Howling Dead

by M. H. Bonham

  HOWLING DEAD

  M.H. BONHAM

  Copyright © 2009 MH Bonham

  All rights reserved. Reproduction or utilization of this work in any form, by any means now known or hereinafter invented, including, but not limited to, xerography, photocopying and recording, and in any known storage and retrieval system, is forbidden without permission from the copyright holder.

  ISBN 978-1-897492-16-1

  Also Available:

  ISBN 13 978-1-896944-93-7 Print Edition

  Dragon Moon Press

  www.dragonmoonpress.com

  www.howlingdead.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  HOWLING DEAD

  M.H. BONHAM

  Dedication

  To Larry, as always.

  And in memory of my parents, B. Albert and Betty M. Holowinski.

  K

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thanks to the following people: Gwen Gades my publisher, Gabrielle Harbowy my editor, Larry Bonham, Phyllis Irene Radford and Joyce Reynolds-Ward for reading this. Andrew Burt, for really coining the name “spiders.” And Mike Fowlkes, who graciously allowed me to tuckerize him in a book. Congrats, dude!

  CHAPTER 1

  Hunger.

  The creature felt the desire deep within; the need to drink blood, and to tear flesh and muscle from bone. The hunger had been an ache—a dull throb—for some time. But now it screamed at him. The hunger must be fed.

  The creature snuffed the air. It was cool that evening, and here in the dark alleyways, he was safe. Safe enough from the cops who patrolled the streets. Safe enough from the throngs of humans who inhabited the city. His senses were far beyond human—he would hear and smell anything long before it arrived.

  He licked his lips in anticipation of the hunt. Others had this hunger. Most kept it in check with the thin veneer that was civilization. Normally he would, too. But the full moon was overhead and it screamed for blood. Neither he nor others like him could deny the burning within.

  He trotted forward, ignoring the drunks who lay passed out next to the Dumpsters, their bodies reeking of sweat, puke, and alcohol. Not long ago, the creature would’ve sated himself on those unfortunate men, but tonight was different. Tonight there was new quarry.

  He halted in the darkness of the alleyway. Darkness was always his friend. He lay down now, his nose wrinkling at the smells of filth, tar, and human excrement on the pavement. It couldn’t be helped. Not if he were to catch his prey. He waited with anticipation.

  It would be soon. Very soon.

  K

  “I’m going to kill him!” Kira Walker grumbled. In the dim light, the screen reflected her blue eyes. She sat back and sighed. “I think I found our problem.”

  “What’s wrong?” Susan asked, peering over the gray cubicle wall.

  “Bob.”

  Susan groaned. She scooted her wheeled chair around the low wall and over to Kira’s cubicle. “Now what?”

  “I found our little security breach.” Kira ran her hands through her blonde hair. “Man, oh, man! I’m glad I get paid overtime for this crap.”

  “What’d he do?” Susan asked, peering intently with her hazel eyes.

  “He NIS’ed all the machines together with a stupid password file. He then distributed the main password file to all his machines using rdist. Get this—he gave superuser a password anyone could crack,” Kira said. “I bet he uses it on all his accounts. Boy, are the execs are going to be pissed.”

  “What is it?” Susan asked.

  Kira looked sideways. “I’m a man.” She pointed to the screen where she had cracked the password. IM-A-MAN stared back at them.

  Susan burst out in a fit of giggles and Kira began to laugh, too. “I guess he needs the reminder,” Susan gasped between bouts of laughter. “I wonder how he made lead UNIX systems administrator.”

  “Maybe he’s a suck-up,” Kira suggested.

  “They seem to like that, here.”

  “I wish Bob had let us evaluate his systems earlier,” said Kira. “I had no idea how many backdoors he put on these suckers until tonight. No wonder the hackers got in and deleted the database.”

  “Do we have backups?” Susan asked hopefully.

  Kira stood up and stretched. “Do we trust the backups?” She looked at her watch. “Christ, it’s ten already. No wonder I’m hungry. You think anything’s open?”

  “Maybe on the 16th Street Mall,” Susan said. “There’s always the vending machines.”

  “Oooh, yeah, doughnuts. Nice, good dinner.” Kira spread her arms to simulate an expanding waistband.

  “Makes a growing girl,” Susan snickered. “Hey, why don’t we start a build on the NIS Server, grab dinner, and then restore the backups? I think the Paramount Café is still open.”

  Kira nodded and popped a CD into the CDROM drive. She waved her hand. “Go away,” she told the computer as she rebooted it. She booted the computer off the CDROM and began the reinstallation. “What password should I give superuser?” she asked at the prompt.

  “You’re a wimp?” Susan quipped. “UR-A-WIMP?”

  “Naw, how about ‘DEADBOB’ with a zero instead of an oh?” Kira asked.

  “Works for me. I wonder...” Susan paused. “I better check—oh man!”

  “What?” Kira peered over.

  “The backdoor SNMP passwords on all the machines are original. A hacker could get in that way, too.”

  “DEADBOB,” Kira said firmly.

  Susan laughed and entered the new password. DEADB0B.

  K

  Alaric snuffed the air. He could smell humans, a few feral cats and assorted rodents, but none of his kind. Good. He didn’t expect to find anyone here—at least, not yet. Alaric was hunting tonight, but his prey was a predator.

  In this body, Alaric’s senses were heightened and his strength was greater than any human’s. Overhead, the full moon glinted off the high-rises, feeding his power. His sinews rippled beneath his black hair as he walked slowly, carefully on asphalt that was now cool beneath his feet from the night air. He felt the blood-lust of his ancestors and turned it aside.

  The wind changed and Alaric caught a familiar scent. His hackles rose as he walked stiff-legged toward the smell. Just within the moonlight, he saw the hulking shape of his second-in-command.

  Cathal, he said.

  The wolf hesitated and turned to Alaric. My liege, the wolf said, not bothering to disguise the unbridled hatred in his eyes.

  Have you seen anything? Alaric asked, ignoring the hateful stare.

  Monkeys...

  Humans, Alaric corrected him with a low growl. They are humans.

  They are primates, Cathal snarled. They aren’t what we are.

  Many of our kind were human before becoming like us, Alaric reminded him. You will not call them that.

  Anger glinted dangerously in Cathal’s eyes. Yes, my liege, he said.

  What have you found? Alaric demanded.

  Nothing. None of the wolves are here, save us, Cathal said. It appears your monkey-kil—I mean, human-killer is nowhere. He must’ve gotten wind of your plans.

  Damn, thought Alaric.

  Is that all? Cathal asked.

  Keep watch. Alert me to anything unusual, Alaric replied. His second-in-command left and Alaric pondered what he’d just learned. Alaric had been afraid that the rogue movement had grown, but now he had confirmation of it. The killer was now wise to Alaric and would now avoid the Alpha.

  Cathal was dangerous, Alaric reflected. But the pack hierar
chy wasn’t built on loyalty, but on strength. For all Alaric knew, Cathal might indeed be the rogue he was seeking. But somehow, Alaric doubted it.

  He snuffed the night wind and waited, hoping for some sign...

  K

  It was ten-thirty when Kira and Susan walked out of the Intermountain Telecom building on 17th Street in Denver. Although this was technically a workday, Fridays were casual days, which meant jeans and t-shirts even for contractors. It was still cool out, typical for a May night in Denver, and they had both put on the Intermountain Telecom jackets they had received as SWAG (Some-What-A-Gift) from the VP. The jackets had been thanks for keeping the computers up for more than a week.

  The streetlights cast their fluorescent glow next to the big buildings. The glow from the Qwest sign rivaled Intermountain Telecom’s in intensity. Overhead, a full moon was cresting the tops of the skyscrapers.

  “I’m going to be so glad to finish this job and leave here,” Susan said with a heavy sigh. “I want to go back to San Jose so bad.”

  Kira shook her head. “Not me. No jobs there, since it’s all been outsourced. I kind of like Denver. It’s pretty here and the people are nice enough. And we haven’t been to the mountains yet.”

  Susan snorted. “Who has the time? It’s ‘fix Bob’s system’ here, ‘Can you do a restore on the backups’ there. I swear, if we weren’t getting overtime I’d have quit a long time ago.”

  “Well, it’s no worse than any Silicon Valley gig we’ve had,” Kira remarked. “Anyway, did you check out the new wireless Intermountain’s been putting up? They say they’ll have a completely wireless Internet in two years; revolutionize the way we think about it.”

  “Yeah well,” said Susan. “Not sure if it’s all that revolutionary. I mean, Christ, Kira, we’ve had wireless since the 90s.”

  “This is something Randy concocted.”

  “Randy? You mean Green at MIT?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Loser!” Susan made an “L” with her thumb and index finger and put it to her forehead. “God, Kira, why did you hang around with such assholes?”

  “They’re smart assholes,” Kira said. She paused as she looked where Susan was leading her. They stopped at a dark alleyway between 17th Street and the 16th Street Mall. “Hey, I thought we were going to the Paramount.”

  “We are. This way’s faster,” Susan said.

  Kira hesitated.

  “What’s wrong?” Susan asked.

  “It’s dark,” Kira said. She caught Susan’s smirk. “No, really. Why don’t we go around?”

  “If we run into anyone, they’ll just be homeless. They’re mostly harmless.” Susan started into the alley. Kira hesitated for a moment and then followed reluctantly. They walked past the Dumpsters and toward the welcoming glow of the Paramount Café’s marquee. “I swear, Kira, you’re such a weenie when it comes to—”

  A dark form leapt from behind a Dumpster. Kira turned and for a split second, she saw a face. Not quite human, but not animal either. Something in-between. Then, fur, teeth, and claws were on top of Kira. She screamed, flinging her arm up at the last minute as the wolf tore into her.

  Five hundred pounds per inch of bone-crushing force tore into her arm. Blood burned in Kira’s nostrils and filled her mouth. As teeth slid through flesh, there was pain. Kira heard another scream—it could’ve been Susan’s, or it might have come from her own mouth.

  The wolf shook its head from side-to-side, shaking her like a rag doll. Blood sprayed everywhere. Kira could feel the bones snap and her body shake. Kira brought her legs up and kicked and kicked, but the force of her legs did nothing to dissuade the brute from its prey.

  Kira could see the lights of the Mall just beyond, lit up like daylight. So close, and yet, so far. “Susan, run!” she tried to shout, but the words came out in a gurgle. Her face lay against the cold, rough concrete of the alley. It was slick with oil or blood. Maybe both. She wondered if they’d mix.

  The wolf released her mangled arm. It was completely useless now. Through the blood and the haze of pain, she could see the raw meat and stark white broken bones. Kira looked into the unholy yellow eyes and saw sentience far beyond anything canine. Kira gasped, unable to tear her eyes away. The wolf opened its maw and she smelled the hot copper breath as it bore down to rip her throat out.

  “Oh my GOD!” Kira heard Susan scream. The wolf hesitated from its quarry and it turned. Susan stood there, transfixed by the grisly sight.

  “Run! Susan! Run!” Kira tried to shout again, but the words came out as a hoarse croak. For a split second, Susan stood there, not knowing what to do. The wolf leapt on the startled woman and within moments had her by the throat. As it bit into her, the body went limp. A sickening snap told Kira the beast had broken Susan’s spine.

  Kira tried to stand, but she had lost too much blood. Her stomach churned in nausea as she realized that not only was her best friend dead, but that Kira would soon be joining her. As she started to fade into unconsciousness, she thought she heard a police siren and the sounds of gunshots. Then the world spun into blackness.

  CHAPTER 2

  One Month Later

  It’s too hot, man, time to bug out, Lizard said.

  Spaz stared at the message on the palm top and felt a trickle of sweat run through his close-cropped straight hair and down his brown skin. He wiped his forehead and shivered slightly—the cold breeze from the plane’s air vent chilled him. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. The receivers worked best when his thoughts were clear.

  Not quite Asian, and not quite African, Spaz had inherited his Japanese features from his father and his coloring from his African American mother. He had also inherited his father’s ability to crack just about any machine out there...

  Spaz could see the pathway if he focused properly. The Forest was like that—you needed to be focused if you used it. Spaz pulled the data once again. At that moment, he saw Lizard’s avatar appear. It was a green gecko, reminiscent of the car insurance ads.

  Knock, knock, Spaz Boy, said Lizard.

  Go away, Spaz said. You’ll lead the werewolves right to me.

  They’re already circling, Spaz Boy, Lizard said. I’m just here to watch the fun.

  Wrong, said Spaz and began rerouting the links. Maybe you’ll give in, but I won’t. His fingers flew over the PDA pad faster than he could realistically form his thoughts into the right algorithm. That was the problem with prototype interfaces—as gee-whiz and Buck Rodgers as the public would like to think they were, the reality was that they had to compensate for an enormous amount of human frailties. One of them was the lack of ability to stay focused in a logical way. The human mind naturally made associations—associations which boggled even the biggest supercomputers. Spaz slammed the door on the Lizard and began to establish a secure session with the Denver database. He pulled up the whois files and started looking for a name.

  They can’t find me if you can’t, he thought smugly.

  One record popped up. Kira Walker, age 32, blonde hair, blue eyes, stared back at him from the photo. Damn, you’re looking good, Spaz thought. When he had looked her up previously, he had half-expected that she’d be married with three kids and settled down somewhere in Iowa. Instead, he found her in the most unlikely place—at Intermountain Telecom and right where he needed her to be. He only hoped she wasn’t a stik.

  He pulled up Susan Baker’s photo. Susie-Woozy, he remembered teasing her back in college but he couldn’t remember a time when she ever got woozy. Susie was 32, brunette, and miss-goody-two-shoes. Where Kira had a bit of a wild streak in her, Susie was all no-nonsense. She hated Spaz and hated when he called her Susie.

  Susie, Susie, Susie, Spaz told the photo. The interface replied that the command was invalid. He needed to reprogram it to have a sense of humor.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Barnes?” A flight attendant was staring at Spaz. “We need all electronic devices turned off or put in plane-safe mode for take-off.”

  It took
Spaz a few seconds to look up. He had already forgotten his identity. What was it again? Jeremy Barnes from Chicago. Not that his current identity really mattered to him. It might matter to Jeremy though—once he got the bill.

  Spaz muttered something noncommittal and put the palm in plane-safe. He took the headset off and stared out the window. The transmissions might interfere with the plane’s communications and even if they didn’t, he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself than he already had, ordering first class seats off Jeremy’s platinum American Express.

  It was probably best he was no longer online. If the werewolves had found Lizard and shut him down, they’d be looking for him. Then again, it might not be werewolves after all, but the stiks from the FBI. Regardless, it paid to lay low for a while, at least until the FBI stiks or wolves moved on. There were plenty of other targets out there besides him.

  His mind drifted back to Kira again. Now that his operative within Intermountain had turned wolf, he needed another. He had one backdoor—all good spiders did, when the shit hit the proverbial fan—but he wasn’t sure if it could be trusted. Intermountain was a lynchpin for the Forest, and at the moment his operative was leaving it open. But for how long?

  That was where Kira and Susie came in.

  They were working right in the Forest, only Spaz would bet they hadn’t noticed. Kira might, if she found something non-sequitur with the network, but that was Cathal Murphy’s department and Spaz doubted Cathal would let her sniff around. Still, the computer layout probably looked a little strange, and Kira might question it—or might simply think it was one of the myriad bad attempts by an inept administrator to maintain job security.

  Spaz wondered how much of a stik Kira had become. Susie was a stik and it was bound to rub off, but Kira was no doubt a spider at heart. All Spaz had to do was play to Kira’s curiosity.