She got as far as bending over him and reaching out before he squealed, addressing me.
"Help me. You're British."
"Yes, but I'm also Scottish. Allies rather than friends, remember?"
The sheriff's hands reached closer, the man searched our faces for help, realized he wasn't going to get any, and finally, just in time gave up the fight; I don't know if the sheriff had been serious but she gave every impression of being so. I resolved never to take her on at three card brag.
"Okay, I'll tell you what I know," the man said. "But not here. Not in public like this. As I said, it's top secret."
We solved the quandary by dragging him, cot and all, over to the coffee area. I saw Wilko and Jennings standing off to one side, wondering whether they were invited, so I motioned that they should join us. We all got a brew, pulled some plastic chairs around and waited for the man to start. He asked for a smoke when he saw me lighting up and Davies allowed it.
"Just one. It's your leg that's bitten, not your lungs, but you're not out of the woods yet."
The man laughed at that then almost choked when he took a drag of the smoke.
"That's where you're wrong. I literally am out of the woods. It's where I came from. But first, introductions. I'm Derek Watkins, and I'm a geneticist working for the British government."
The sheriff snorted.
"If I'd known we were going to have so many damned Brits around tonight I'd have brought some tea."
Watkins smiled thinly and continued.
"Five years back we were approached by certain parties who offered us rare genetic materials in exchange for our expertise…"
The cap interrupted him.
"Before you tell us again that you're not allowed to divulge the info, let me do it for you. The guy offering the material was a Russian oligarch, he was building a special zoo in Siberia and needed your help and in return you got, I'm guessing, dire wolf embryos. You've raised those embryos, you've got a pack of the murderous fuckers by now, they've escaped and the shit has hit the fan. How am I doing so far?"
Watkins' eyes had gone wide, and when he raised the cigarette to take a drag, his fingers visibly trembled.
"That's top secret info, I mean, Whitehall level top secret. Have we had a security breach on top of everything else?"
"No," I said, "but I've seen your wee wolfies before. We were in Siberia, the cap and I. And the shite hit the fan there too. Luckily we can smell shite before we need to see it."
He was calming now and had a shifty look I didn't like; he looked like a man ready to play a bluff and we weren't holding a decent hand to play against him.
"I don't have much more to tell you then," Watkins said. "They're out and they're vicious. We need to get away from here and…"
The cap interrupted him again. Watkins didn't like it; he didn't look like a man who was used to it.
"There is certainly much more you can tell me. You can start with how many of you there were at the site and how many might still be alive up there. You can tell me how you got out and nobody else did, you can tell me how many of these wolves are running about out there and you can tell me what else you're not telling me. That'll do for starters...I'm sure I'll think of something more, but I'm waiting…"
Watkins wasn't about to divulge any more than he needed to. He kept his mouth shut and just stared back at the cap.
"Okay," the cap said. "Have it your way. It's time I tried to check in again anyway."
He took out the sat-phone and this time he got through. We heard his side of the conversation as he briefed the colonel on the state of things so far. After a time, the cap turned to Watkins.
"We can do this the easy way… tell me now and I won't have to do what comes next."
Watkins still stayed schtum so cap told the colonel what was needed and two minutes later handed the phone over to Watkins.
"There's somebody wanting to speak to you."
We didn't hear the other end of the conversation and Watkins only got a chance to say two words, "Yes, minister," before he went quiet and his orders were relayed to him in no uncertain terms. He sputtered and stammered and went red despite the paleness of his skin. There was a raised voice at the far end of the call, we heard that much and it was a much chastened man who eventually handed the phone back to the captain.
"I'll tell you everything," Watkins said.
"Aye. I thought you might," the cap replied with a thin smile. "But first things first."
He turned to the sheriff.
"They're planning an evac as soon as the storm abates. How quickly can you get everybody ready to move out?"
"All we need is five minutes notice," she replied. "But we're not abandoning our town."
"Nobody expects you to. It's just until we can get things under control. I promise you'll all get back as soon as the job's done."
She looked cap dead in the eye.
"I'll hold you to that personally," she said.
"You go ahead and do that," Cap said. That seemed to satisfy her. Cap turned back to Watkins but if the geneticist had anything more to tell us he wasn't going to get a chance right then.
Something heavy hit the door of the station hard enough from outside to rock it in its frame. A high howl rose above the wind and was answered by a chorus, getting ever closer.
The pack was on our doorstep.
-5-
The sheriff had her rifle in hand even before the rest of us reacted.
"They did this before," she said. "The door held… that time."
I wasn't at all sure that was going to remain the case. The station rang like a struck bell, almost as if a heavy vehicle...a pickup truck maybe... was battering the door instead of anything living and breathing.
"They did that at the station too," Watkins said at my back. "They'll get in. They always get in."
"Aye," I replied, raising my weapon. "I saw that movie too."
Wilko, Jennings, Davies, the captain, the sheriff and me along with them moved without any orders to form a line ten feet inside the door, standing there with our weapons aimed at the doorway. Whatever was out there continued to bang and batter away at the outside. The door shook and rattled, dislodging dust around the frame. But it held.
Somewhere outside, a beast howled in frustration.
"Maybe it just wants a biscuit," Davies said, deadpan.
"Have you got any, like?" Wilko replied. "I'm bloody starving here."
"Steady, lads," I said. "Remember, short, controlled bursts."
Sheriff Sue laughed.
"Now that one I have seen."
The banging and bashing stopped, as if it had heard us and was listening.
"Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in," Davies said.
"Not on your fucking nelly," I replied.
When there was no further attack on the door for several minutes, I had the men stand down and dispatched Wilko to get some more coffee on. I went back to check on our patient. Watkins was still eyeing the door warily.
"Can I bother you for another cigarette? While your doctor is looking the other way?"
"I'll join you," I replied.
We sucked smoke in silence for a minute. When he started to speak it was more as if he was reminding himself of something, so I didn't butt in, just let him ramble, hoping I'd learn something that might be to our advantage.
"They won't give up, you know? They never give up; it's been bred into them, hard wired. That bloody fool Masterton thought they were just big puppies and treated them like pets but there was never one of them that wasn't more than ready to bite the hand that fed it. Now, even I, who has hardly a sentimental bone in his body, will admit that when they were just born they were cute little buggers, playful even. But as soon as they were weaned, they began establishing order among themselves and the biggest of them began dominating and taking charge. After a month we had to reinforce the cages. The big bugger -- Masterton, unimaginatively called him Fenris -- had the rest of them trying to chew
their way out and they obeyed him, even as their teeth cracked and split and blood ran from torn lips and mashed gums. We had to shoot two of the livelier ones that time.
"It wasn't long after that Masteron got mauled. He got caught in the cage with them during feeding time and the big one ambushed him from behind. Damn near tore his scalp off and took a bite the size of his fist out of his thigh. He couldn't walk for a fortnight and if he'd lived would be using a cane for the rest of his life. But even then the daft bugger was making excuses for them, saying it was just in their nature.
"But the rest of us prevailed in the discussion, thank the Lord. We had the pack moved outside the station to a small wooded area enclosed by high security fencing that we had to get shipped in especially for the job. The pencil pushers in Whitehall raised a hell of a stink at the cost of it all of course, but we got what we needed eventually once Masterton showed that the wolves could indeed be trained. Even that was a con job though; the one that latched on to him and got him the best results was the runt of the litter and he raised it in isolation from the others.
"And it turned out that his wee pet was the first casualty. Two nights ago it was. The alarm went off while most of us were asleep and by the time anybody thought to do anything about it, it was too late; the pack got out and they went hunting.
"Almost first thing they targeted was Masterton's pet project as if it affronted them; I watched on CCTV as they tore the pup to pieces then started in on Masterton when he tried to intervene. I believe I shall hear his screams until the day I die. Then they turned their attention to the rest of us. When they forced their way into the lab, I knew it was time to get the fuck out of there."
"And how did you manage that?"
"I made for the Skidoo garage and high-tailed it out of there with the buggers snapping at my arse."
He went quiet again. I could read between the lines though; there was still plenty he wasn't telling us but Wilko arrived with hot coffee at that point and I took mine over to the machine to have a word with the cap about what I'd just heard.
The sheriff listened in as I told the man's story.
"Do you think he fled and just left everybody behind?"
"I think that's exactly what he did," I said. "And there's more he's not telling us. Who knows what we'll find up there?"
"We really need to get to yon station and see for ourselves," the cap said.
"And I'll be coming along for the ride," the sheriff added.
"You'll have your own people to look after."
"Once they're all on your choppers I think they'll be okay. But I won't be leaving with them. I'm coming with you."
"We'll see about that," the cap replied.
"Yes, we will."
And again I reminded myself never to play her at cards; she was fierce. I was about to playfully tease her on that very matter when Davies called out from near the main door.
"They're back and I think they're up to something," he called out.
We all went to investigate.
Have you ever heard a dog trying to get to a rabbit that's hidden itself under a garden shed? There's the sound of frantic scratching and digging, huffs of frustration, and, if the wood is good and strong, the unmistakable screech of teeth and nails being tested. That's what this was like. It sounded like there were three, maybe four of them at it.
And we were the rabbits in this scenario.
"They're trying to get under us," Jennings said.
"No shit, Sherlock?" I replied and turned to the sheriff.
"Can they do that?"
She shook her head and stamped her feet.
"Concrete, six inches deep. I was here when it was poured. We built this place to survive just about anything."
"But is there anything below that?"
"There's a basement, sure. But the door into it is outside at the back. There's no way for them to get up to us. Trust me."
It made having to listen to the noise a bit easier, but not much. The bastards appeared to be determined in their efforts. The locals were getting skittish, some of the younger ones clearly unsettled by this new attack.
"Can't you do something, Sheriff?" one of the men asked. "It feels like we're rats in a trap here."
Sheriff Sue turned to the cap.
"That's how I feel too. I'd like to take the fight to these bastards, but I'll need your firepower. Are you game?"
"Ready when you are, Sheriff. Just give the word."
She thought about it for a few seconds.
"Three of us should be enough to get the job done. Any more and we'll just get in each other's way. We go out the back door and if it's all clear, round the side. Then the plan's simple--we take down as many of them as we can and if they manage to mount an attack, we beat a fighting retreat back in here to safety."
"A commando raid. I like it," I said and got the thin smile again.
"I don't. But if we can thin the pack now there'll be fewer to have to deal with later if we're forced out into the open."
"You up for it, Sergeant?" the cap said. "If not, just say and I'll go, but you look like a bit of action wouldn't go amiss."
"Oh, I'm definitely up for it, Cap," I replied. "I'll take Wilko. Get some fresh coffee on, we'll be right back."
Jennings looked like he'd taken being excluded as a personal affront but I couldn't help that; Wilko was a known quantity, Jennings wasn't yet, it was as simple a decision as that. I just didn't have time to spare to explain it to him. I turned to the sheriff.
"Lead on, Sheriff Sue. We've got your back."
Wilko was by my side as we followed her to the rear of the fire station.
-6-
The wind was against us. As soon as she opened the door, we got hit in the face by biting snow and a gale that wanted to strip skin off our cheeks. I pulled my jacket hood tight around my ears, got the goggles down and leaned into the storm.
We stepped out into darkness. There was a small single light above the door but it barely penetrated into the night. I turned in time to see the cap and Davies close the door at our backs then we were alone with the elements and whatever beasties were prowling in them.
I switched on the sight light on my rifle; it proved to be good for lighting up the ground at my feet and not much else. If the beasties were watching us at this point there was no way we were going to see them coming. I felt vulnerable and exposed, neither of which were much fun.
The sheriff appeared to be feeling the same way. She moved quickly away from under the doorway light, hugging the wall and going right towards the corner that would, hopefully, give us a view of our targets. She moved easily and carefully, like a soldier in fact. I was almost certain she'd been military at some point in the past, she had that feel radiating from her. I hoped to get a chance to ask her later, but for now all our concentration was on reaching the corner without anything taking note of us.
It was a long thirty seconds, expecting an attack out of the whiteout at any second. But none came. The sheriff stopped us by putting up a hand inches in front of my face so I couldn't fail to see it. She leaned forward and peered round the corner, then raised her hand again, three fingers... three targets. Without speaking she indicated that she'd take the middle, I was to take the right and Wilko the left. I was now in no doubt; she'd definitely been military... and used to being in charge.
We stepped out into the open in unison as if we'd trained together for it.
The wind came from my back now and it swirled around the side of the station such that it created a clear view all along that length of wall. Wolves felt like too small a word for the three things we saw digging at the ground some twenty feet ahead of us; they were bigger than most horses, shaggy around the shoulders and silver gray at the flanks with long bushy tails and snouts full of far too many teeth. If the sheriff was impressed by their sheer animal magnetism, she gave no sign. She raised her weapon and Wilko and I followed suit.
I don't know what gave her pause; I didn't have her down as
the sentimental sort, but she hesitated when I expected her to shoot and she surprised me by shouting out, as if addressing a stray dog.
"Hey, you, get away from there."
The wolves turned as one to stare at us. I had a sudden glimpse of rage-filled red eyes, then the nearer of the beasts leapt, from a standing start into the jump that had it coming right at us.
Luckily for me young Wilko was on the ball. He put three rounds into its head. It barely slowed the thing's momentum, but at least it was dead when it reached us and I was able to step sharply aside and let it fall into a heap at my feet. When I looked along the wall again it was to notice that the other two had taken the chance to slink off into the storm; there was nothing for me to shoot at.
Wilko kicked at the dead beast with the toe of his boot.
"Hey, Sarge, cop a look at this shite."
He aimed his gun-light down to the mess that was all that remained of its head. Just behind that, where the neck met the shoulders, something blinked red. Wilko used his barrel to move the mane of hair aside and revealed an elaborate metal collar. Two LED lights blinked from a small black box that appeared to be attached...fused...to the dead beast's spine.
"Fetch that along with us, Wilko," I said. "Dig it out if you have to. The cap will want to see it."
I covered him while he bent to the task, watching the front. Sheriff Sue had our backs, rifle raised. I had questions for her but they'd have to wait. The wind leeched the heat out of me; I felt it bite at my legs and I was starting to lose feeling in my feet.
"How's it going, Wilko?" I shouted. "If we stay out here much longer my balls are going to drop off."
"Mine already have," Sheriff Sue shouted, just as Wilko stood with a bloody collar dripping red onto the snow.
"Got it, Sarge."
Two minutes later we were back inside the station and my feet started to complain as heat replaced cold.
I lit a much needed smoke and accepted a coffee from the cap. He had the good grace to let me make inroads in both before expecting me to report. Not that there was much to say in any case; all I had to do was show him the blood-crusted collar, the twin LEDs still blinking.
Operation: Yukon Page 3
