The Original's Return (Book 1)

by David Watkins

  “Sir?” Salmon asked. “My friend.”

  “I didn’t see anyone else,” Knowles said with a frown. Salmon nodded once and tightened his grip on his rifle. Knowles knew better than to say something crass like they might all be alright.

  “We should barricade the door,” Claire said. She was very pale.

  “They have a grenade launcher,” Knowles said. “Not much point.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  He didn’t have a clue, then he saw the controls for the tannoy system.

  15

  Callum looked straight at the camera on the roof of the single storey building and waved.

  Cocky bastard. Steve watched the soldier with the broken arm. He was the one that had shot them in Devon. The one that had shot me. He was hungry and it would be easy, but he’d been told no. His moment would come. Just be patient.

  “Hey big man.”

  The voice was coming from the tannoy.

  “He’s in here. You can have him but you let them go and come get him by yourself.”

  Callum shook his head.

  “No-one else needs to die here today,” the voice said.

  Callum shook his head again.

  “Come in by yourself and we can talk.”

  Steve touched Callum’s arm. “Do it. You can take a bunch of toy soldiers.”

  Callum laughed. “I know that.”

  “We don’t know if they really do have an alarm. Maybe we should be quick.”

  “We can just blow the door off again.”

  “And risk hurting Jack? The Original?”

  “He would heal.”

  “Yes, but he might not take too kindly to getting hurt.”

  Callum mused that point, then nodded. “If I’m not back out in five minutes, you make sure they suffer.”

  “They will. I give you my word.”

  Callum handed him the grenade launcher and walked towards the building.

  16

  Knowles opened the door to let Callum in. He kept his body shielded behind the door. At the end of the corridor, both Salmon and Claire had their rifles aimed straight at Callum.

  Callum stepped into the corridor. “I am unarmed,” he said.

  Knowles pulled him forward and spun. Simultaneously, he kicked the door shut and pressed the barrel of his weapon against the back of Callum’s head. With his free hand, he entered the code to deadlock the door. “Don’t even fucking think about changing.”

  “I give you my word,” Callum said.

  “That the same word you gave to Carruthers before you ripped his throat out?”

  “I had to demonstrate my power and the futility of your situation.”

  “More of our troops will be here soon. Our situation is pretty fucking far from futile, and you just gave yourself up pretty easy.”

  “I want to see the Original,” Callum said. “Now.”

  “Why do you call him that?”

  “The Original?”

  “Yes. What the fuck is an Original?”

  Callum sneered at him. “You know nothing.”

  Knowles laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “You’ve got some bottle. No wrong moves, because I will kill you. I asked you a question.”

  “You cannot hope to understand.”

  “Try me.”

  “He is my God.”

  Callum walked down the corridor, with Knowles keeping the gun pressed tight to his neck. Claire moved into the room first, her weapon also trained on Callum. Salmon went in next and they took up positions in the corners of the room. Claire had her back against the shower curtain.

  Jack stood by his bed. He was trying to stand straight, with his chest out. As an attempt to look dangerous, it failed.

  Callum sank to one knee as soon as he saw Jack. “It is true, then.”

  Jack felt himself going red. He looked at Claire and Knowles in turn, but they were both frowning. The kneeling man kept his head bowed, even though three guns pointed at him. “Get up.”

  Callum remained on one knee. He raised his head to look Jack in the eye. “Are you going to lead us to overthrow the humans?”

  Now the colour drained from his cheeks and he felt weak. His legs were trembling but he forced himself to stand strong. “Please, what is your name?”

  “I am Callum. I have formed this Clan to free you. They are my gift to you.”

  “Well, Callum, get up,” Jack said. He waited until the man stood and then wished he hadn’t. Callum was at least a foot taller than him and twice as wide. Tribal tattoos lined both side of his neck and his arms were sleeves of ink. He was finding it hard not to be intimidated.

  “Give the word, and I will slaughter these people now.” Callum pointed at the others in turn.

  “No,” Jack said. “These people are not your enemy. No-one here is.”

  Callum looked confused. “But-”

  “No, Callum. Now, tell me what I am.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I don’t know anything.”

  “How…” Callum struggled to get his words out. “.. can you not know?”

  “What happened to me was an accident,” Jack said. “This was not meant to be.”

  “But you are an Original.”

  “I still don’t know what that means,” Jack said.

  Callum still wore the confused look of a child who had just been told there was no Father Christmas. “You must.”

  “Well, I don’t.” Jack looked in exasperation at Knowles.

  “Why don’t you tell us what that means?” Knowles said, giving Callum a nudge with the barrel of his gun.

  “The Originals came first. They were the ones that created us.”

  “Were they humans who could change?”

  Callum’s confused expression deepened. “No, they were the Originals.”

  “Well, that’s cleared that up then,” Knowles said. “You said he was a God.”

  “They came first. They are all powerful.”

  “A God?” Jack laughed. “You think I’m a God? You did this because you want to worship me?” His eyes flicked to the door. “It’s far too late for any of that.”

  17

  The wolves all turned as one at the sound. A soft thump, thump that got very loud, very quickly. Two dots in the sky increased in size until two Westland WAH-64 Apache helicopters came over the tree line. The wolves didn’t even have enough time to panic, not enough time to register the danger. Hellfire missiles and 70 mm rounds poured out of the first helicopter and thumped into the courtyard.

  Two buildings exploded and the wolves scattered. Mounds of earth and bodies flew into the air and limbs and rubble rained down. Then both helicopters opened fire with their chain guns. Tracer bullets flew across the scattered hordes of wolves, cutting through them efficiently.

  The air was filled with screams as the wolves were sliced apart. Limbs were blown off bodies; people were blown away from their limbs. A man in front of Steve had his head blown apart and his body quivered as if unaware he was already dead. Get inside; we’re fish in a barrel here.

  Steve made for the open building that the soldiers had abandoned, Anton close behind, unable to dispel the strains of ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ from his mind. Explosions rocked the courtyard, incinerating anyone within range. Bullets ripped bodies apart in seconds. Wolves and people ran in every direction. Most were cut to pieces. The sound of the guns eclipsed all other noise in the courtyard, almost a purring noise as bullets raked across flesh. Explosions punctuated the symphony and screams provided the coda. Some had nearly made it to the tree line, but the rest were being slaughtered.

  They ran into the building, bouncing off the wall as they entered the narrow corridor. Two more wolves tried to follow, but didn’t make it as far as the doorway. The inner room was carnage. Blood and flesh decorated the walls like some sort of Dali inspired wallpaper. They stood facing each other, hands on thighs, panting.

  “He took too long,” Steve gasped.

  “We n
eed to get out of here,” Anton said, a touch of panic in his voice. Never heard that before.

  “Any suggestions as to how we actually do that?” Steve said. He looked around the room and saw bits of paper lying in the corner. Natural curiosity got the better of him. He picked up the blood splattered paper, amazed that it was intact amongst the carnage.

  “No.”

  Steve smiled. “We wait for the helicopters to pass over again. They’ll come in to land soon after that, then we leg it. We need to be long gone before the reinforcements arrive.”

  “That’s a shit plan.”

  “You got a better one?”

  “It’s too exposed out there.”

  “No. The helicopters are it. That’s all. There are no ground troops, not yet anyway. When the helicopters finish a pass, we run.”

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  “Then it’s Butch and Sundance and we won’t worry about it for long.”

  “I want to kill him.”

  “I want to live.”

  Anton shrugged. “Where are we going to run to? They will hunt us down for this.”

  Steve smiled and held up one of the pieces of paper. “Stadler has a wife.”

  18

  They heard the rockets explode and the clatter of machine guns. The building shook but held firm. Don’t need wolf hearing to know the helicopters have arrived. Knowles grinned at Callum. All talk of Gods and Originals ended.

  “Yes!” Salmon shouted, punching the air.

  “Calm down,” Knowles said, turning to the young man. “We’re not out of the woods yet.” That’s the best sound I’ve heard all day. He turned his grin to Claire and she returned the smile. Her eyes lit up as she stared at him. You and me. Oh yes.

  Callum moved. With a roar he pushed his head back, connecting with Knowles’ nose. It cracked and blood pulsed onto his tunic. Callum spun, lifting his arm and punching Knowles on the chin. Knowles’ feet left the floor; he dropped his gun and crashed back into Salmon. They both fell to the ground and Salmon grunted as the air was forced out of his lungs.

  Callum leapt towards them but Knowles rolled clear. Callum’s mouth changed as he jumped, his nose and mouth extending, becoming wolf like. Salmon was still trying to regain his breath as Callum landed on him. He bit down on Salmon’s neck and there was another sickening crunch. Blood oozed out of the wound as Salmon tried to shout. He pressed his hands to the wound but it was a futile gesture.

  Claire screamed. Callum turned, his eyes bright yellow and gore dribbling down his chin. She fired three times. Two bullets went wild, smacking into the wall behind Knowles, making him duck. Callum roared as the third bullet tore into his changing leg. He jumped before she had a chance to aim and fire again. The impact sent the gun flying out of her hands as he landed on her chest and bit down on her face. He bit and bit until flaps of skin broke off and her face was a red mess of blood and exposed muscle.

  Jack stood still, his face white with shock. The entire fight had lasted less than ten seconds. He had ducked when Claire started shooting and now sat with his knees drawn up to his chest.

  Callum stood and turned to face Jack. His face started to return to normal and he was grinning. “Join us, Jack, and I’ll teach you how to do that.”

  Knowles shot him in the head at point blank range. Callum teetered for a moment, then collapsed, lying next to Claire, his head by her feet. They looked like a bizarre yin-yang symbol. Knowles shot him again and again and again until the gun clicked empty. Each bullet tore into Callum, destroying his head and chest, reducing them to a mass of torn flesh and gore.

  Knowles sank to his knees looking at Claire. She wasn’t moving. One of her eye sockets had broken and the eye was hanging out. He would never forget how she looked at that moment. However many times he tried to remember the look she’d given him mere seconds before, her face always morphed to the pulpy mess before him now. Her good eye was open, pupil wide and staring.

  19

  The first hellfire rocket exploded scant feet away from Jones. He was knocked off his feet and landed on Carruthers’ corpse. He got up quickly and took in the situation with the calm of an experienced combat veteran. Need cover. Now.

  Starky knelt next to him, covered in blood. He brushed fragments of flesh off his shoulder and looked at the pieces on the floor.

  “Smith,” he said.

  “Run!” Jones screamed. He dragged Starky to his feet and pushed him forward. The Captain staggered, and Jones felt his heart sink. Starky recovered his footing and started to run towards the barracks. Jones felt relief wash over him and ran after the man, cradling his arm against his stomach. The pain had subsided to a dull throb as adrenaline took over. Wolves and humans were streaming around the courtyard, panic evident in their cries. Nobody tried to stop them, and Jones took full advantage by ignoring the wolves too.

  They reached the cover of the corner building, opposite where Jack was being held. The helicopters had finished their first pass. Jones stopped, leaning against the building for support. Starky leant next to him. A gun lay on the floor next to them, a Browning pistol. Jones picked it up and grinned. First bit of luck today. Might still get out of this.

  “The cavalry!” Starky said.

  “Yeah, but they’re just shooting everybody,” Jones muttered. “We’re not in the clear yet.”

  A wolf leapt at them, taking Starky down with its weight. It tried to bite him, but Jones put his gun behind its ear and shot once. Its head exploded showering Starky with fresh gore. Jones didn’t think he’d mind.

  “Did it get you?” Jones had to ask twice. The noise from the rotors was getting louder again.

  Starky was checking himself like a man having an epileptic fit. “No,” he said.

  “Good,” Jones nodded. “We need to get to somewhere safer than this.”

  “We can get into the building where Stadler is.”

  Jones shook his head. “Those helicopters are shooting everything. The buildings will be next.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! They are here to save us.”

  Bullets started to tear up the courtyard again, pumping into the ground and bodies. Mortar, bricks and glass flew out of one of the buildings. Many of the wolves fled for the trees and the helicopters screamed after them. Hellfire rockets blew the tree line to shreds, turning trees into a deadly inferno. Screams of burning wolves filled the air, clearly audible even over the Apache engines.

  “Come on!” Starky shouted. He pulled at Jones and they ran around the corner, heading for Stadler’s cell. A wolf hit Starky from behind, pushing him to the floor. Starky grunted as he landed, all air forced out of his lungs. The wolf bit at the back of his head. A chunk of Starky’s skull and brain came out with the bite, dripping out of its mouth as it chewed.

  Jones didn’t have time to react as a second wolf swept his legs from under him. He crashed to the floor, dropping the Browning. The wolf bit into his leg, ripping through the fabric and muscle. Jones screamed as hot pain coursed up his leg. He felt an initial flood of warmth as the blood streamed out of his leg. Bone shone through the gore and tattered muscle and Jones knew he would not be able to walk again.

  Fur ran back into the wolf and a man stood grinning at Jones. The other wolf had finished feasting on Starky and padded over to stand next to the one who had bit him. Jones felt cold inside as he recognised the man.

  “Now,” Steve said, his face inches from Jones’, “you get to be like us.”

  He laughed, and a wolf burst out of him again and he was gone, heading in the opposite direction to the helicopters. A piece of paper he had been holding fluttered to the ground.

  Jones punched the floor and screamed at the sky. The helicopters engine noise was getting louder again. The courtyard was empty now, except for the dying and already dead. So close. No sign of Knowles. From where he lay, he could see Starky. His face was intact, an expression of surprise etched onto his features. Even at the angle he lay, Jones knew that the back of the man’s hea
d was missing.

  He scanned the courtyard, eyes coming to rest on a wolf lying only a couple of metres away. The wolf was whimpering, it’s big brown eyes full of pain. It had lost its rear legs and a large ugly piece of shrapnel stuck out of its belly. As Jones watched, the wolf’s breathing slowed, then stopped. There’s a man in there, stuck as a wolf forever. Jones dragged himself to where he’d dropped the gun.

  He put the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger without a moment’s hesitation.

  20

  Knowles stood after several minutes had passed. His face was dirty, a combination of mud and blood but underneath it was still pale. Tears had created streaks in the dirt and his eyes were red rimmed. Claire’s Browning was in his right hand, but he couldn’t remember picking it up. He walked to Jack, stepping over the bodies. He didn’t even look at Salmon’s body. The man’s head was at an unnatural angle, caused by the gaping hole in his neck. So young.

  “We should go,” Knowles said.

  Jack was sitting on the floor with his back to the wall. His head was resting on his knees and blood was beginning to pool around his army issue boots. He looked up, with similar eyes to Knowles.

  “Where? They will find me again,” Jack said.

  “I’m going,” Knowles said. “You coming or are you going to sit there and feel sorry for yourself?”

  Jack opened his mouth to complain, but ended up saying nothing. Instead he stood, unsteady on his feet for a second, and nodded at Knowles. “Let’s get help.”

  “Well, my plan is just to get the hell away from here, then worry about what to do next.”

  “I’m sorry about-” Jack began.

  Knowles whirled to face Jack. “Don’t say her name. Just fucking don’t.”

  Jack recoiled as Knowles turned back to the corridor. He was inching down it, Browning held in two hands in front of him. No sound came from the courtyard. Knowles exited the building first, scanning the courtyard with his gun.

  Nothing was moving. The courtyard was like the floor of an abattoir. Bodies, limbs and chunks of red coated gore lay scattered, occasionally separated by craters. One of the small buildings was on fire, two others were ruined husks. The barracks seemed intact, although it was pock-marked with bullet holes. Naked human bodies and wolves spread before him like a carpet from Hell. Amongst the bodies, on the opposite side of the courtyard to where he stood, Knowles could see two uniforms.