walking, Dave spotted something on the path ahead. He stopped, battling his mind as to what the object was.

It couldn’t be

He remained perfectly still, his eyes refusing to abandon what lay in the distance.

Mark continued walking. When he realized that Dave was no longer beside him, he turned. “What is it?” he asked.

Without a word in response, Dave raised his hand and pointed.

Mark followed his finger, spotting the same thing that made his friend stop mid stride. “Oh my god. Is that what I think it is?” His voice trailed off into the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“I think it’s an arm,” Dave said, but he couldn’t be sure. The object was just visible around the corner.

He broke into a sprint, dashing the fifty yards in seconds. The adrenaline coursing through his body sent his legs into a fury, allowing him the ability to sprint the distance faster than he could have on a normal occasion.

He turned the corner at full speed and came to an immediate stop. What he saw acted like an invisible barrier and pushed him back a few steps. His stomach flipped inside his gut. He felt the urge to vomit, but his mind wouldn’t allow his eyes to pull away.

Sprinkled on the path were bodies. Fifty, maybe sixty. The remains were revenants. They looked as though they had passed into hell just to be spat back into the mortal world. White, bloodless skin was tightly stretched across faces that knew only terror.

His liquid legs finally gave in and sloshed under his body weight. Before he knew his lower body had betrayed him, he could feel the concrete colliding with his hip.

He opened his mouth to scream, but he couldn’t muster a sound. Instead, the terror remained in his head, haunting him every second he was forced to look at the war scene before him.

The woman closest to him, the owner of the arm, was only about thirty. Her blond hair covered what was left of her face. The only quality about her that looked remotely alive was her eyes, which was the hardest to accept. She had been alive. Two blue moons stared up at him as if begging for a reason for her demise. He didn’t have one.

In desperation, he looked for the rise and fall of her chest and listened for slight breath sounds that would prove is suspicion wrong. She didn’t move. He considered checking her pulse, but he couldn’t force himself to reach down and touch her. She seemed so far removed from his situation, but he knew she was so close. Horrifyingly close.

Dave heard Mark rush up behind him, stop, stumble back and bring his hand to his mouth to muffle his gasp. Through his fingers he said the only thing that came to mind. “Oh my God.” The phrase was ridiculous to him. He didn’t believe in God, but it was the only way he knew how to respond to what he saw.

Mark started to hyperventilate. His short, erratic breaths were the only thing that Dave could hear. He struggled to catch his breath, but it was too fast for his efforts. He knelt down next to Dave.

“What could have happened?” Mark asked.

Dave didn’t respond. His eyes were still hopelessly scanning the corpse in front of him. He hoped for a miracle, that everyone lying on the ground would get up, shake the dirt from their clothes and continue their Tuesday at the zoo.

“We’ve got to figure this out.” Mark continued. “It must be something in the air” He brought the bottom of his shirt to his mouth and continued his rapid, shallow, breathing through the interwoven threads. He spoke again. “I mean, think about it. We were inside the reptile house when this happened. The air must have been filtered. We’re still alive while everyone else is dead.”

Dave didn’t respond. His eyes were transfixed. Seconds passed before he finally broke his silence. “Shhh.” He brought his finger up to his mouth, giving him the universal sign for shut the hell up. He waited.

“What?” Mark asked.

“It’s not in the air. Feel the ground”

He stopped and held his breath. “It’s vibrating” he said.

Dave looked at the ground, examining the concrete and struggling to feel the slight tremors. Something struck his eye through his peripheral vision. Next to the path, a blade of grass shook as though death was frenziedly shaking the life from it. He stepped back when he saw the color. The green blade was slowly turning yellow. The color of death started at the top and ran down its length until it looked like the unfortunate victim of a year-long drought.

I’m losing it.

His worries were suddenly replaced with a sense of dread. Like a tidal wave, the field of grass to his side rushed at him in a sea of yellow. The flowing color ran through the walkway and continued on the opposite side. The wave stopped when it reached the waterline and didn’t send a single ripple across the tranquil water.

His eyes followed the wave up and stopped on the weeping willow. For the first time that day, he doubted his eyes. The withered and gray weeping willow, losing the war against death, was now as green as the life sucked from the grass. The branches reaching down to the water bulged with life. The bark on the tree came alive and looked like thousands of cockroaches swarming the length of the trunk. The light from the sun gave the insect bark the illusion of movement.

“Mark.” Dave said and pointed at the island. “It’s the tree.” He knew how crazy it sounded, but it made perfect sense in his mind. The tree was the missing link of the puzzle.

“What about the tree?” Mark asked.

“When we got here, the thing was almost dead. We go into one exhibit, we come out, and it’s more alive than it’s ever been. It looks like it should be in a damn rainforest somewhere!”

“You’re saying it’s the tree?” Mark’s voice was dominated by apprehension. “I know this is a lot to handle, but let’s try to keep our heads about this.”

Dave’s voice became sharp. “Think about it. Everyone is dead” he paused, “even the animals, the bugs, birds. Everything!” The grass was dying and moving toward the island, but the tree itself wasn’t hurt. It’s sucking the life from everything on the ground.”

Mark stared at him in disbelief, but Dave could tell that he was starting to accept the explanation. “Whether or not it’s the tree, I still want to get the hell out of here.”

“Maybe we can get help for these people.” Mark said.

“They’re dead Mark” Dave said. “But we still have to tell someone.”

There was only one exit gate in the zoo, at the south end of the pond. From where they were, they couldn’t see the gate, but they knew it was just around the bend. A line of trees hid safety from view.

They ran. Their legs felt like rubber from the adrenaline that pumped into their bodies like a faucet.

They rounded the corner and saw the gate a hundred yards ahead. The bodies were more numerous here. In some spots, the pale corpses were piled two and three deep as though the living climbed over the dead to escape.

Dave spun when he heard Mark fall. Gravel on the ground sliced into his hand and knee.

“You alright?” he asked.

“My leg gave out” Mark responded.

He struggled to get up. Dave walked to him and put a hand under his arm and hoisted him to his feet.

“Are you getting tired too? Mark asked.

“Yeah. Now are you starting to believe my theory?” Dave asked.

“I would never have believed that I’d say a giant tree, sucking the life out of the ground makes sense, but life is full of surprises.” He laughed and swatted the loose rocks that were embedded in his skin.

“It’s not too far now.” Dave said.

“I’m not too sure if I can run. I’m so tired. It feels like I just got done jogging a marathon.”

“Fine, but we’ve got to walk fast.”

“I think I can do that” Mark said. His breathing had become labored. He bent over, his hands resting on his thigh, and struggled for air.

They continued on. Mark walked with the stagger of a drunken man. With each step, his legs sprawled uncontrollably, but he somehow managed to keep his balance. They continued on, weaving in and out of the bodies.

Gravity protested with the unbalanced steps Mark took, and sent him to the ground again.

“Mark. Get up. We have to keep going” he said. Without meaning to, his voice came across much harsher.

He looked at him from the ground with hopeless eyes. “I don’t think I can.” Sweat was beginning to bead on his brow. As he blinked, a droplet of sweat rolled into his eye. He wiped it away with his scraped hand.

Dave bent down and locked his elbow with his friend’s. The muscles in his legs strained as he tried to lift him. For a split second, they burned, sending spasms of pain through his spinal cord and up into his face. The pain seemed to resonate in his cheeks before it found its way down to his calf again. Before he knew it, he was on the ground alongside his friend.

In a surge of rage, Dave punched the concrete. Pain ran the length of his arm, but his sudden rage choked it before he could realize. He felt defeated.

“Dave” Mark said,”we have to keep going. It’s not that far. We can get there.” He didn’t notice the tear roll down Dave’s face.

“Let’s go,” he responded. In one last effort, he tried to stand, but his legs burned. He could have sworn that somehow his blood had been drained and substituted with acid.

Mark watched his failed attempt and didn’t bother trying himself. “You’re wasting the little energy you have left.”

He didn’t respond, instead, he lowered his head, brought himself up on all fours, and began to pull himself. Pebbles bit into his hands and the bare skin on his knees. He ignored the pain and continued.

Minutes passed in the guise of hours. It was an eternity before either of them talked. Mark broke the silence. “Can you believe we’re crawling through a zoo?”

Dave laughed. When he drew in another breath, his chest felt tight, as though his skin was stretched to the point of tearing. Instead of racking his brain to come up with a witty retort, he thought aloud. “Since we’re crawling, we have to more points of contact with the ground. Instead of just our feet, now we’re losing energy through our hands.”

Before he responded, Mark let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. “Dave, I’ve been thinking about it; I think you should be a comedian. You know, do a little a little writing, a little standup.” he paused, “Oh yeah, never mind. You tried to that a little while ago.”

Dave could almost hear the sides of his face curl up into a grin. He was always so amused with himself.

The ground emitted gentle vibrations, sending ripples of flesh up their arms and into their cheeks. Though they felt pleasant, both knew it was anything but.

The front entrance gate loomed thirty feet ahead.

They continued crawling, not noticing that their pace had decreased in half. Both maneuvered through the body-laden path. Dave kept his eyes closed whenever he could; looking at the faces was too difficult. The taut skin made them look like they were soulless and starving for the life that was taken from them. He couldn’t help but imagine his own lifeless eyes staring up into the heavens, begging for salvation that he wouldn’t find.

He was forced to open them when his hand hit a body lying in front of him. When he saw who he had hit, he shut his eyes again in defiance; it was one of the small children he saw running earlier. Now the little girl lay lifeless in his path, her face pale white with her sunburned nose looking more severe against the colorless backdrop. He kept moving.

“We’re almost there. Just a few feet left” Dave shouted. The reassurance was intended for him just as much as Mark, but it made him feel even more uncertain.

He felt cold. He told himself that it was the temperature outside and ignored the heat waves rising from the blacktop. He looked at his hands and noticed they were turning a specter shade of white, almost translucent. If he squinted hard enough, perhaps he could see arteries carrying less blood. It wasn’t until he looked at them that he noticed they had gone numb. They didn’t have much time.

“We’ve got to keep moving!”

Time crawled slower than they did, making the excruciating progress even more painful. He never took his eyes off the gate ahead.

Just twenty feet, you can make it.

He looked back; Mark had fallen behind. His face was as white as his bloodless hands. His eyes were sunken, rimmed with purple and barely open. It looked as though Death was playing a sick game; whispering “you can make it” in his ear and pushing down on his back with his scythe.

“Come on M--” His voice cracked. “Come on!” He could feel his vocal chords tighten; he was quickly losing the ability to talk.

Ten feet

The gate stood ajar. The hulking metal frame was painted a dark green and dull. It didn’t reflect the sunlight, but rather absorbed it, using the energy to grow larger and more intimidating. It reminded him of the tree.

In one final movement, he mustered his strength, summoning forth every ounce of drive left in his body and swung the gate open. The end was in sight.

Just beyond the gate, a series of bushes wrapped in a crescent shape around the outskirts of the parking lot. He struggled to hoist himself up to see over, but his arms felt as though they were about to buckle. He decided against trying a second time.

Suddenly, he heard a sound coming from the parking lot, just beyond the shrubbery. The crunch, crunch, crunch was somebody walking on the gravel.

He opened his mouth to call out, but only a wheeze escaped. As if to punish his attempt, a sharp pain shot through his chest, causing him to wince in agony. His lungs went into spasm as if the air he was breathing was filled with biological toxins. He didn’t have much time.

The scraping of Mark’s shoes stopped before Dave realized he had been subconsciously monitoring the sound. He didn’t look back; he knew what happened.

Mark was dead.

He let out a grunt, laced with frustration, anger, and sadness. Harnessing the emotion as fuel, he continued on.

The hedge before him was lined with thorns. He dismissed the thought and continued. Each needle punctured his skin, but he was free of pain. A large needle scraped against his forehead. Blood soaked into his eyes, staining his vision crimson. He commanded his hand to wipe the blood from his eyes, but the energy needed to complete such a task refused to surface.

Exhaustion tore into his body, assaulting every muscle with a thousand knives and tearing them into unusable ribbons. He wrestled with the idea of laying his head down, closing his eyes and drifting into a deep sleep but the same thought kept repeating itself in his head:

Almost. There. Almost. There.

He pulled himself over the bush. The thorns ripped into his stomach, refreshing the shrub with the last remaining life force in his body. He cleared the bush and fell onto a curb, rolled and found himself on the concrete. His head took the brunt of the impact. He struggled to remain conscious. On any normal day, the landing would not have affected him, but today the blow spread halos across his vision. A river of blood running from his head filled the cement cracks and ran toward his feet.

Someone help me.

He didn’t expect anyone to hear the thoughts, but a part of him was hoping that someone in the parking lot was telepathic. He managed to crane his neck and look around.

What he saw drove his head back into the ground.

The parking lot was filled with cars. Heat emanated from the metal in waves, creating the look of an expansive, technology-overrun desert. The concrete was littered with bodies. Most of them were beneath cars, as though they were trying to flee the life-sucking roots of the malicious plant.

His breathing became more labored. He couldn’t feel the skin on his face burning, but he could smell burning flesh. The searing concrete sent a tingle of sensation into his cheek, but it soon disappeared.

Before he closed his eyes for the final time, a crow walked through his line of vision. Its talons made a crunch as it walked over the pieces of gravel strewn about the concrete. The tip of its wings turned white, followed by its torso, and finally replaced the color of its head. For a few seconds, it fought, falling, picking itself up and stumbling again. Finally, its beak smacked the ground and its eyes closed.

Just beyond the dead crow, he saw a pile of other white birds, lying on the ground, struggling for breath.