Dire Symbiosis

by William Seagroves

  “And how do you fit into all this?” Marla said.

  “The text was bought by a ‘collector’ working for the U.S. government and turned over to National Security. They sensed value in the old book and decided to decipher it.”

  “And you being a patriot decided to help.”

  “Not originally, the book was deciphered by Professor Thomas Silverman, an anthropologist from Berkeley. He specialized in the Celtic religion, or Druidism. It took him a full five years to decipher the text, then it came into my hands. I was placed in charge of a government facility to apply some of the formulas. Eventually applying the one, the project was created for.”

  “The werewolf formula.”

  “Well, lycanthrope really, not just werewolves. In all cultures and folklore throughout the world a form of were-creature exists. There’s the Nogitsone, or fox people in Japan; the Boudas, or hyena people in Morocco; the Loup-Garou in France; the Santa Sakai in Malaysia and even the Mambu-mutu in Africa. The list goes on and on. Lycanthropes date back beyond the time of the Aztecs who were plagued with their own lycanthrope in the Nagual. With all the accounts and sightings of these creatures no one believes they exist and that’s how they want to keep it.

  “But getting back to the point, we were plagued with problems, one of which was getting human subjects to consent to the experiment. Another was finding trained animals.”

  “Why were trained animals important?”

  “The text was very explicit, only trained animals were to be used. The beasts couldn’t be controlled if a wild animal were merged with a human. The first success came with the merging of a grizzly bear and a man. The bear had been found as a cub and raised by a family in Washington State. The local populace became nervous when the bear reached it full size and complained to the authorities. Unable to release the bear back into the wild and hope it would survive, the family donated it to the San Francisco zoo. Needless to say it never arrived.”

  “What happened to the man-bear combination, is it still alive?”

  “Yes, but please, let me continue. As I said, the first success went well. Then I was called to Washington, D.C., to give a report on our progress. In my absence, my Chief Project Administrator, Dr. Philip Voss, began using additional formulas from the text. He managed to clone an extinct creature, known as a Dire wolf. He also brought in all sorts of wild creatures, lions, hyenas, boars, but the worst were his own creations, the Dires. I don’t think he got the formula right and the Dire Wolves were badly misshapen at birth and their temperament was all wrong. Some of the technicians said they were down right evil.”

  “And he used these animals in the experiments.”

  “That’s not all, we suddenly got an influx of ‘volunteers’ for the experiments. Not your average enlistee, but trained killers from every covert branch of the government.”

  “That explains Dorsey’s file, the FBI faked his death.”

  “Exactly, their slate was wiped clean. If the experiments were a success, then they would be issued new identities and join the NSA ranks.

  “When I returned from Washington, I was none the wiser, until the subjects began showing a high level of anxiety and hostility. I called in Professor Silverman to see if we were interpreting the formulas correctly. That was when the creatures broke out of their containment area.”

  Thorpe went on to describe the events at the facility that night. Marla listened in horror as he recounted the grisly murders. And was shocked to find out that he and the Professor were the only survivors.

  “But why all these murders, why draw attention to themselves?”

  “Their natural instinct is to hunt. Remember these people were merged with predators all at the top of their own food chain. And now they're super predators except their prey of choice is…”

  “…humans,” Marla said, finishing his statement.

  They stared at one another a moment, neither saying a word.

  “There is one more thing to add. They’re also looking for the Professor.”

  “The Professor, he’s here?”

  Alex hesitated. “When we were going through the employment files at the Chase group I came across his file and went to his address. But of course it was false. The murders aren’t random, either; I believe that anyone coming in contact with Silverman is marked for death. I think the only reason he has been able to avoid the pack so long, is that he’s using the text.”

  “Using it?”

  “There are formulas in that book beyond your wildest dreams.”

  Thorpe shuffled some papers on the desk and revealed a portion of the map marked in red ink. “I’ve marked several locations here on the map where I think the creatures would make their den. Quong and I have checked a few of them and found nothing.”

  Marla looked over the map a moment. “It’s a big city, they could be anywhere.”

  “The only constant about their choice of sites is a major waterway nearby.”

  “That doesn’t narrow it down, having the Savannah River,” said Marla.

  Alex stared at Marla. He could not believe how easily she had taken in the whole story. Then he thought about how she had survived the ordeal with her father and gained a new respect for this feisty woman.

  The black sedan pulled to the curb outside Thorpe’s apartment building and the driver killed the engine. Moments later three men exited the vehicle. The driver headed for the front entrance, while the other two entered the shadowy alley around the side of the building.

  Halfway down the alley, the men stopped and surveyed the side of the building. “That’s it there,” one said, pointing to the fifth floor window. They looked at each other and silently nodded. Moving close to the wall, both extended their hands and lightly touched the masonry as their fingernails elongated into thick black talons. They dug their augmented claws into the brickwork as though it were forged of red clay and began to climb.

  Kenny G, a world renowned musician in the late eighties and early nineties, playing sold out auditoriums during the height of his popularity, is forever doomed to perform in smaller venues such as elevators, dentists’ offices and the lobby of Thorpe’s apartment building. Over the din of Kenny’s bass clarinet, the elevator doors could be heard as they slid open.

  After the elevator doors closed the lobby became unnaturally still. Any of the tenants who entered at that moment would surely wonder why Hank, the night doorman, had left his post at the entrance. And still others would wonder why the strong smell of shit hung heavy in the air of the lobby.

  At the desk a still steaming cup of coffee was a telltale sign that Hank hadn’t wandered far from his post. The curious tenant would surely think that Hank had simply stepped away to relieve himself in the bathroom down the hall and that was where the shit smell was originating from. However, if the clues did not satisfy the overly curious tenant, then they need only step behind the desk and there they would find Hank, or what once was Hank, lying on the floor, blood flowing freely from his nose, his head turned at an angle that only Linda Blair and dead people would be capable of accomplishing.

  The elevator stopped at the fifth floor. Its occupant exited and walked slowly down the hallway. When he reached apartment 507, he listened at the door. Hearing voices, he rang the doorbell.

  After a shower and change of clothes, Alex felt like a new man, human for a change. His ribs were still somewhat tender, but he knew they would heal within the hour. As he rounded the corner near the foyer, Alex was suddenly struck with an intense wave of predatory hatred. His senses were on full alert and the base of his neck drew into a knot like the hackles on a cornered cur. His body quivered with disquiet energy as he swung around to face the front door, feeling more than sensing the evil presence on the other side. The involuntary change swelled in him as his eyes started to fill with golden light, the humanity being driven from him by his animalistic urges.

  Marla saw Alex turn to the front door from her seat on the sofa. She thought, perhaps, he’d suddenly rem
embered something he’d forgotten, but when his body began to shake, she knew something was terribly wrong.

  “Dr. Thorpe? Are you all right?” she said, leaving her seat and taking a step toward him.

  When the doorbell rang and Alex didn’t answer, Marla stopped. Did he know someone was at the door? Alex said nothing and never took his eyes from the door. The doorbell rang again and Quong poked his head out of the kitchen, then moved over to the door. Before Alex could come out of his fugue, Quong had peered through the peephole and grasped the doorknob. “Quong! No!” Alex’s yelled, but the warning was too late. The door exploded, sending Quong flying against the wall.

  Stepping through the ruined door, his face a mask of blind rage, was James Harden.

  Marla leapt to her feet, pulling her weapon and bringing it to bear on him. She stared at him, confused. “Jamie?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, Marla. It’s a good thing I found you in time. It seems Thorpe here is some kind of loony tune,” Harden said.

  Marla was relieved to see Harden, but she kept her gun on him.

  “Hey, you gonna keep that thing pointed at me all night?” he said.

  Alex kept his eyes on Harden, to Marla he said, “That’s not your partner anymore.”

  Marla could not believe Alex’s statement.

  “What…” she said.

  “Hey, Marla, come on, it’s me, Jamie. We’ve been partners for five years, I even saved your life once.”

  “He’s one of them now, Marla. Don’t listen to him,” Alex said.

  Tears welled up in Marla’s eyes and she adjusted her grip on the gun. Harden took a step forward. “Don’t…don’t move, Jamie.”

  Harden stopped. “You gonna listen to him? He’s the cause of all the killing. It’s his doing.”

  Marla glanced at Alex. “Is that true?”

  Alex began to turn toward her, when Harden suddenly leapt at him. As a reaction Marla opened fire, emptying the entire clip into her partner. With the impact of each bullet Harden was thrown back toward the door, like an epileptic marionette on a mad puppeteer’s strings. Though Marla’s gun held eighteen hollow point rounds, Harden did not go down. Did not go down. Instead he shook it off, straightened himself then opened his coat and examined the wounds. “Good shot grouping, nice and tight. You always were a great shot, Marla, but it’s not enough, is it, Thorpe?”

  “Not even close,” Alex said, glaring at him.

  Marla looked on with terror as a fire ignited in Harden’s eyes. His clothes began to rip in places and he let out a trumpeting roar.

  “I wish you could feel the power, Marla. I can hardly believe it myself,” Harden said, his voice guttural, inhumanly low-pitched.

  Alex positioned himself between Harden and his friends, assuming a fighter’s stance. “You don’t have to do this, Harden. I can help you,” Alex said.

  “I don’t need your help,” Harden spat.

  The windows behind Marla suddenly exploded, and two hairy black beasts landed nimbly to the living room floor.

  “ I’ve brought all the help I need with me,” the Harden-beast said.

  Marla quickly ejected the expended clip from her gun and dropped it to the floor, popped in a fresh one and unloaded on the creature to her right. It was blown back, but managed to stay upright, rocking back on its heels from the shots. When Marla stopped firing, the creature righted itself and began stalking toward her.

  Just as he regained his senses, Quong was hit head-on by a dark figure. Pinned against the wall, he fought with all his strength to keep the drooling maw from his throat.

  Marla’s bullets had run out far too quickly. She looked around for something to fend off the creature. With nothing readily available, Marla threw her useless gun at it. The beast ducked under the flying weapon and stepped closer. Marla inched away from the thing and bumped into a small desk set against the wall and almost fell over backwards. As she caught herself, her hand passed over something. Glancing over she found a pair of knives, similar to the ones found at the crime scene in Agent Dorsey’s body. Her hand closed around one just as the beast reached her. A rough hand enclosed her throat and lifted her off the ground, causing her to drop the weapon. What sounded like a husky laugh came from the demon, as it pulled Marla toward its massive jaws.

  Terrified, Marla managed to tear her eyes away long enough to glance at the desk. One knife still remained. She groped for it, her hand fumbling over the desk, desperately trying to find the handle. The snout came closer and she gagged on the vile breath. This is it, she thought, this is how I’m going to die. Suddenly her questing hand grasped its prize and she plunged the dagger into the creature’s chest. “Fuck that!”

  The thing howled and threw Marla against the wall, its attention devoted to trying to dislodge the burning dagger. Marla looked up from where she had landed, “Die, you fucker!” she screamed. A moment later the beast obliged, falling to the floor with a gasp.

  Quong and the other beast were still locked against the wall. Quong managed to jam a finger into its eye, causing it to release him and step back. It recovered quickly, but Quong wasted no time and immediately went on the offensive, unleashing a flurry of blows, beating the monster back. Though stunned, the beast retaliated and pounded Quong back against the wall.

  Beaten nearly senseless, Quong raised his hands in a feeble defense, as it moved in for the killing blow. The creature closed in slowly, savoring its kill. It stopped abruptly and stared at him as if confused, then fell on top of him, dead, a silver knife protruding from its back.

  Behind the creature stood Marla, a smile on her face. “You owe me one,” she said.

  Alex and Harden wrestled around on the floor. Getting a foothold, Alex sent him flying. Landing near the sofa, Harden picked it up as though it weighed nothing and swung it at Alex, hitting him squarely in the chest. Alex went down hard and lay still. Harden threw the couch on top of him and turned his attention to Quong and Marla. “Your turn.”

  Behind Harden the sofa shifted and turned over. Alex got to his feet and faced Harden. “Not yet,” he said.

  Harden roared and pounced at Alex, who stepped aside, letting him run face first into the wall, blasting the sheet rock apart. Harden shook his head to clear it, then turned back to Alex and roared again. From the side, Marla said, “You don’t have to do this, Jamie.”

  Harden looked at her as though he did not recognize her, then leapt at Alex again. The pair locked in close combat, punching and kicking.

  Quong ran into the doorway to Alex’s war room and returned a moment later carrying a shotgun. He went over and handed it to Marla. She stared blankly at the weapon a moment, then attempted to sight in on Harden. Unable to get a clean shot, she fired it into the air.

  The two combatants stopped fighting and looked to the source of the blast. Marla stood with the gun pointed at Harden. He stared at the weapon warily, changing back to his human form once more. “Hey, Marla, put that gun down. It’s me, remember, good old James.”

  Marla looked down at the shotgun, tears streaming down her cheeks, the inner turmoil clearly showing on her face.

  Harden noticed her indecision and seized the opportunity, springing from Alex’s prone form. Marla brought the gun up and fired, pumped and fired again, and again until the chamber was empty, the deadly barrage of silvery pellets finding their mark. This time Harden went down and stayed.

  Marla stared at the lifeless body of her friend, letting the gun fall from her hand. It hit the floor with a dull thud. She kneeled down beside the body of her dead partner and began to sob uncontrollably. Alex had gotten up and came over to comfort her. He crouched beside her and placed his arm on her shoulder. “It’s okay, you had no choice.”

  Marla pushed him away roughly. “Damn you, this didn’t have to happen.”

  A lump formed in Alex’s throat, she was right, this didn’t have to happen. It was his fault. From the beginning, at D.F. 45, all his fault. He would carry the burden of the murders for the rest of his da
ys. He looked to Marla. “I am truly sorry. If I could change places with Harden, I’d do so in an instant. But, the pack knows where we are now, we have to get out of here,” he said, the lump causing his voice to crack.

  With his keen hearing, Alex could hear the sounds of sirens approaching. The battle had drawn the attention of the neighbors, causing them to alert the police. Alex helped Marla to her feet, then turned to Quong. “Get the equipment, we’re leaving.”

  “Yes, Doctor,” Quong replied.

  Serena sat in the center of the swarming mass of fur, the creatures caressing their mistress lovingly. She absently rubbed one as it nuzzled up to her leg.

  Kyle entered the chamber carrying the text triumphantly. Behind him a creature lumbered in with Silverman slung over its shoulder. They walked over to where Serena sat; Kyle kneeled and extended the book out to her. “Your prize, milady.”

  Serena took the text and rubbed the cover affectionately, then glanced back at Kyle. “You have done well, very well. This will not go unrewarded, but…”

  Kyle’s smile vanished at the sound of the interjection. He looked up to Serena.

  “…there is still another matter, which must be taken care of first,” she finished.

  “Thorpe?” he asked.

  “Very good. Yes, Thorpe, he killed five more of the pack tonight, including our newest member.”

  Kyle let out a growl. “How can this be?” he said.

  “The female cop is helping him and the Chinaman.”

  Kyle started to get up. “I’ll go at once and hunt him down.”

  “That won’t be necessary, I believe he will come to us. When he arrives, Morgan will deal with him.”

  Kyle showed a look of utter disgust. “We don’t need that freak to handle Thorpe, I am more than capable.”