by C. Gockel
Georgie chuckled. “Maybe if you’re nice to me, I’ll let you go.”
Ronnie growled, the sound deep and gravelly.
David climbed carefully to his feet. He knew nothing of their quarrel, but if he were to choose a side to be on, he would choose Ronnie. It seemed to him that she was the underdog, and he owed her for hitting her with his car. He leapt forward and jumped Georgie from behind.
“Run!” he yelled as he clamped his arms around Georgie, pinning her arms down by her side and determined not to let go.
“You fool! You don’t know what you’re doing—she’ll rip you apart!”
He didn’t have time to argue. One moment he had Georgie in his arms, the next she was loose and turning back with a look of pure rage upon her face. His eyes widened and he back-pedalled as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough. She stalked toward him and there was something strange about her eyes. They were shining a golden yellow, as if lit from within. Magic!
“Run, you idiot!” Ronnie shrieked.
He spun on his heels and sprinted away. There was the sound of ripping cloth, and suddenly he was falling. Something wet and warm covered his back and he screamed his agony into the night. He rolled away from the thing Georgie had become, but it was too quick for him. He barely had time to raise his arm as the creature went for his throat.
“AEiii!” he screamed in pain and fear as the jaws clamped down on his arm. The pressure increased enough to break bone. “Help meeeee!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs.
He kicked and thrashed, but there was no sign of Ronnie. She must have run away. He wished he could do the same, but his arm was firmly clamped in the maw of a huge wolf, and there was no escape. In a burst of clarity, he knew he was going to die. The wolf stared knowingly into his eyes, relishing his fear and pain as it slowly increased the pressure on his arm.
Suddenly it howled in pain and released him.
Another monstrous wolf had come. It was almost as big as Georgie. David kicked as hard as he could and scuttled backward just as the newcomer ripped into Georgie’s vulnerable flanks, but he didn’t have the energy to rise, let alone flee. He was in shock and losing blood fast. His back was a sheet of agony, and his arm… he swallowed sickly. The muscle of his forearm was shredded, but the bone wasn’t broken. He knew because he could see it.
“Now then,” he whispered between his pain-filled pants. “Remember your training, doctor. Stop the bleeding or the patient will go into shock and become comatose.”
There was nothing to be done about his back. It was a mass of stinging pain, but he would have to hope that the injury was superficial. His arm most certainly was not. There could be tendon damage, certainly the muscle of his forearm was shredded and he was losing a lot of blood. While these thoughts went through his mind, he was tugging his belt free and attempting to fumble it one handed around his upper arm to slow the blood loss. He whimpered in pain as he pulled the fake leather as tight as he could above the ghastly wound. He watched the blood slow and stared when he saw movement in the wound. His tendons—unbelievably they were still intact and moving as his fingers spasmed with the pain.
Over his panting, he heard the howling and pained barks of the wolves as they tried to rip each other apart. He watched the smaller one roll and land in a ragged heap. It was bleeding and favouring one leg as it gamely returned to the fight. The bigger one seemed in worse shape, but it was still strong. The small one launched itself upon the larger, and screamed as it was smashed to the ground by a huge paw full of claws.
“No!” he shouted as Georgie buried her teeth in the belly of her enemy.
There was a howl of agony followed a forlorn whimper. That was when he heard sirens. The police had arrived. The night lit suddenly with colourful flashes from patrol cars racing toward them. The huge wolf grinned with lots of teeth at David. The look promised retribution. Georgie spun in place then ran into the night.
Ronnie dragged her broken and bleeding body across the road, whimpering in pain all the way, and disappeared into the darkness of another alley. David would have risen to help her, but he doubted if he could have done much with his arm the way it was.
He staggered erect and tottered to the furthest pile of clothing the women had left lying in the road, hoping to find out who Georgie was. He wanted to know where to lay the blame before the police could push him out of it. The shredded clothes seemed to rush toward him as he fell to his knees. He clamped his jaw willing himself not to pass out and picked up the wallet he found partially covered. It was lying within shredded cloth that had been blue jeans just a few minutes ago. Ronnie’s jeans had been blue. He had chosen the wrong pile to investigate. Without really knowing why, he tucked the wallet out of sight in his pocket and slumped backward.
The sound of doors slamming and an ambulance siren split the night, but he was starting to drift now and hardly noticed. Uniformed police ran toward him and then into the alley with their weapons drawn, leaving him to bleed out on the street. He wouldn’t like to be them. He didn’t think guns and shock lances would slow Georgie down much, but they were probably safe enough. He doubted they would catch her. Who the hell could track a wolf in a city except maybe another wolf?
He lay back feeling very warm and sleepy. “I think… I think I’ll just wait here,” he whispered as the dark closed in.
Pain and voices woke him. He was lying on his shredded back and the movement of the ambulance was agony. He opened his eyes to find a paramedic looking back at him. The woman looked very concerned, and because of that, he decided to be very concerned too.
“Your name is David Lephmann?”
“Yes,” he croaked.
“You lost a great deal of blood, Mister Lephmann.”
“Doctor,” he said.
“I’m a paramedic, sir.”
He hissed as pain knifed up his arm. “No, I mean I’m a doctor. I have type B blood, no allergies, no medi—” he hissed in pain. “I’m not on medication, but I could use something for the pain, please.”
“I’m sorry. You’re at the limit already. I can’t give you any more.”
“Okay.” He knew the reasoning, but he didn’t have to like it. His arm would need surgery. She had to be careful that the drugs she administered didn’t interfere with the anaesthetic. “What about Ronnie—the woman with me?”
The paramedic looked confused. “There was only you.”
“But she—” he stopped himself from continuing.
It would do no good to argue. Ronnie must have dragged herself away. The thought of her dying alone in some dirty alley was heart-breaking. Had he gone through all this for nothing? Who was she really, and why was she running from Georgie? She had mentioned someone name Raymond, but Raymond who? He sighed and shifted more onto his side to ease his back. His arm was screaming at him, but there was nothing he could do about it.
His arrival at the hospital was a blur. A quick examination in Saint Bartholomew’s emergency room and he was rushed into surgery. He answered everyone’s questions to the best of his ability, but he lied about one thing. A police officer asked him if he knew the name of the woman or her assailant.
He made eye contact with the officer. “I don’t know her, but she called our attacker Georgie.”
There wasn’t time for more questions. He was rushed away on a gurney and into the operating theatre.
The next David knew, he was lying comfortably drowsy in a room with an east-facing window. He knew it was east, because the sun was rising to stream through the blinds. The thin spears of light were enough to illuminate the room. He had visited many patients in rooms just like it.
His right arm was heavily bandaged. He could only assume that the surgery was a success. It was numb, but he had the I.V to thank for that. He hoped there would be no permanent loss of feeling, but considering how he came by the injury, he should be grateful he still had both arms. He was lucky to be breathing and he knew it. If the police had arrived just a few minutes later, he would be in the morgue
now and so would Ronnie—if she weren’t already.
He shivered. The room was just a little cold. He thought about calling for the duty nurse, but it was still very early in the day and he didn’t have the heart. He would wait for shift change, which was in—he checked his clock—just over an hour. He could stand a little chill for some peace and quiet.
He wondered absently what Alex would say about his little adventure. It was certainly an experience to remember. Alex knew a great deal about non-humans, maybe he would recommend a text on the subject of wolves. He nodded to himself. He would ask as soon as he could use the link.
Where did the first shifters come from, and how did they do it? Was it something they had been born with—perhaps handed down from parent to child as was commonly assumed, or was it magical in nature as some of the gifted believed? It was a real shame that non-human biology wasn’t taught. He knew only what he had learned from Alex on the subject. Whatever the truth was, it was fascinating. He would love to ask Ronnie her opinion, but assuming he did find her again, it was doubtful that she would tell him. Non-humans were very close-mouthed about their affairs.
The hour was almost up when he felt the first signs of a fever. He had a mild headache like a touch of the flu and he felt a little dizzy. He wondered at first if perhaps he was having a reaction to whatever was in the I.V, but no—he hadn’t lied about his lack of allergies. As far as he knew, he had none at all. That was when the reality of his situation came crashing down onto his shoulders.
Georgie had attacked him, and Georgie was a shifter—a lycanthrope! “Oh my goddess,” he whispered in shock as he finally realised what that meant. “Oh my goddess, I’ve got it.”
Why hadn’t he put it together sooner? He was a doctor; any first year intern knew how contagious lycanthropy was! Oh shit, he needed the serum and vaccine! He reached for the call button, and that’s when the symptoms hit him big time. A monster of a headache suddenly blossomed from nowhere, and he cried out in agony. It felt as if his brain was going to explode out of his skull. The room was spinning and he squinted at the meagre light coming through the blinds as if at the sun itself. His eyes felt sensitive to the light and he was panting as sweat started rolling off him in rivers. He was burning up.
“Oh goddess be with me,” he gasped and pressed the call button. He held it down until the nurse came.
David writhed upon the bed as every inch of his body burned and itched. He was burning up with fever and the pain in his joints was beyond anything he had ever felt. The nurse that came to his summons had called Doctor Revell when he urgently explained the necessity to her. She knew him as a doctor from his time here under Hoberman, and she did not hesitate. Janice—the goddess love her—had driven across the city at breakneck speed to be with him, but he had gone into convulsions soon after she had examined him. It was as if something were trying to claw its way out of his body. It was only the recently added restraints that stopped him from falling out of bed.
Now Janice and Hoberman were debating angrily over the best course of action to take, and ignored his pleas that they call Alex.
“Please,” he said forcing the covers off his sensitive legs for the tenth time. “Oh goddess, you know he can help me.”
“You are quite mistaken, Doctor Lephmann,” Hoberman said. “The lycanthropy serum was administered immediately after surgery whether you knew it or not. It has a less than stellar recovery record as you know.”
“The vaccine then,” he panted, accepting some water squirted through a tube from a plastic bottle by a nurse. He swallowed the precious liquid and coughed a little. “Janice, help me.”
Janice’s eyes were glistening with tears that did not fall. She had a hand covering her mouth to prevent the useless platitudes she would normally offer a patient. Nothing she could say would help.
“He’s right, David. The series won’t work.”
“Please call him. Just call him!”
Doctor Hoberman turned to Janice. “This debating does no one any good. I’ll take this case. You have other patients to see.”
Janice made to protest, but David’s imploring look stopped her from uttering the words. She nodded, but not at Hoberman, and left the room. Hoberman took the squeeze bottle from the nurse and sent her on an errand. David was left with the man he wanted least to be alone with.
“You see now that my words regarding the monsters was true. You do see that don’t you?”
“There are many kinds of monster. Not all are non-human. You know the vaccine could work.”
Hoberman made a face. “I might have strong views where non-humans are concerned, but I would never stoop so low as to allow you or anyone to be made over into one of those creatures. Have you heard nothing I’ve said? I want them gone. I certainly do not want more of them created! I admit that the vaccine has worked on occasion but only after the serum has been administered and run its course. It has never worked alone—never.”
“I don’t believe you,” he said fearfully. If Hoberman was correct, even Alex could not save him. “You’re lying!”
“Why would I?”
David refused to answer because he didn’t know what the answer might be.
Alex Brauer entered David’s room in a whirl of activity. Three nurses from Mercy Hospital followed him into the room and immediately took charge of David’s care. The nurse with the squeeze bottle was gently but firmly moved aside. Angry voices were raised, but to no avail. She was escorted out of the room.
“I’m calling Doctor Hoberman—” the closing door cut her off.
“Lynne,” he said peering down into David’s eyes. He was semi-conscious and unresponsive. “Draw the blood and get it back to the lab. I want you to wait for the results. The moment you know, call me. You have my number.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Lynne murmured, already setting up. She was extremely careful with the needle and wore gloves. No one took chances with lycanthropy. “Do you want a full work up?”
He shook his head. “Tell them what we’re looking for. I need to know yesterday. The rest can wait until later.”
“Yes, Doctor,” Lynne said and gathered up the blood sample. “I’ll call the moment I know for sure.”
He nodded and Lynne left. Margaret was taking David’s blood pressure, and Anne was investigating the room’s thermostat. She turned the dial up, and the air conditioning shut off.
“Blood pressure is elevated,” Margaret said. “One-forty over ninety—not dangerous.”
Elevated blood pressure was one symptom of lycanthropy. Anne unpacked the box they had brought with them. She brought out four heavy duty restraints that were designed to withstand a lycanthrope’s strength. They were wide and padded to prevent injury to the patient, but the main difference was the manner of their construction. The wide nylon straps were reinforced with braided steel wire on the outside.
“Give me one of those,” Alex said and took the offered strap to secure David’s left arm. Anne removed the standard restraints from his legs and replaced them with the new stronger ones, but David’s right arm was heavily bandaged. “Remove the dressing. Let’s have a look.”
“Right,” Anne said and fetched a pair of scissors.
“His temp is up,” Margaret said. “One hundred and eight.”
Alex hissed in frustration. Lycanthropes weren’t human—they looked human, but they weren’t. One hundred and eight degrees would kill a human, but it was normal for shifters. Their metabolisms ran at a higher rate; it was one of the most important indicators he looked for when diagnosing lycanthropy.
“We might be too late,” he said grimly.
Anne finished uncovering the wound and paled. “When did Doctor Revell say they brought him in?”
“Last night, why?”
“You better have a look.”
He examined the wound. “Those stitches are ready to come out.” He looked sadly at his friend. “He has it, no question.”
“Too far advanced?”
“I t
hink so. We can’t wait for the blood work up. We have to chance the vaccine. I’ll take the stitches out so you can restrain the arm.”
He quickly and expertly removed the stitches and watched in fascination as the tiny wounds slowly closed. He was not sure it was even worth trying the vaccine. There was no question in his mind that David had lycanthropy, and there was no cure.
He frowned, trying to decide the best course. “We might learn something,” he murmured and took the syringe from Margaret. “Small comfort for him, but at least I can say we did all we could.”
Anne nodded and took the now empty syringe for disposal. Margaret placed the other two doses in the series on a tray and placed it beside the bed. Alex nodded his thanks, and peeled back David’s eyelid.
He looked back at Anne. “Get another line into him—fluoperazine-triphosphate.”
Anne nodded. Fluoperazine-triphosphate was a drug used to help suppress the change in lycanthropes. It was a tranquilliser of the same family as major tranquillisers, but it had only the one use.
“Hang it up, but don’t introduce it just yet,” he said watching the procedure.
A short time later, Janice Revell entered the room. She nodded to the nurses and joined Alex at David’s bedside. “Hoberman ordered me out. How is he?”
“He’ll live.”
“The serum didn’t work?”
“No. I’ve given him the first dose of the vaccine, but I doubt it will work. If I’d been there when they brought him in…” he shrugged. “We were too late.”
“Hoberman,” Janice snarled. “David begged him to call you, but he wouldn’t and I waited too long.”
“Don’t blame yourself. The vaccine works on maybe ten percent of cases. No one knows why it fails on some and succeeds on others. The research budget is almost non-existent.”
They watched and waited. David began thrashing around and mumbling to himself. No one could make out the words. When the time was right, Alex administered the second and third dose to his struggling friend, but if anything, it seemed to make him worse.
