by Mark Fuson
“It’s good to have goals, no matter how lofty,” Kimbel replied.
Doctor Gagnon interjected, “Mister Kimbel, why don’t you and I head over to Hadamar? You can survey the building and give us your input on what upgrades we still must make. The Mayor has another appointment in a few minutes; we can always speak with Mayor Bollen later, should you feel the need.”
“Fine.” Kimbel rose from his seat, snapped his grip loose from the mug and left it near the edge of the old, wooden desk. He quickly grabbed Tara’s hand, firmly shaking it before moving to Darwin. Kimbel again extended his hand and made a point to look into his eyes. In that brief moment, Kimbel saw the lies. He had seen it all before. Neither man spoke a word.
Tara said warmly, “I’ll see you out, Mister Kimbel. Darwin, make yourself at home, we can start our meeting in a little while.”
“Thank you, Tara,” Darwin said to an office door that was more closed than open.
With the pleasantries over, Darwin found himself alone in the office that was his new life. The office was not his, and yet it was. The paintings on the walls and choice in wall paper were not his, but he left them out of respect for Tara. He was the alpha male, in charge of everyone and everything. He was Mayor to his community, but for appearances, Tara reprised her role as Mayor for outsiders, as needed. She was nothing more than a puppet for the world at large to deal with. Darwin was young, and to sell the lie he knew it was best he be only a leader to the group; the idea-man.
When Darwin realized that the gift could alter the way a person viewed the world he began to see how anyone could be made a lycan. Tara’s family had all been decimated by Darwin, but with a little bite and some blood she had turned from the angry prisoner in Special Handling to a soldier; lock and step behind her new master. He considered destroying her, but the experiment showed the power the gift had over a person, and how it could make them do things they might not otherwise do. Even though her family was gone, Tara seemed content in her new existence.
Darwin was in charge because he was first lycan in New Haven. It was his ideas that created the utopia they now lived in. Everyone looked to him as though he was some mystic who knew a great deal about the power, but in truth Darwin knew nothing. He kept on with his leadership role, reassuring the citizens that food and privacy would always be plentiful.
Since moving into the mayor’s office six months earlier, Darwin had changed little in the work space though nothing stopped him from doing whatever he wanted. The only renovations he had done was having a bedroom and bath installed next to his office for the late night entertaining he assumed he would engage in. Since its completion, Darwin had only used it for private time with himself.
He slumped in the leather chair, reclining enough to put his feet on the desk. The art on the wall he found himself most transfixed by was the Doolittle lithograph titled Power of One. It was the depiction of an Indian on a horse charging from the mouth of a cave, as though he was about to go to war. In typical Doolittle fashion, there were images surreptitiously concealed within the art. Like white noise, the bears watched their prey secretly, waiting to lunge at the perfect moment. For now, they chose only to reveal themselves to the fears of imagination.
Darwin wasn’t sure why he liked this picture, but it was the one he found himself lost in the most.
Somewhere between sleep and rest Darwin sunk away from the lithograph and cracked his eyes to find himself in a place he had not been since December. The underworld had again taken him and he was at the stone altar in his mind. The cave room was silent except for what sounded like a winter storm howling beyond the rock. The weather was not loud, but present.
“You have done well despite our warnings,” a voice broke in.
“Thank you,” Darwin replied, excited to hear from his masters.
“Gratitude is irrelevant. Your plan must proceed,” the voice returned.
“It is moving ahead,” Darwin stated. “You must be aware of that?”
“Progress is slow, you must accelerate the plan.” Now it was a trio of voices.
“Explain?” Darwin asked.
The masters lectured: “Complacency. Someone approaches, but they remain hidden to us.
Destruction approaches,” the voices breathed. “Complacency must be replaced or face your end,” The sound of three voices came from one face now; a powder white canvas with no eyes, nostrils, or mouth now at an intimidating distance from Darwin.
“Why do you come to me if you can’t give me answers? I can’t do my job if I don’t know what to watch for!”
“Remain vigilant, young Darwin,” all three voices said.
Darwin was again in his office with his feet on the desk just as they had been before. The voices of the other world were now gone, replaced with two onlookers sitting on the opposite side of the desk with one clearing his throat.
“Are you okay, Darwin?” Tim Waters asked. “That was a damn deep sleep you were in.”
“I’m fine, just a little tired, I guess,” he lied. “Why are you two here?”
Clint Littleford responded like a college frat dressed sloppily for a Halloween party. “Now I’m hurt! It’s Tuesday, beer night!” He wore a plain leather patch to cover his badly scarred eye that Caroline had clawed from its socket months earlier. He could see, but the eye looked more like a tattered rectum, so he opted to keep it covered. Clint held up an eighteen pack by its cardboard handle. “You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Sorry, it’s just been one of those days. Actually beer is probably a great idea. Mind if Caroline comes along? I promised her we’d let loose tonight and chase down some prey.”
“Only if we can get in on that action! What did you have in mind?” Clint asked like a child at Christmas.
“I thought we’d make a withdrawal from Special Handling and release them in the woods. While they run and spread the scent of fear, we can change and do what we do best. Then we can have ourselves some fun!”
“What’s the celebration?” Tim asked.
“It’s a celebration of who we are,” Darwin said simply. “It’s time we let out our untamed animal. I thought it would be fun.” Darwin reached out for a beer while finishing off his JD with his free hand. “A part of me has been dying to go wild. Nothing has compared to my first kill. I’m curious to relive it.”
Clint passed a beer to Darwin and Tim before seating himself. “I’ve never really done that before. What’s it like?”
Tim broke in, “My first kill could never be recreated. When I killed those assholes from school with my bare, changing hands, I’d only had the gift in me for an hour. I’d never changed before. I got to learn about the gift as I killed. It was a real mind fuck!”
Darwin smiled, “don’t you want to look your prey in the eyes in your human form, tell them they have ten minutes to run as fast as they can? Part of me is developing a keen sense for the fear that humans emit. If they know what I am and what I will do to them—that fear will build inside them as they run. The smell will be secreted throughout the woods and there will be nowhere for them to hide. Doesn’t that thought excite you?”
Clint shrugged in a noncommittal way before drinking his beer, “sounds like a lot of work for a meal, but I guess it does have an appealing side to it.”
“I think our sophisticated existence, the breeding program, the hospital, the homeless shelters…that’s all great. We have food to sustain us, but at the same time we’ve restrained our inner animal. I want to explore it—let it out.”
“Hear, hear!” Tim said, raising his beer for a quick toast before bringing the conversation back to sophistication. “How was the meeting with Riverview?”
“It was a meeting.” Darwin started thinking about his earlier lie. “The Director of Riverview doesn’t want New Haven to have the facility. Fortunately for us, he was overruled. The hospital will be relocating here very soon. It sounded like the faster we can take the patients the happier Riverview would be.” Darwin paused a moment then pres
sed on. “Can I ask your opinion on something?”
Tim and Clint both nodded their heads in unison. Settling in to their chairs with a beer in hand, the two waited for their friend and master to open up. They knew if Darwin was asking for an opinion, the matter had to be a serious one.
“I have a nagging feeling that something is coming for us. I can’t put my finger on it.” Darwin again opted to keep his secret. If they knew the voices of the underworld had spoken to him they would realize the threat was serious, but Darwin wasn’t there yet.
“Of course they’re coming for us!” Tim said. “We made a lot of people disappear. There’s always going to be people nosing around looking for loved ones who just disappeared. We’ve been having that happen for months already. Our stock answers are still working and we still control the investigative bodies. Sure, the time may come where we are forced to infiltrate federal agencies to help keep the secret, but the plan worked! Okay, we could be more proactive and monitor the internet; quash rumors before they begin-but I’m not aware of anything big causing us problems, are you?”
Darwin looked back to the lithograph for answers but saw the same thing he always did.
War.
Darwin sighed. “We took away thousands of people and locked them up underground so they could be our food. We got away with it. I don’t think what’s coming has much to do with that. I don’t know, Tim, I just don’t know.”
“Whatever made us is protecting us, and will continue to protect us,” Tim said confidently.
“I agree. I feel like nothing we do is stoppable. Every time a problem comes up we deal with it swiftly.” Clint replied.
Darwin looked at his friend, “that’s just the point, Clint. We might be getting complacent. If the outside world became aware of our existence there’s no telling what kind of problems we might have. The days of the witch hunt might just resume. We must do everything in our power to ensure that never happens.”
“What are you suggesting?” Tim asked.
“We must look to expand beyond our borders. Our kind must come into positions of power outside of New Haven. If we don’t do this, I’m afraid our existence will be a short one.”
Darwin continued explaining his vision in more detail. His two students listened without interruption.
Chapter Four
The bond between the captives quickly eroded. Less than two minutes running full tilt ahead of the hunt, the frontrunner had already pulled well ahead of the others…so much so the dawdler’s whimpers could barely be heard.
Nancy Betmin was a former Ridgemount track star and although she had been out of school for many years, she had kept up her athleticism. Six months of imprisonment had eaten away at her frame considerably, but the fresh air and prospect of freedom gave her the energy and drive she needed to pull away from the others. She had no idea of where she was or where she would go, only the knowledge that she needed to move quickly and take any opportunity that appeared.
It was no secret what she was up against. For months captives in Special Handling had known what their purpose was. The prisoners knew they were nothing more than a frozen dinner waiting to be consumed by the next hungry beast. Folklore was discussed, plans were formulated, but as their numbers continued to decline the prisoners began giving up and opting for death, instead. At feeding time, the defeated would make their way to level one and hand themselves over to bring about an end to their suffering. On this night Nancy and three others were the lucky ones selected. In the early days of Special Handling, selecting people to die was difficult—now the opposite was true. Death was a gift. When prisoners were requested to hand themselves over on level one, anyone wishing to die could go when called; but not all would be selected.
Nancy had gone to level one every day for two weeks hoping she would be selected. It was Darwin himself that chose Nancy. From a platform beyond the gates, Darwin pointed at the young woman and told her to move forward. He had only selected her because out of the entire crowd she appeared to be the most worthy to offer him an honorable chase.
Now panting heavily, Nancy ploughed through the bushes in search of a safe harbor. Her eyes had adapted to the darkness of the mine and she found being outside, she was able to see better at night than ever before. Finite details emerged to her within the blur of leaves and rocks. All she could do was keep moving and pray for a miracle. Time was no longer a certainty.
Was it one minute, or five?
She knew she had ten minutes but how many had already elapsed? A selfish thought entered her mind; she would know how close they were by the screams of death coming from behind. There would be three, but so far there had been none.
She would keep running no matter how much her body hurt.
“Think, Nancy!” she mumbled to herself under her short breath.
Nancy knew her clock was running out and if she had any hope of survival, she had to become inventive in her thinking. She knew running was a waste of time, but it was also necessary to put distance between herself and her killers. In her heart she knew out running her attackers could never succeed. She was simply too weak. She needed to mask her scent and attempt to hide; perhaps waiting out her hunters’ patience. She ran ideas through her mind but without certainty of what could actually work, desperation began to set in. Breathing deeply through her nose, she hoped she would catch the scent of another animal or plant…but all she found was snot sickles draining from her nostrils.
The silhouette of a path emerged; it was narrow but defined, like a game trail. She locked her sights on the constricted line and quickened her pace. With fewer obstacles colliding with her, she began to increase her distance from danger by leaps and bounds. Above the trail in the opening of the trees, the nearly full moon cast its light on the path illuminating the way. The tunnel in the trees seemed to stretch on forever and the harder Nancy pushed, the smaller her corridor became. She wanted to collapse and wait for death, but something inside her told her to press on. Salvation was near, she could feel it.
In the distance the monsters began to change. They were coming.
If Nancy could have stopped sobbing and snorting long enough, she may have heard the demonic transformations and howls of joy happening. Her mind had moved into survival mode and nothing else computed with her. She had been running so fast she hadn’t realized her feet were bleeding from the jagged rocks she had cut them on during her flight. The blood would help to amplify her course for her pursuers; she was unaware how grave her situation was becoming.
The sounds of change ended and a new shrill filled the woods; the commencement of the hunt. A distant growl and the forest was again silent, but only for a moment. The first kill came quickly; a man that Nancy had not known personally but had seen as they were escorted from the mine. He was in his forties and not in good shape. His screams were short lived, only to be ended with a gargle that drifted through the tree tops like the chime of a clock.
The second strike came on the heels of the first; a woman in her fifties that Nancy had known as Julie. She had been independently wealthy, the beneficiary of a large divorce settlement ten years earlier. She was snuffed out with a whimper.
Nancy was running out of time and unless something occurred to her soon, she knew that Darwin would be lapping at her backside in mere moments. The trees seemed endless, as did her escape route. The smell of skunk cabbage drifted past her nose briefly and she considered stopping to investigate. The smell was pungent, but would it be enough? Her mind went binary, flipping between zero and one; yes and no before siding with no. She reached down inside her soul and found the last spec of adrenaline in her spirit and stoked her inner fire. She moved on faster than before, her sobs restrained as she focused. Her next few minutes would be live or die for her.
When she hit a man-made gravel intersection, it reminded her of a walking trail at McCarran Park. With a nearly full moon above in direct alignment with her new path and an owl flying overhead, Nancy pressed on with meek optimism. Her bina
ry decision marker switched to an emphatic yes. It was all she could do aside from giving up entirely.
The third kill chime never came, or if it did, Nancy never heard it.
Fear and blood painted the way through the trees and Darwin had become aroused at the prospects. He had now left behind his pack in pursuit of his own kill. Darwin had selected Nancy because he could see her vigor for life was still present in her, even if she thought otherwise. The chase had ended quickly for his friends and they were enjoying a supple meal, but Darwin was far more satisfied running through the night chasing a worthy prey. The odor of fear she had left was faint compared to the other inferiors, but the blood from her feet gave Darwin an edge.
It pleased him that Nancy had made great distance in such a short time. If anything, the more difficult it was to catch her the more it excited him. She would meet her end, but her stress of trying to evade her slaughter gave pleasure for Darwin to no end. Her attempt to out run him was hopelessly futile…she was only delaying the inevitable. He wondered if she was thinking of how it would happen. Would she be torn to pieces, or left to bleed out? Would Darwin bite her and make her his sex slave? The excitement infused him and he could barely control himself.
Darwin’s wolf stood on his hind legs at the edge of a large, grassy area in what he knew to be the McCarran Park picnic area. The footprints of Nancy Betmin briefly entered the grass, leaving distinct marks in the dew. The prey was cunning; having realized her mistake, she had retreated quickly from the grass, back-stepping over her footprints returning to the gravel then moving away from the barbeque pit. On a hunch Darwin ran across the grass leaving behind the smell of copper. His instincts told him that his meal was moving towards the picnic huts.
