As he feared, the sound attracts more of the creatures. They come out from behind concession stands and the tilt-a-whirl ride. The water splashes all around him as the undead jump into the river. He ignores the ones behind him and focuses his fire on those in his path, the ones capable of reaching him before he can float by. Chunks of green meat spray through the air as Haroon pumps and fires the shotgun as fast as he can.
The ground quakes around him and a rumbling fills the air. Once Haroon hears a shrill trumpet call, he knows what’s coming. The zombie elephant crashes through a fallen roller coaster track and dives into the water, trampling human corpses into the brown murk. Its flesh is black and soggy, riddled with pus and sores. The flesh on the left side of its abdomen is missing, revealing the ribcage and rancid organs. From within the creature’s stomach, the arms of a zombie clown reach out through its rib bones. Decades ago, the elephant had swallowed a circus clown whole in order to eat its brain, and when the clown had come back to life it found itself trapped permanently within the creature’s belly.
As Haroon continues firing at the zombies in his path, he realizes that the elephant is moving too quickly for him to get away. He turns the shotgun on the monstrous animal and aims for its front left leg. He doesn’t aim for anything else, just shooting that leg in the exact same spot, hoping to slow it down. Unfortunately, he’s not a trained marksman. His shots hit the water, hit its face, and its chest. Only a few hit the leg, but none of them in the exact same spot. If his gun wasn’t solar-powered he would have been out of ammo by now. He turns and fires at zombies in front of him, then turns back to the elephant. No matter how many times he shoots it, the creature doesn’t slow down.
The zombie elephant’s trunk raises and creates a blasting trumpet noise. Green toxic vomit sprays from its trunk in a geyser across the water, barely missing Haroon’s raft. He raises his shotgun and aims for its face. Firing six consecutive shots, he blows off the creature’s trunk as well as shredding both its eyes. This slows it down, but it keeps plowing blindly forward.
Haroon turns to the zombies in the water ahead and notices a bend in the river. That’s his chance. He decapitates a few of the zombies, then paddles with his free hand to take the curve without getting stuck on the rocks along the shore. After the bend, he looks back to see the elephant trampling over the rest of the zombies straight onto dry land. It doesn’t change directions, stomping forward into the carnival parking lot at full force.
The second time Haroon saw Nemesis, she was sitting on the bed staring at him in such a way that it seemed as if she was expecting him. He had come to see Terry after the lab was shut down for the night, but Terry was gone. His mop bucket was in the middle of the floor, but he was nowhere to be seen.
But Haroon didn’t just come to see Terry. He also wanted to see the reptilian woman again. Ever since he saw her he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. She scared and disturbed him, yet he found her strangely attractive.
He went up to the glass and just looked at her for awhile. She was cross-legged on the bed, topless, eyeing him. After a few moments, she stood up and came to the glass. She put her hand on the door.
“You can come in if you want,” she said.
Haroon was surprised to hear her say that. He didn’t know how to react.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She pointed at the door handle. Haroon walked slowly to the glass. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to do it, but he went inside with her. She lunged at him and grabbed the door before it closed.
“Don’t let it shut,” she said, as she held the door open a crack. “You’ll be locked in. If Dr. Chan found you in here with me he wouldn’t be happy.”
Haroon took off his shoe and put it in the door.
“I thought you were trying to escape,” Haroon said.
She cocked his head at him, as if she didn’t understand the word escape.
“Let’s get started,” she said.
Haroon’s questioning face turned into a face of alarm as she crawled onto the bed and pointed her ass at him, as if she wanted him to fuck her doggy style.
“What are you doing?” Haroon asked.
“Aren’t you going to have sex with me?”
“What!” Haroon yelled.
She sat upright. “Isn’t that why you came here?”
“No, I—”
“I assumed by the way you were looking at me…”
“No, I just wanted to talk. I think you’re fascinating. I wanted to learn more about you.”
“Oh,” she said, perplexed. “That’s usually not why people come here.”
“I’m sorry, I think I should go.” Haroon stepped toward the door.
“No,” she said, her hand slapping against the door to keep him from opening it.
Haroon wondered how she got off the bed and across the room so fast.
“Don’t go,” she said. “I’d love to talk. Nobody ever talks to me.”
“Okay,” he said, his voice shaking a little. “Yeah, that would be good.” He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back, but cocked her head a little.
Haroon held out his hand.
“My name is Haroon,” he said.
She didn’t take his hand.
“I don’t have a name,” she said.
“What do they call you then?”
“I’m from the Nemesis Project so sometimes they call me that.”
“I don’t want to call you Nemesis. It sounds inhuman.” He paused nervously after the word inhuman, but it didn’t seem to bother her. “What if I call you Nemy?”
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“I’d like that,” she said.
But her expression appeared as if she wanted to tear his throat out if he ever actually called her by that name.
Haroon comes to a shop on the edge of the river. Three giant blue letter Rs dangle from an ancient sign, above the words River Recreation Rental. On the dock, there are rows of yellow plastic kayaks. The area seems clear of the undead, so he directs his raft to the shore to take a closer look at the boats. If any of them are useable it would be much quicker, safer, and more comfortable than the tied-together driftwood he’s been riding.
Dragging his raft into the bushes along the shore, he goes to the kayaks. They look warped and brittle, not very promising. He taps one of them with the tip of the shotgun and the barrel breaks right through, more fragile than paper. Pounding on each one them with his fist, they are all useless. The sun shining on them for several decades has deteriorated the plastic practically to dust.
He looks back at the raft. He really doesn’t want to get back on that thing. This kayak rental is probably the best bet he’s ever going to get for finding something suitable for water transportation. He knows there’s got to be something useable there, somewhere.
Haroon decides his best bet would be to go inside of the shop. Nothing lasts long when its exposed to the elements like this. He walks shotgun-first toward the shop. As the door swings open, Haroon jumps at the sight of a crazed man’s face. The man’s mouth wide open and snarling. Haroon raises the shotgun, but stops himself from firing. The man isn’t a zombie. It is just a life-sized poster of an extreme sports kayaker howling at the top of his lungs as he goes down some wild rapids.
Haroon goes around the advertisement to examine the merchandise. There are some kayaks inside, but not many. Most of them were on display out by the river. He goes to them one at a time, but none of them seem very strong. Just the light from the windows was enough to wear them down. In the storage room, where no light could possibly shine, he finds one last kayak. This one is pink and made for children. He pounds his fist on it. The plastic is still sturdy and seems like it will stay together, at least for as long as he’ll need it. He decides to give it a try. Hopefully, his legs will fit inside.