THE DARE
THE DARE
“Bro, tell me this ain’t the coolest shot we’ve ever done,” Marcus grinned, angling his phone toward the rusted zoo gates.
Jay laughed, tugging his hoodie tighter against the night breeze. “Breaking into a dead zoo at midnight? It’s a content goldmine. Hashtag urban jungle.”
They weren’t just idiots with a death wish—they were creators. Viral stars on TikTok, YouTube, Insta, you name it. Their series DARE DEVILS had racked up over 3 million followers. But the algorithm was brutal. You stopped posting heat, and your name died faster than yesterday’s meme.
So tonight, they were going all in.
The zoo had shut down months ago. Rumours swirled about an “incident”—something about a kid getting hurt, a lawsuit, animal testing, all brushed under the carpet. Officially, it was “renovation delays.” But unofficially? It was ghost town central. Security was a joke. No lights. No guards. Just an old city secret rotting behind a locked chain-link fence.
Which Marcus had just snipped open with bolt cutters.
“Let’s gooo,” he whispered with a wicked grin.
They slipped through the fence like shadows, cameras already rolling. Jay held a GoPro while Marcus streamed live on his phone.
“Yo, what up, jungle squad!” Marcus whispered into the camera, spinning slowly for dramatic effect. “We out here risking our lives for the likes. Who else breaking into a zoo at midnight, huh?”
“Probably the dumbest thing we’ve ever done,” Jay muttered, mostly for the mic.
The entrance plaza was overgrown. Weeds pushed through cracked pavement. A map board hung sideways, graffiti scrawled across faded cartoon animals. Jay panned across it for B-roll while Marcus jogged ahead, scanning for the ape house.
“You sure this is a good idea?” Jay asked. “The whole place feels... wrong.”
“You getting scared?” Marcus teased, already halfway to the animal exhibits. “Don’t worry, man. Worst case, we get chased by a raccoon or something. Content, baby!”
They wandered past the sleeping pens—empty or hollow-eyed creatures barely noticing their presence. An old lion dozed in a far corner, ribs showing. A few parrots squawked somewhere in the trees. The place reeked of urine, mold, and something else... something metallic.
Jay paused at a sign labelled PRIMATE HABITAT - CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE. The wood was splintered, the caution tape long torn. He caught up to Marcus just as he reached the ape house.
“Dude... it’s open.”
Jay blinked. The thick metal doors had been left slightly ajar. A breeze wafted out—humid and foul, like wet fur and rot.
“Maybe we shouldn’t—”
Marcus pushed it open, camera up. “It’s showtime.”
Inside, the lights were dim, flickering occasionally like dying fireflies. The air was thick and damp. Steel bars lined the hallways, leading to enclosures with shattered glass, overturned barrels, and shredded bedding. A broken enrichment toy rolled across the floor, squeaking.
“This is insane,” Jay muttered. “This place looks like it’s been trashed.”
“Or something broke out,” Marcus added, his tone just a little too playful.
Jay pointed the GoPro at a control panel—smashed. Then at a cage door—unlocked, wide open, hinge bent like it had been torn apart. His stomach twisted.
“Wait, wait, wait… That’s not right,” Jay said. “You see this? This wasn’t done by a human.”
Marcus zoomed in on the cage plate. “Subject 9A. Name: Drake. Species: Gorilla. Status: ACTIVE.”
Marcus turned to Jay, wide-eyed. “Oh my god. We just found King Kong’s bachelor pad.”
Jay didn’t laugh. “Where’s Drake now?”
Marcus grinned and whispered to the camera, “Probably watching us.”
The silence that followed felt wrong. Too heavy.
Jay swallowed. He stepped into the enclosure cautiously, camera still rolling. Torn walls. Deep gouges in the concrete. Clumps of black hair. And blood—dark, smeared like someone had tried to wipe it but failed.
He turned to Marcus.
“Okay. This isn’t content. This is a crime scene.”
“No way,” Marcus said. “This is perfect. We fake a scare. You scream, I run, camera goes crazy. Then we cut, reveal the prank. Easy million views.”
Jay’s voice was firm now. “I’m serious. We should bounce.”
Marcus just rolled his eyes and turned his back. “Relax. It’s all part of the game, man.”
Then came the sound. Soft. Heavy. Behind them.
A thump.
Another.
Marcus froze mid-sentence.
Jay turned slowly.
There, at the end of the corridor, stood a shape. Massive. Silent. Barely lit by the flickering light overhead.
Drake.
Eyes black and focused. Shoulders hunched. Arms hanging like wrecking balls. He stepped forward—one slow, deliberate pace.
Marcus laughed nervously. “Okay, whoa. What—what the hell is that? Jay? Is this… you? You set this up?”
Jay backed away. “That’s not me.”
Drake moved again. No roar. No warning. Just purpose.
Marcus raised his camera. “This is—this is insane. I’m getting this. I’m—”
The gorilla charged.
Jay screamed. Marcus didn’t even have time to react.
The beast slammed into him with earth-shattering force. Camera clattered to the floor, spinning, showing only chaotic flashes—Marcus’s legs kicking, sprays of blood, a crunch.
Jay ran.
He didn’t look back.
The last thing the camera captured was a dark hand reaching out, grabbing the lens.
And then—static.
