~( Horror in the Zoo )~
A Penguins of Madagascar story by Cudabear
~Disclaimer: This story is a sequel to Death in the Zoo. While it's not entirely necessary to read that story first, I recommend you do to fully understand what's going on in this story.
Chapter 1 - Nightmares
A flash of lightning signaled the destruction of something precious.
The light graced his eyes, dancing down from the heavens as though it was a gift from some deity. It formed patterns his brain couldn't even comprehend, lighting up sections of the sky piece by piece until the entire black void above him became a blinding white. A great pain ran through him as the light enclosed him. He closed his eyes, or at least felt the sensation of his eyes closing, yet the whiteness still remained.
What would have been different if he hadn't been so ignorant?
The white of the lightning began to melt away as a putrid green color overtook it, bubbling and sizzling it's way up in jagged lines that tore apart the gift from heaven. He felt sick at the sight of it, a great wave of dizziness and nausea passing through him as he watched the white lightning become completely snuffed out. When all that remained was the putrid green mess, he felt himself retch, even though he wasn't even sure he had a mouth to retch with.
Why did they let it boil underneath the surface until it was too late to prevent the skin from cracking?
A great heat began to overtake him, and the green before him began to bubble and sizzle at a faster and faster rate, until it seemed as though it was violently overflowing from the edges of his vision. The green hue began to slowly fade, and then it quickly became red. It was the deepest, most intense red he had ever seen in his life. Without trying, he felt himself seething with anger, his entire entity trembling. Images flashed before his mind, a blank face, a blood-stained crowbar, a paw clutching a bunch of feathers. They caused him to cry out in fury, but no sound emanated from him.
Why couldn't he have defended them? Why couldn't he have defended himself?
The consuming red light began to fade, slowly becoming less and less aggravating. Even though, he felt himself struggle to breath, like it still held a tight grip on his throat. As the red began to fade, streams of blue began to pour into his field of view at an astounding rate. Suddenly he felt claustrophobic, like the blue streams were going to snuff him out if he didn't stop them. He could find no way to do so, though, and they poured.
And they poured.
And they filled him with dread.
His breaths came choppier and choppier, until he could no longer feel himself breathe at all. Darkness began to flood the edges of his vision as he became engulfed in anxiety.
Why couldn't he breathe?
Private sat bolt upright in his bed, choking and sputtering on his own saliva. He dabbed at the corners of his beak with his flippers and discovered chunks of whatever last night's dinner was. Grimacing, he looked behind him and noticed his stack of pillows had collapsed and the pillows had wrapped around him like a cocoon.
He heard Kowalski's voice ring through his head. It's important you never sleep flat on your back. The veterinarian said that your good lung could fill with fluid and you could drown without ever knowing it.
Right. Drowning in his sleep. A fitting death for a bird that lived in a headquarters surrounded by water, he figured.
The stout penguin reached behind him and maneuvered the pillows into a safer position, one that would help him make it through the night alive rather than provide padding for his eventual coffin. He was happy to see not very much of his vomit had made it to the cloth of the pillows, so it wouldn't be too hard to clean himself up.
Before he hopped out of his cot he briefly did an inspection on the usual places. He blinked a few times and looked around the dark headquarters to make sure his vision wasn't blurry and it would be safe to stand up. No feeling of dizziness; check. He felt the soft spot on his head to make sure he hadn't reopened the scar there. No sign of blood; check. He felt his chest under his feathers that still hadn't completely regrown and the bumps of the stitches that still remained there, ensuring none of them had reopened. No pain; check.
Good job, Doctor Private, he thought, you've given yourself a clean bill of health.
He slowly swung his legs over the side of the cot, feeling the cold kiss of the concrete floor on his webbed feet. He stood up slowly, balancing himself on the edge of the cot to insure himself against his legs giving out. He grabbed the crutch that had been left for him the night before, and propped it up under his wing.
It wasn't that he really needed it to balance himself. It was more because even the simple act of walking caused his body to hate itself and restrict the oxygen flow to his brain. So, he figured it would be wise to sate his starving body and try to convince it to save some of that oxygen for the brain that really needed it by offloading some of his weight onto the flimsy wooden crutch.
Private took a cursory glance around the room. It was still dark outside, and he could see his three penguin teammates still sleeping in their bunks. His bunk was empty, of course. Climbing up into it was too much effort for him nowadays.
The penguin waddled out of the main HQ room and down the brief hallway that lead deeper into the penguins' installation. Down here it wasn't as nice as the main room, though they didn't spend much time down here. That was, of course, with the exception of Kowalski and his lab, which occupied one offshoot of the corridor. Another offshoot was the place the designated as a washroom, and similarly the only place beneath the surface with a source of running water. As he entered, a putrid smell hit his nostrils and he realized that he was the only one who had ever cleaned it.
Cleaning up helped him feel somewhat better. The physical sensation of improving his hygiene was usually enough to cheer him up briefly, but it never lasted. When his feathers were free of the clinging remnants of his night terror, he left the washroom and made his way back into the main room of the penguin HQ.
When he returned, he saw that his teammates were still sound asleep. He heard a click and turned to see the red light on Skipper's coffee pot had turned on, meaning it would be time for morning training soon. It probably didn't matter, though, since Skipper would just let him sleep through it again if he provided enough resistance. It wasn't like he could contribute much, anyway.
He heard something shift in the bunks nearby and turned to see his tall teammate Kowalski softly climbing down the bunks' adjacent ladder. When he was on the floor, he directed his attention to Private for only a moment, his eyes betraying his worry for his friend. He then headed to the penguins' refrigerator and opened it, producing a knife and a plate full of fish. Private hopped off his cot again, this time opting to leave the crutch propped up against it.
"Hey, K'walski," he greeted his comrade, "I can prepare breakfast today if you'd like to get a little more sleep." The small bird reached for the knife that was in Kowalski's flipper expectantly. Kowalski hesitated before passing it over.
"Thanks, Private," he responded. His voice was deep and soothing, but the grogginess in it betrayed his tiredness.
"No worries. See you in a few." Private set to work immediately, scaling and gutting the fish so the others would be able to start training sooner after awaking. The zookeepers always expected them to eat the fish whole, bones and all, so it was nice to have the gross bits stripped out whenever they could.
Kowalski nodded and started to head back to the bunk. He took a few steps before turning and asking, "How did you sleep?"
Private smirked at the ignorance in his question. Kowalski seemed to acknowledge this, directing his eyes awkwardly to the ground. "Let me rephrase my question. What was your nightmare like this time?"
The stout bird stopped chopping the fish and looked blankly ahead into the room. "I don't really remember it," he lied.
"Well I'm sorry to hear you had another rough night," Kowalski said, his forced sympathy apparent in his words. Then, he perked up. "We need to find something to help you sleep better. Without sleep, you're never going to get back up to speed." The intellectual tapped his beak and gazed at the cracked concrete ceiling, showing he was deep in thought.
"It's fine, K'walski," Private interjected. Kowalski looked at him, confused. "No, it really is." Private smiled as genuinely as he could, and his teammate smiled back.
"Well let me know if you still have trouble sleeping in a week or so," Kowalski offered. "I'd really like to help you, if I can."
"Thanks, K'walski," Private returned, then tried to focus his attention on the fish so his friend would leave him alone. Kowalski headed back to his bunk, either because he bought it or because he realized Private was annoyed.
Kowalski was the problem solver. It was what he did best, and Private knew it was where was the most comfortable. He accepted problems and offered solutions for those problems. Take him outside that comfort zone, or ask him a problem he couldn't solve, and well, he became as useless as Private's punctured lung.
The rest of the morning continued in the standard way. Skipper's coffee pot beeped not long after Kowalski went back to lay down, and the flat-headed leader was at attention before the machine could even stop dripping. He acknowledged Private by nodding toward him, then at Kowalski. Private responded by nodding back, signaling that the trade of breakfast duties was mutual. Skipper smiled, then poured himself a mug of his coffee. He grabbed of the residual fish tails from Private's pile of fish guts and used it as a stirrer before heading toward the HQ's escape hatch.
"Team, up top and ready for training in 15," he announced, simply, before climbing the ladder, the squeaking of the hatch announcing his departure.
"Wahoo!" came Rico's howl from his bunk. In a flash, the beefy penguin was at Private's side, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he stared at the fresh fish filets his smaller friend had prepared. Private couldn't help but chuckle slightly as he pushed a sizable stack of them toward the demolitions expert. Rico scooped them up in his flippers and waddled over to where his toy doll girlfriend was waiting for him. He purred softly to it before scarfing down his meal.
Rico was always a bit of a wildcard, but he was a focused wildcard. Rico was bound to accomplish what he was asked to do, but not always in the way he was asked to do it. This was the reason he was easily swayed. If he was given a task he didn't agree with, or couldn't find the motivation in completing, he could be taken completely off course even by the simple suggestion of an alternative. That, coupled with the fact that he didn't know how to communicate with conventional words, meant he was loose cannon.
Private divided the remaining fish onto the three plates nearby, then took one of the plates and put it back in the fridge. Skipper always ate his breakfast after morning training, anyway. Then he grabbed his and went back to sit on the edge of his cot and pretended to eat. He wasn't hungry, but wanted to make sure Kowalski thought he was still eating like he should. Unsurprisingly, the rest of the trio's meal was eaten mostly in silence.
"Will you join us for training this morning?" Kowalski asked as Private took his empty plate, hiding that his was still mostly untouched. Private shrugged and headed to grab Rico's from the floor near his doll. The large bird had since disappeared topside. "You should at least come up for some fresh air," the intellectual insisted. "It'll be nice to have you involved again, for a change."
Kowalski's words fell harshly on Private, and he froze. This wasn't the first time Kowalski had asked him to join them for training, but it was the first time the intellectual had spoken with a sense of annoyance. Private felt guilt bubble up inside him at the tone of his friend's voice, hundreds of hurtful words that he would have loved to say racing through his mind.
He couldn't say them, though. That wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be like him. It would scare Kowalski away.
And then, he'd have nobody.
"Kowalski, I..." he began, but was cut off by the sudden sound of the secret door hidden behind the massive, stuffed fish hung on the wall being slammed open. Before he could even turn to look and see what the commotion was about, a brown mass of fur raced passed him, darting under his cot on the other side of the headquarters.
"Mort?" Kowalski asked the mass of fur, heading over to where it was cowering under the makeshift bed. "Are you okay?"
"No!" the tiny mouse lemur known as Mort screamed as the tall penguin approached him. "No! Stay back! Please, stay back!"
Kowalski jumped back at the panic in the small mammal's voice. "Mort, what's gotten into you?"
The last time Private had seen the small lemur so upset, it was the morning Julien's body had been found, cold and motionless in the bushes on the edge of the lemur habitat. He pictured in his mind Mort's giant bloodshot eyes, the matted fur under them streaked with tears, and realized the lemur was a picture of himself that morning, those six long months ago.
That was the day they all learned of the evil things one animal could do without remorse.
On the edge of his vision, private saw a blur of dark fur, dark yellow eyes, a sharp blade. He gasped with surprised, even stumbled back at what he was sure was real. He saw the flash of lightning like in his dream, and a sharp pain shot through his abdomen. He hunched over from the pain, but was able to remain standing. The grey blur before him faded away, and he then realized how fast his heart was racing.
A crash from the other side of the room drew his attention, and he saw that Mort had tripped over a mop bucket and it was now stuck over his head. His pleads of fear had now degraded into pained wails that sent shivers up Private's spine. Kowalski was nearby, reaching for the bucket.
"K'walski, stop," Private said.
The intellectual hesitated before pulling his flippers back. "Can you calm him down, so we can figure out what's wrong?" he asked. Private nodded and hobbled over to where the lemur was desperately trying to get the bucket off of his head.
"Mort, you don't have to worry. We're your friends here. We're not going to hurt you," he spoke in the calmest voice he could muster, even though his heart was still pounding in his chest. His words were effective, however, as the small lemur stopped struggling with the bucket. "We're all friends here, Mort. There's nothing here to hurt you," he repeated, and was able to get a flipper on the bucket to help free the trapped mammal.
When he was free of his temporary prison, Mort sat up and quietly continued sobbing into his paws. Private sat down next to him and wrapped a flipper around his small friend, gently offering calming words that slowly but surely stopped the small lemur's sobs.
Kowalski kneeled down nearby when the lemur's panic had been reduced to a mere shiver. "What was so scary, Mort?" He asked.
The tiny lemur took a breath much too deep for his small body to handle before responding. His voice came out as nothing more than a whisper. "It w-was him," he struggled to say as he rubbed the tears from his oversized eyes. "He's back."
"Who is back?" Kowalski asked, his brow arched in confusion.
"What's going on here?" came a commanding voice from near the hatch. Skipper had appeared and was climbing down the ladder. Rico followed closely behind. "I didn't think you two wouldn't have an excuse for being late to training, but I didn't expect Sad Eyes," he commented.
"Mort's terrified of something," Kowalski explained. "We were trying to figure out what it is."
Skipper walked over to the small mammal and crossed his flippers. "Well, what's so scary?"
Private felt the small mammal shudder at Skipper's sharp tone. Instead of responding, he nuzzled his face into Private's chest. "He's claiming someone is back," the bird answered for him. "Someone who must have done something terrible to him."
"Who could that be?" Skipper asked, his brow arched with disbelief.
In the corner of his vision, private saw the piercing yellow eyes, the twisted sneer. "Maurice," he responded, softly. Mort immediately responded by returning to his panicked state, his wail immediately causing Skipper to cover his ears.
"What? Ma'rice?" Rico blabbered, his face contorted into obvious discomfort. Private could only assume he was remembering that his actions nearly lead to the death of himself and Maelie. Private could barely remember Skipper, Rico, and Kowalski bursting into the headquarters those few precious minutes too late, after he was already bleeding out on the concrete. It wasn't until after he had woken up that he had been told the reason for his comrade's delay. If Maelie hadn't been there with the Powerline XT, he wouldn't be here now.
"But, Maurice is dead," Kowalski spoke the obvious.
"Not for all of us," Private whispered. Mort looked up in response, but it didn't seem like the others had heard him.
"Mort, there you are!" sounded a familiar, soft, female voice from the secret door. Private looked up to see the grey fur, lanky frame, and friendly eyes of Maelie standing in the doorway. She had a look of concern on her face, and she immediately came to grab Mort from his arms. Private felt himself smile slightly when she took him. She looked around the room briefly, then said, "Sorry about this. We were on our way to see Marlene when he got away from me. I had no idea he would come here."
"No worries, dollface," Skipper said, waving a flipper in dismissal. "Glad he came here, rather than leaving the zoo."
"Yeah," Maelie affirmed. She gently rubbed the back of the tiny lemur's head as he pushed himself closer to her. "Poor thing, he's been having a lot of trouble sleeping the past couple weeks."
Kowalski perked up at her comment. "So has Private," he said, confidently. "It seems we have a contagious case of insomnia."
"I don't have insomnia," Private countered. "I've just been having a few nightmares, that's all."
"I have nightmares too," Mort said, his distinct inflection of innocence returning. "They don't go away. Never."
"Marlene's been helping talk Mort through them," Maelie explained. "She says they're a result of what happened with Julien. Private, maybe you could tag along and have a chat with her, too."
Private shook his head. "I'd love to, but I really shouldn't miss morning training."
"Negative, soldier," Skiller interjected suddenly. "You're going to talk to Marlene instead." Private grimaced at the order. "Consider it an alternate form of training," Skipper continued.
Private felt a flipper on his shoulder and looked up to see Kowalski giving him a reassuring smile. "Okay," he finally agreed, reluctantly.
"Awesome," Maelie said, smiling. "Oh, and Skipper," she redirected her attention to the leader penguin, taking on a more serious demeanor, "I overheard the zookeepers talking this morning about a new lemur that should be arriving sometime today."
"What?" He turned to Kowalski. "How have we not heard about this until now?"
Kowalski shrugged. "Intelligence wasn't readily available, I suppose."
"Don't worry, Kowalski. I'm ninety-nine percent sure it's one of my friends from Madagascar. I sent word to her of what happened to Julien, and I received word back recently that she'd be coming. I wasn't sure how she was going to get here, but she's a resourceful one, so it doesn't surprise me that she's somehow convinced the zookeepers that she's a new adoptee," Maelie explained. "You probably didn't hear about it because even the zookeepers didn't know about it until this morning."
"Can this lemur be trusted?" Skipper responded quickly, his flippers crossed.
"She was head of the lemur military taskforce, and answered directly to Julien when he was still king of Madagascar. When I left she was begrudgingly answering orders from the new king. She didn't come here with me to warn Julien because she was considered defending the kingdom from the fossa more important. Now that he's heard about what happened, I'm sure she's coming to pay respects."
Skipper nodded understandingly, "Let me know as soon as possible when she arrives. I'd like to make sure the lemur that's arriving is actually who you expect."
"I understand," Maelie returned, then smiled. "But don't be so worried, Skipper. She's pretty much your type." The lemur winked, which caused Skipper to grimace.
"We'll see when she gets here," the leader responded. "Alright, Kowalski, Rico, topside for training. Private, you go with Maelie to visit Marlene, and be sure to be back for when the zoo opens at oh-nine-hundred. C'mon people, we're late. Move it!"