With the pair in her sights, Sam opens her mouth to shout a warning, but Suzy turns to Jerry, and slips a hand between his legs. Horny little bitch! Tears well in Sam’s eyes, blurring her vision. Jerry gives the trees, shrubs, and ferns another furtive glance, then lowers his head for a passionate kiss. Pain hits Sam as a stone to the belly as she recognises Jerry’s foreplay routine. It never changed; full-on kiss on the mouth, followed by a sliding of the hands to the buttocks, back up to the breasts, nuzzle the neck, then hands to the lady parts. A tear rolls down her cheek as Jerry’s hand slips down the front of Suzy’s briefs. A branch cracks in the forest. Something yaps. The woman giggles, then closes her eyes as Jerry delves deeper, his knuckles angular against the fabric of her jeans as they see-saw. Bastard!
Movement between the trunks behind the pair flits in Sam’s peripheral vision but, by the time she has moved her head to check, there is nothing but the browning pine needles that cover the forest floor and the clusters of ferns. Turning back to her husband, the pair have parted, Suzy is looking back along the path. Looking for your husband, Suzy? Sam remembers the scream that had been cut short; Caleb! Jerry takes a sniff of his finger, then wipes it against Suzy’s back pocket, then pulls her to him for another passionate and groping kiss, but she is distracted, pulling away from him, and peering through the trees.
“No, Jerry! What if someone sees?”
Too late, bitch!
“There’s no one! Sam’s gone on ahead. She’s way up there,” he points to the top of the hill with a fling of his arm. “And Caleb is ... well, he’s way back there.” He flings his arm in the other direction, the flush on his face, and the bulge in his jeans, registering his frustration. He grabs Suzy’s arm. “Come here, babe.” He grabs her hand and rubs it against his crotch. “I’m ready for you. Let’s go behind a tree, they won’t see.”
Suzy’s giggle is short lived and she swivels to another crack of branches.
“What’s that?”
“How the hell should I know.” Here he is, the rude and impatient Jerry that Sam knows so well.
“It could be Caleb!”
“We’re in a fucking forest. It’s full of-” Jerry stops, his attention suddenly alert and focused into the trees.
“I need to find Caleb.” Suzy steps back onto the track they’d followed up the hill. “This place is starting to give me the willies! Where’s Sam?”
Sam wants to shout, ‘Yoohoo! I’m here, your best friend and the woman whose husband you’re cheating with! Bitch!’ but instead, she remains silent, with Suzy clear in her sights.
In the next second, as Jerry turns to a noise that seems to come from all directions, a dark and monstrous figure leans out from behind a trunk. It disappears within the second, but in that moment the image is scorched onto Sam’s mind, and makes the pain of her husband’s betrayal evaporate. Lean and muscular, with a large penis nesting in a mass of curling black hair, its power is obvious, but it is its face, with an elongated nose, and jaw complete with bone-white incisors and rows of pointed teeth, and blood-red eyes with hugely enlarged pupils, that suffuse every cell in Sam’s body with terror. Seconds later, the beast reappears closer to Jerry and Suzy.
Still oblivious to its presence, Suzy calls, “Caleb!” Then when her call is met with silence, she makes a louder call. “Caleb!” Still no reply.
Sam fingers her trigger. Warn them, Sam! Shoot it, Sam!
Jerry finally turns his attention to his wife. “Sam!”
Entirely still, Sam watches as the creature moves from tree to tree. Branches snap underfoot, and Jerry twists to the noise. Sam swallows against a drying mouth, keeping her breath steady and silent. Shout! Warn them that they are being hunted. She shivers. Don’t move. Breathe quiet. But it is hunting Jerry! Warn him ... Quiet breaths ... Stay calm ... Don’t ... move.
The thing takes a step closer, moving out from behind a thick trunk. It’s licking its lips! Actually licking its lips! It sniffs at the air. Smelling their scent. Sweat dampens her armpits. Stay calm. Don’t sweat. Stay still! She continues to breath in small and steady silent breaths, desperate to stay calm, and stop the reek of fear that will envelop her if she panics. As she watches the creatures circle her cheating husband and ex-best friend, instinct tells her to be quiet, to disappear among the ferns, to make herself mouse-like and inconsequential.
As Jerry takes a step closer to Sam’s position, calling her name, the creature strikes. Pouncing from the undergrowth, it jumps with claws outstretched at Suzy. Landing on her back, she is thrown to the floor. Sam watches in horror as before Jerry has a chance to turn, the creature has sliced through Suzy’s throat and dragged her back into the forest.
The scream of warning sticks in Sam’s throat as the creature returns, another at its side—this one a female. In her hand is the lower portion of an arm, a fat arm with the remains of a distinctive dragon tattoo. Caleb! The male launches itself at Jerry as he opens his mouth in a surprised ‘O’. His face is contorted with confusion and then horror, but no scream or shout erupts as the creature pounces, one hand slammed against Jerry’s open mouth as the other slices down his torso ripping through fabric. Jerry lands with a thud under the force of the creature’s full weight. Hand still over Jerry’s mouth, the creature rips at his torso, tearing away layers of jacket, shirt, t-shirt and finally flesh. Frozen in terror, unable to take her eyes away from the horror playing out in front of her, too terrified to make a sound, or even breath, Sam watches as the creature delves inside her husband’s ribcage, pulling out his heart. Jerry’s legs stop kicking as the aorta splits.
Minutes pass, and the burn in Sam’s thighs and biceps is intense, but she sits completely still, gun still pointing, and waits for the longest minutes of her life until the creatures move back into the woods. Jerry’s body lies where it had fallen, heart by his side. She lowers her gun, and slowly eases herself to the forest floor and reaches into her backpack for her mobile phone. Not daring to speak, she sends a text to the lodge. Hands trembling, palms sweating, she taps each letter as quietly as possible whilst maintaining a slow and quiet breath to quell the rising overload of utter panic. Listening intently to the noises in the forest, and interrupted by constant glances at the trees, she types. ‘SOS!!!!! Trapped at Eagle Point. Werewolves! Jerry and Suzy dead. Caleb – she baulks at the memory of his severed arm - dead. Please save me!’ She re-reads the message. Deletes ‘werewolves’ and replaces it with ‘Attacked by wolves’ then presses send. She watches the screen. The signal buffers and then ‘MESSAGE SENT’ appears. With a repressed sob, she bites her bottom lip, and glances with blurred eyes at the vast expanse of forest that rolls down the hills to the lodge.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Thirty minutes after Peter’s dramatic entrance through the Institute’s gates, and still reeling from the knowledge that Katarina has been attacked and taken into the forest by Max, he sits in a small suite of rooms allocated as his ‘apartment’ for the duration of the project. The intermittent tremor in his right hand that had begun several months before his flight to Alaska, is even more pronounced, but he is determined to confront Marta about just exactly what is going on at her new Institute.
The room is a division within a windowless box fitted out hotel-style with a narrow hallway flanked on one side by the bathroom, and on the other by a wardrobe, leading to a bedroom complete with double bed, comfy chair with coffee table, and television above a set of drawers topped with a small kettle. A tray holds a cup and various bags of coffee, tea, and milk. There is even a welcome chocolate on his pillow and a handwritten note from Marta herself which must have been penned before the fiasco with the plane. It reads,
‘Peter,
Welcome to the International Institute of Bio-Tech Advancement!
I trust that the journey was pleasant and that you are not suffering too badly from jetlag.
These are exciting times for bio-technology, and I am confident that your knowledge and expertise will take our project to the ne
xt level. We are pioneers in our field, Peter, and I am thrilled to have you along for the journey.
Once you have settled in, please notify me of your arrival and I will arrange induction and familiarisation, and then take you on a tour of the facility myself.
Marta’
Beneath her name is a number. He reaches for the telephone beside the kettle and dials. To his surprise it rings and a business-like, if slightly anxious voice, replies. “Peter! Thank God you are alive.” Taken aback, he replies, “Marta?”
“Yes, of course it is me, Peter. Who else?”
“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to answer so quickly.”
“I’m sure you’re all in a dither-”
Irked by her choice of vocabulary, realising that her need to belittle him is undiminished, he replies with a forceful tone, “Well, not quite a dither, Marta. I am however, deeply disturbed about proceedings thus far.”
Silence for a moment, and then, “Oh, Peter. You are such a grump.”
“Grump? Marta, I-”
“Kendrick tells me that you are in fighting spirits and that you remain unphased by your experiences, and ‘proceedings thus far’.”
“Are you serious, Marta? Has Kendrick debriefed you on quite what occurred on our rescue from the beach?”
“Yes, and it is all under control, Peter.”
She replies with the hard edge of certainty Peter recognises, and his determination to confront her recedes.
“I’ll collect you from your room in ten minutes, Peter, and then we can discuss the project.”
“Are you seriously-.”
“Ten minutes, Peter.”
His reply fades to a mumble as she cuts the connection and he replaces the receiver, lost in a whorl of deja-vu. He clamps his lips together, staring at his face in the mirror, loathing the image reflected back. Spineless! You are utterly spineless, Marston. He takes in the hair greying at the temples, the eyebags puffy from lack of sleep, cheeks that are beginning to sag, and the first signs of a jowl hanging beneath a chin and jaw that was once taut and well-defined. Here he is again, at the behest of Marta Steward, incapable of resistance. The woman is a force of nature against which he has no defence. He rubs his chin as he turns away from the mirror—perhaps a beard will help.
Ten minutes later a knock on his door announces her arrival and he is surprised when the door opens to an anonymous but stern face. “This way Doctor Marston.” The guard commands and, without waiting, turns to walk back along the corridor. Peter follows, quickening his pace to keep up with the man’s rapid stride. Peter notes the rifle slung across his chest with unease. “Is that really necessary?” he asks, catching his breath.
“The rifle?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, sir, it is.”
“Right.”
The end of the corridor reached, double doors are pushed open and the men stride through into a larger, though still compact, room. At one end is another pair of double doors, but along one wall is a single door with a small glass window reinforced with mesh. Peter attempts to look inside as he passes. A quick glimpse shows it to be a laboratory, complete with extra-large animal cages built along each wall. A central table with several computer monitors and keyboards sits at the centre. A sharps bin sits on the counter beside a sink at the far end. A large white board is hung with a ring of thick black plastic, the device seemingly linked via cable to one of the computers. Apart from the black ring, the laboratory is a replica of the ones kitted out at Kielder, although the cages there were smaller. They’re bigger here, Peter! He swallows. She’s at it again, Peter. No, she can’t be. Kielder was too horrific. He wipes away the sweat beading at his brow. Perhaps she is trying to find a cure? What, and keeping the news as a surprise for you? The explanation for the extra-large cages, the heavy security, and the animal in the box, is too grotesque to consider, and instead Peter focuses on thinking about the notes he’d made about the new project Marta had contracted him to set up and manage. It was utterly tiresome that all his carefully written, and researched, notes had been lost along with his laptop, and were now probably at the bottom of the sea, but he wanted to be able to make a good first impression despite the losses. Thoughts intrude. She’s just shifted the operation to Alaska. No! It’s impossible, and Marta just wouldn’t do that. It’s unethical. Oh, Peter, you are a bloody fool. Shut up! Just shut up!
After making their way through several short corridors, each with a side door opening into another room, Peter is led outside to an open space with a huddle of buildings at its middle. The buildings are clad in wood with a narrow window just beneath the ceiling. These buildings, he notes with rising tension, have two layers of security; a heavy outer door leads to an antechamber, and the outer door has to be secured with a code before the inner door will open. Peter shivers, this level of security at any institute is not something he has experienced before, and the only place he had come across an inner door that wouldn’t open until the outer door had been secured was at a zoo to stop the animals escaping. Peter has the creeping concern that here, in this inner sanctum, it was to prevent the animals from getting in.
Once through the antechamber, they pass along a narrow corridor and then a final locked door to an open space. At its centre are a group of tables and comfortable chairs, and Peter notes the steam rising from a delicate china cup sitting beside a mug. The room smells of coffee and a perfume he recognises as the one Marta wears. A door opens and Marta strides forward.
“Peter!” With a smile that can’t hide the fatigue in her eyes, she beckons him. “Come into my office. Oh, and bring my tea will you, please? I’ve made you a coffee. I hope it’s how you like it.” She throws him a huge smile before turning back to her office. Without question, though irked by her command, he takes the tea in its delicate bone china cup and saucer along with the milky coffee, into her office. Dwarfed by the massive leather chair, Marta sits behind her desk, thanks him for her tea, then takes a sip as though they are relaxing in a particularly pleasant tea room. Her red-rimmed eyes close.
“Marta-”
She holds up a hand, stopping his flow of words. “Peter, before you say anything, I have to assure you that we have everything under control here, and that the project is on track as planned.”
“Marta.” He waits until he has her attention and her eyes are locked to his. “Marta, have you brought ... any subjects from Kielder to this island?”
Her lips narrow. He waits for the lie. “Yes.”
“Oh ...” Think Peter!
“But I can assure you, Peter, that everything is under control.”
“Although an alpha has attacked Katarina and taken her into the woods!”
“It is all under control, Peter! Kendrick is retrieving them as we speak, and we’ve learnt our lessons from the events at Kielder. We weren’t prepared. Here,” she gestures to the office, “we are. Only last week we had a security breach, and one of our female subjects managed to escape,” she holds up her palms as though to ward off his ire, “I know, I know, but we have put new protocols in place, and the female was brought in without any damage having been done, as will the alpha and Katarina.”
“You mean before she had a chance to kill or infect anyone.”
“Exactly.”
Peter shakes his head. “Or anyone found out,” he states.
“Well, there isn’t really anyone here to find out, but yes.”
Before Peter has a chance to explain that the escaped ‘subject’ had not only been seen but recorded on a video that was then transmitted to an investigative journalist in England, Marta continues, with, “Each of our subjects is implanted with a tracker; it records their heartrate, oxygen and hormone levels, along with their location. We have also taken the precaution of giving the employees trackers too, although they’re not implanted.” Her smile is triumphant.
“How many subjects do you have?”
Ignoring his question, Marta continues. “Like, Katarina, the female had been an emplo
yee, but she had managed to get bitten by one of the younger cubs-”
“Cubs?”
“We’ve brought some younger specimens across.”
Peter struggles to comprehend exactly what Marta is saying. The ramifications are too awful, too unbelievable, to consider. “Younger specimens ... from Kielder?”
“Yes. We decided that acquiring a range of ages would be the best way forward, although what we really need is to capture them at the very first, embryonic, stages.”
“To find a cure?”
Marta’s brow furrows.
“For Max?”
Her brow smooths. “Certainly we can attempt to find a cure for Max, once the project has been established.”
See! She’s not working on a cure! He begins to delve into a subject that his mind had refused to accept. “I was told that I would be involved in a breeding programme, Marta.”
“And you will be.”
Peter’s eyes narrow. “I’m beginning to suspect that the programme I will be working on is not the one I signed a contract for.”
Marta flashes him a tight smile. “There have been some changes in our plans since we last spoke.”
“Marta, just what is going on here?”
She remains silent.
“I think I have the right to know.”
Her eyes open but don’t meet his.
“Marta?”
“Project Kielder.”
The Kielder Experiment (Book 2): The Alaska Strain Page 12
