Harden looked up and down the street, trying to determine the source of the cry. “Help me.” It came a third time from the other side of the bank. Harden drew his service revolver and moved toward the corner of the building, pressing himself close against the granite surface. With the gun held in both hands and pointed at the sky, he jumped around the corner and stuck the weapon out in front of him. When he did, he saw a man lying against the wall. It looked as though he was barely breathing. “Help me,” the man said, again. Harden surveyed the immediate area, his gun following his gaze. Seeing no danger, he holstered it.
Harden crouched near the man. “What happened?” he asked. Harden placed two fingers on the man’s throat to feel for a pulse. The skin was like molten metal, nearly searing Harden’s fingers. He recoiled from the heat that emanated from the man’s body. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Suddenly, Harden felt the hair on his neck stand on end, feeling a presence behind him. He tried to turn, drawing his weapon as he did, when two hairy hands grabbed him, not from behind, but from the front. The man lying against the wall had taken hold of him with an iron grip. Harden tried to struggle, but the man was just too strong, then he saw a sight that horrified him. Two hairy, misshapen beasts dropped from the ledge to his right. He started to yell for help, but a hairy gnarled hand grasped him over the mouth. This can’t be happening, he thought.
Thorpe and Quong entered the garage, ducking under the police tape without a second’s hesitation. Only a large stain covered the spot at the place where the body had been found, most of the blood was now gone. Thorpe knelt near the area, putting his face close to the concrete and inhaling deeply, trying to detect any trace of Professor Silverman. Though he caught a faint scent, there was nothing he could lock on to.
“Find anything, Doctor?” Quong asked, standing nearby.
Thorpe looked up at his Asian friend. “Nothing I can use,” he said.
A voice came from behind them, “Perhaps I can be of some of assistance.”
Thorpe and Quong turned as one and saw a tall thin man standing a few yards behind them, with something out of a nightmare slightly to his left.
“Kyle!” Thorpe said, recognizing him immediately.
“Hello, Alex, it’s been a long time.” Kyle said without emotion.
“Not long enough, where’s Serena?”
“You’ll see her soon enough, she sent us to bring you in, alive. But she didn’t say anything about your friend. Paul!”
Taking the cue, the creature disappeared in a blur of motion, its movements so fast they couldn’t be registered with the naked eye. It reappeared mere feet in front of Quong. The beast lunged for the throat. Reacting quickly, Quong leapt up and over the beast, landing nimbly behind it. Caught off guard at how easily Quong evaded its attack, the creature roared in rage and frustration, charging at the small man like a rhinoceros.
Meanwhile, Alex drew his guns and immediately opened fire on Kyle, but the man was just too fast. Before Alex could get off two shots, Kyle disappeared. Hearing laughter behind him, Alex swung around, Kyle standing there with a look of contempt on his face. “Tsk, tsk, you certainly are a bad shot,” he said.
Alex fired again, and kept firing until the slides locked to the rear on both pistols. More laughter, this time to his left. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to find Kyle again. “You couldn’t hit a barn with those guns,” Kyle chided.
Alex’s voice turned husky and inhuman. “I don’t need the guns,” he said, throwing the weapons away. His face had visibly transformed, his nose more resembling a snout now and his once blue eyes now filled with yellowish pupils. Alex roared through newly grown fangs as the transformation continued.
“Yes, give into it. Let me see that beast you’ve been hiding,” Kyle said, beginning his own transformation.
Quong, still fighting off the other creature, saw the exchange between Thorpe and Kyle. He watched in horror as Thorpe started to transform. “Doctor! No!” he yelled, but it was too late. He wasn’t Alex Thorpe anymore. He was the beast and the only thought now was that another was challenging its territorial right.
Quong had no time to worry about Thorpe, the beast still pressing the attack. Producing two long silver knives, Quong used them to fend off the creatures attack.
Feinting to the left, with the beast falling for it and leaving itself open, Quong slashed two vicious cuts across its abdomen. The fiend froze, staring down at the gushing wounds in its stomach. It turned a malevolent gaze on its Chinese opponent, then renewed its attack and rushed headlong at him. At the last possible moment Quong ducked under the attack, swinging the blades around in a wide arc, then reversing them upward, driving both into the demon’s chest. A howl of anguish escaped the beast as it fell to the ground and desperately tried to pull the knives from its chest, but the daggers were firmly lodged in its chest. It let out a gurgling cry and lay still. Quong breathed a sigh of relief, then turned his attention to the melee between Thorpe and Kyle.
Thorpe did not completely transform, apparently fighting off the beast within. Kyle noticed the inner struggle Alex was fighting and took the opportunity to attack, blasting him back with the force of a Mack truck. Thorpe landed hard against one of the cement columns twenty feet away and fell to a heap on the floor, bits of concrete spraying the garage. Springing to his feet, Alex engaged his opponent once more with no signs that he was injured. He landed a blow to Kyle’s head, crushing the bones in his jaw. Kyle shook the blow off and returned with a two fisted combination to Thorpe’s mid-section, folding him in half. As Thorpe attempted to straighten himself, Kyle raked his back with two-inch talons, tearing large chunks of meat out. Thorpe let out a blaring blast of pain and grabbed Kyle, pulling him to the ground. They rolled back and forth on the ground, biting and clawing each other.
In the distance sirens wailed, gradually becoming louder.
Thorpe pushed Kyle away from him and managed to stand. The two titans circled, testing the other’s defenses, then Kyle rushed forward again, an insane howl leaping from his throat. Alex ducked the attack and grabbed Kyle by the scruff of his neck as he did and hurled him across the garage. Kyle hit the far wall like a blast from an artillery shell, cracking the concrete slab.
Quong reached Thorpe and tried desperately to calm him down. “Easy, Doctor. Deep breaths.” Thorpe followed his partner’s direction and slowly reverted back to his human form, collapsing when he was fully Alex Thorpe again. They looked at where Kyle had landed, but the spot was now empty.
The sirens had died. The police came over a loudspeaker. “This is the police, the building is surrounded, come out with your hands up.”
“Are you all right, Doctor?” Quong asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine, you know me. Let’s get out of here,” Thorpe replied.
The pair found a ventilation shaft and climbed inside, replacing the cover behind them.
Marla took the elevator from forensics straight to the fifth floor. Homicide took up half of the level.
At the late hour, only a few detectives sat at their desks, typing daily reports. In the rear of the large open room, was the office of her superior, Captain Paul Greaves. She could see him sitting at his desk through the large glass window, talking on the phone, the brusque look on his face told her it was not a pleasant conversation, though with Greaves, you could never tell from his expression.
Greaves, a burly, bear of a man, was from the old school, using intimidation to keep his troops in line. More than once he and Marla had ended up in a shouting match, although she still liked and respected him. When your back was against the wall, you could count on Captain Greaves to go to the line for you.
Marla wove through the maze of desks and stopped just outside his door. She waved the folder from forensics at him and he motioned for her to enter and take a seat.
Still on the phone, Greaves said, “Yes sir… Yes sir… It’s done. Goodbye.” He hung up and looked at Marla. “That was the commiss
ioner, he says the mayor’s breathing down his neck about these murders. If we don’t show some results, soon, he’s going to call in the Feds. Tell me there’s some good news in that folder.”
“News, but I don’t think it’s good, more like bizarre,” Marla said.
Greaves let out a deep sigh. “As if the murders weren’t bizarre enough. Okay, let me have it.”
Clearing her throat, Marla said, “Well, we took hair samples from the crime scene and ran it through forensics. The initial test suggests that the killer was canine…”
Greaves interrupted her. “That would explain the condition of the bodies.”
“Yes sir, well, during the course of the tests, the hair seems to have altered itself,” Marla finished.
“Altered itself! Let me see that report.” Greaves snatched the folder from Marla’s hand. After reading a minute, he looked up. “Thorpe should see this.”
“That’s another reason why I came by. Why do we need Dr. Thorpe involved in this anyway?”
“Thorpe specializes in abnormal cases. After looking at this report, you shouldn’t have to ask.”
“I don’t think we need him,” Marla said.
“Well, you got him whether you need him or not,” Greaves said, matter-of-factly.
“I’d like to know some background, before I work this case with him.”
Greaves pulled a folder from his desk and opened it. “Let’s see… graduated from MIT with honors at sixteen. He holds degrees in Chemistry, Psychology, Metaphysics, and a few more I can’t even pronounce. You might have heard of his father, Wilton Thorpe, millionaire businessman. He’s worked with other law enforcement agencies on similar cases. Is that enough?”
“Great, an egghead millionaire who helps us lowly public servants.”
“Don’t be so quick to judge, he might be able to make some sense of this report.”
“I don’t need his help, he’ll only get in my way,” Marla said, angrily.
Greaves had heard enough, he pointed a thick finger at her. “Listen to me, Detective, Dr. Thorpe has been assigned to this case and as long as you work for me you’ll follow my orders. You will cooperate with Dr. Thorpe, extending him every courtesy…” The phone began to ring on Greaves’ desk; he hesitated, then picked up the receiver. “Greaves here! What! Well seal off the area, no one in or out. I’m on my way.” He slammed the phone down and looked to Marla. “There’s been another murder.”
“What-Where?” Marla said.
“The garage at the Chase building. Right where the Booker woman was found.”
Alex lay on his stomach atop a stretcher in the study. The open wounds on his back were caked in dried blood, but were knitting back together by the moment. Quong rushed around gathering medical supplies: bandages, anesthetic, and surgical tape.
“I don’t know why you're fussing so much, the wounds will heal in a few hours,” Alex said, watching his friend hastily compile the paraphernalia.
“You’re not indestructible,” Quong replied.
“Nearly,” Alex said, solemnly.
Quong, satisfied that he had the necessary materials to treat the wounds, went over and began ministering to them. As he worked, he asked, “Why did you throw the guns away?”
“It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”
“That’s the demon talking, you came to me for discipline. It won’t work unless you practice it.”
Quong was right, Alex had sought him out shortly after the break out at the facility. With the text and Silverman missing, he had little chance of keeping the creature inside him at bay. With every passing day, the creature’s strength had grown and he knew that eventually he would cease to be Alex Thorpe and would become the beast forever.
Quong was a Chinese monk, their practice of discipline was legendary, although Quong’s approach was a trifle more exotic. It involved dream therapy, where one confronted their demons in the subconscious. Since the creature lived on the edge of his subconscious, Alex would be at a severe disadvantage when he finally did confront it. If he lost, the demon would be forever in control of his body.
After months of preparation, under the careful tutelage of Quong, Alex induced a coma like trance and went after his other. Since the subconscious was the creature’s domain it chose the meeting place. The last thing Quong told Alex before he entered the dream state was, ‘Your mind is the greatest weapon you have. Your imagination is the only thing that limits your power.’
They met on what seemed like a vast battlefield. Fog covered the landscape so Alex couldn’t be sure of its size. It looked as if a terrible battle had already taken place; men in medieval armor lay strewn about the landscape, or were impaled on stakes. Great war horses also lay amongst the bodies, most partially eaten. It appeared as if the creature passed its time summoning up whole armies to vanquish, winning every time.
A huge creature emerged from the swirling mist, stalking steadily toward him. Its sheer size took Alex’s breath away and he became afraid for the first time. The ogre laughed at Alex, and said, “I’ve been waiting for you, human. If you surrender, I promise to kill your mind quickly.” Then without warning it pounced with a speed that caught Alex off guard, leaping twenty feet in a single bound. Alex staved off the initial attack and countered with moves that surprised him. His abilities were increased in this place and he fought with an intensity he never knew he had.
The battle raged for what seemed like days as each warrior gained the upper hand only to lose it once again to the craftier opponent. Though the creature was much larger than he, Alex fought it to a stand still. Both of them weary from the long combat, they called a draw and a precarious treaty was agreed upon. Alex could call on the creature's powers without worry of it trying to take full control. In return, once a month, Alex would relinquish control for a few hours, letting the beast out in a remote area to roam free.
That was three years ago and there hadn’t been a problem controlling his urges since. Lately though Alex had felt the other’s restlessness on the edge of his subconscious. The treaty, it seemed, was beginning to crumble and Alex could feel that the creature wanted something more. Soon he would have to face the beast again, but he was so close to finding Silverman and the Dire’s lair it would have to wait.
Alex hadn’t told Quong about the agreement with the demon, he wouldn’t understand.
“The man, Kyle, you know him?” Quong asked, jolting Alex from his thoughts.
“Yes, he and I were friends once. Before he underwent the merger.”
Quong’s hand slipped as he was cutting the excess tape from around one of Alex’s wounds. Alex, unable to control himself, roared in pain, causing Quong to take a step back. Regaining his composure, Alex said, “It’s okay, sorry.”
Quong reluctantly came back and finished cutting the tape.
After two long hours at the Chase building, for the second night in a row, Marla was tired. But she still had a long night ahead of her. The latest murder had thrown her for a loop; it didn’t even fit the pattern of the other murders.
The naked man was identified by his fingerprints as Paul Dorsey, a former FBI agent who had died eight years ago in a plane crash, according to Bureau’s computer. Strange. Even more bizarre was the way he was killed, two twelve inch, silver knives protruding from his chest. The fact that he was stark naked, seemed like a footnote compared to the other oddities.
Then there were the two Omegas. The hand-held cannons simply lying on the concrete, both with their clips expended. The fingerprints taken from them had yielded nothing. Whoever had used them seemed to be a bad shot, not one drop of blood other than Agent Dorsey’s. Marla felt as if she’d stepped into the Twilight Zone, any minute Rod Serling would begin his monologue while he pulled on a filterless cigarette.
Picking up her cellular phone, Marla dialed the number to Harden in his car. After a dozen or so rings, she hung up. “Where are you, Jamie?” she said. Starting to replace the phone, she stopped, then dialed Thorpe’s home
number. He picked up on the third ring.
“Thorpe,” he answered.
“Doctor. Detective Shaefer. Are you busy?”
“No, not at the moment, but…”
“Good, I think we should talk. Can we meet?” she continued, cutting him off.
“Yes, of course,” Thorpe replied, taken aback by her forcefulness. “Do you know the Moonlight Cafe?”
“Yes, one hour, fine,” Marla said, hanging up. “Now we’ll see what you know, Doctor.”
Alex hung the phone up, still shaken by Shaefer’s cold demeanor. What could she possibly want at this hour? Quong poked his head out from the kitchen, “Something to eat, Doctor?”
“No, it appears I’m going out,” he replied.
“There’s no excuse. You had him, and you let him get away!” Serena screamed.
“We didn’t count on the Chinaman being with him,” Kyle said, in his defense.
The right side of Kyle’s face was caved in from the blow Alex had landed, the skin an ugly yellow and blue shade. However, with each passing moment the color lightened and reformed to its original shape. The bones knitting themselves back together could be heard every few minutes.
The other four creatures stood behind Kyle, their heads hung in shame. None bothered speaking, or growling, in his defense. The mission had been his responsibility, and his failure. The more liability that was placed on him, the less chastised they would be.
“I do have some good news,” Kyle said, hopefully.
Serena sat back in the worn wooden chair, affixing him with a cold stare. “And what might that be,” she said.
“We have a new member.”
Serena glanced around the room, looking for the new inductee. “I don’t see anyone.”
“I sent him to take care of something first,” Kyle said.
Serena lunged forward to the edge of her chair. “You sent a new convert on a mission? Not even you’re that stupid.”
Dire Symbiosis Page 11
