by Amy Cross
"Who are you?" I ask.
I hear a snort of laughter. "You'll find out when the sun comes up," says the male voice.
"Please," I say, almost begging. "You've got to tell me what's going on".
"I haven't got to tell you anything," says the male voice quietly. "Go to sleep. When morning comes, you'll understand everything". There's a pause, before he adds: "May the Lord have mercy on your soul".
"What does that mean?" I ask, but there's no reply. "Someone talk to me!" I shout, but everyone's ignoring me now. For a few minutes, I shuffle around the cage, testing for weak points, trying to find a way out. But it's useless, and I can't even find the lock. After what seems like an eternity, I give up. I find myself curled up in the corner of the cage, my eyes open and staring into the complete darkness all around me. I have no idea what time it is, or when the sun is going to come up, or what I'll see when it gets light. What's out there in the dark, beyond the bars of my cage? What... and who?
Suddenly there's a blast of light from behind me. I turn to see a door opening, and a dark figure entering the room.
"Who's making the noise?" asks a dark, deep, gruff voice.
"The new one," whispers the female voice from earlier.
I hear the figure walking towards me. There's a pause, and then something stabs me, like a needle going straight into my shoulder. I shout out and pull back, trying to get away, but in this cage there's not far for me to go. I hold my shoulder, which has a kind of stinging pain. Slowly, I realise my eyelids are getting heavy. I try to stay awake, but there's something wrong with me. Even as I try desperately not to fall asleep, I sink into unconsciousness. My last thought is: I can't die here. Not yet. Not before I find Duncan.
1
When I open my eyes again, it's morning. It takes me a moment to orient myself, but as I sit up I realise I'm still in the cage, with about other six other cages all around. In each cage, there's a person sleeping. We seem to be in some kind of tent, and there's no floor, just grass. There's the sound of busy construction work outside, as if people are hammering and moving large equipment. There's also the distant hum of people chattering as they work. What the hell is this place?
I check my shoulder and find a little red pinprick where the needle went in. It must have been a pretty powerful sedative to knock me out so fast, and I still feel pretty groggy. My head is pounding and I'm sore and achy from sleeping curled up in this cage. I've also just realised I'm wearing the same clothes I was wearing to the club with Lacey. How long ago was that? How long have I been asleep?
"Relax," says a voice from nearby. It's a familiar voice, belonging to the woman who spoke to me last night in the dark. I turn to see her in the next cage. She's a little older than me, maybe late 20s or early 30s, with short blonde hair and big brown eyes. "Don't worry," she adds. "The last thing they want to do is hurt you. Okay?"
I stare at her for a moment, not sure what to say.
"You're mad at me," she says. She seems amused by the whole situation, even though she - like me - is curled up in a small metal cage. "That's understandable. I'm sorry about last night, but I really needed to sleep and you were being so... loud and uncouth".
"Sorry about that," I say quietly. "I guess I don't like being kidnapped and put in a cage".
She laughs. "Who does, darling? But you've got to be smart. Bide your time, wait for the right moment. It'll come". She grins. "What's your name, darling?"
"Jess," I say cautiously.
"Nice to meet you, Jess," she says. "I'm Darla. I've got a feeling we're going to get on real good together".
I'm not so sure about that. "Sorry," I say, "but I won't be here long enough to make friends". I look around at the tent, and at the other cages. "Where is this place, anyway?" I ask.
"Welcome home," Darla says, "to Vigrous Grinde's Travelling Circus of the Uncanny".
I stare at her, trying to make sense of what she just said. "Who's What of the What Now?" I ask, confused.
She says it again, more slowly this time. "Vigrous. Grinde's. Travelling. Circus. Of. The. Uncanny". She looks at me as if that should explain everything. "You've heard of a circus before, haven't you, darling?"
"Of course I fucking have," I say, starting to get irritated by how laid-back Darla seems to be about the whole thing. "But what... who... Vigrous... Grinde?"
"Our lord and master," Darla replies, with a sense of laid-back irony in her voice. "The man who brought us all together under this shabby cloth roof and decided to take us on this wonderful permanent vacation". She smiles, then she sighs, as if she's impatient that I don't understand. "It's a freak show, darling. We're in a freak show. Okay?"
"Watch who you're calling a freak!" I say.
"What, you're not?" Darla says. That infuriating smile has returned. "You don't think most people find werewolves to be a tad... freaky?"
I narrow my eyes as I look at her. "How do you... What makes you say that I'm a werewolf?"
"Darling," she replies, "you wouldn't be here if you weren't one of us".
"One of us?" I ask.
She nods. "Hell, darling, we're the highlight of the show! We're what people pay good money to come and see! We're the main attraction!" She grins. "It's alright. You're among friend here. We all share the same... affliction".
"Ha!" says another voice from nearby. I turn to see an older man, late 50s, in the next cage along. He has a gruff, dark voice. "If we're the main attraction," he says grumpily, "why don't we get top billing?"
"It'll come, darling," Darla says.
"Not as long as you-know-who's around," he says.
Darla smiles, but this time it seems forced and awkward. "Her shelf life is running out, mark my words".
"Who?" I ask.
"We're just the support," says the man. "We're the monkeys who open the show, but the audience is really here for the main event. And that sure ain't a bunch of shabby old wolves".
"This is Stephen," says Darla. "The grumpiest werewolf you'll ever meet. Hasn't figured out yet that he should just relax and get on with his life. We're fed good here, we're looked after, we're free to socialise".
"Then why are we in fucking cages?" I ask.
"That's just while we sleep," Darla says. "In case of... accidents. We'll be let out for the day soon enough".
"I'm not an animal," I say.
Darla pauses, then she opens her mouth to reply but there's a noise behind me. I turn to see two men enter the tent and come straight over to my cage. Grabbing an end each, and without saying a word, they lift the cage onto a trolley and start wheeling me away.
"Seeya later, darling," Darla calls out. "Have fun with the big man".
"Where are you taking me?" I ask, looking up at the men. I bang on the side of the cage. "You have to let me out of here right now, okay? Right fucking now!"
The men ignore me, simply wheeling me out the door and into a huge grass field, with various other tents set up around us. It's a bright, sunny day and people seem to be working happily, putting up the tents for what appears to be a cross between a carnival and a freak show. None of them pay me any attention at all.
"Hey!" I shout. "Help!"
But they ignore me. A couple of them glance over at me, so they definitely heard me. It's simply that they don't care. Apparently seeing a girl in a cage is an everyday occurrence around here. How can they be like this? How can they just ignore the fact that another human being is being treated like an animal? Or do they know that I'm not really a human being, at least not completely, not any more. Since Duncan saved my life by changing me into a werewolf, I've been something entirely different. Most people don't seem to notice, but maybe the people at this carnival understand that I'm not human. Maybe they think I deserve to be treated like an animal. Hell, maybe they're right, maybe I do. Maybe I belong in a freak show.
But that doesn't mean I'm staying...
2
I will not scream.
I will not scream.
I will not
scream.
I will not -
The blade slams into my shoulder, ripping through the flesh and bone, nearly shearing my entire right arm away.
3
"The death of a werewolf is a horrific thing," says the fat man sitting at the desk. He speaks slowly, with a clear sense of his own importance. "To see a proud, noble beast suffer and fall is... not something I would ever wish to witness again. But we must accept that there are people out there who are working for the total eradication of the werewolf species". He leans forward and reaches out a fist, which he clenches and shakes at me. "They want to grind you all up and pretend you never existed. Do you understand? They will not rest until every werewolf has been eradicated. And that, my dear girl, is why I have created this sanctuary for creatures such as yourself who are in need of salvation".
Crouched in my cage in the middle of Vigrous Grinde's office, I don't feel much like I'm being saved right now. I feel like I'm being held prisoner. "I'm not a creature," I say firmly. "And I'd really like it if you could let me out of this cage".
Grinde stares at me, narrowing his eyes. He takes a long puff on his cigar, then he nods, gets to his feet and wobbles around his desk. "Of course," he says, smiling as he bends down and unlocks the front of the cage, pulling the door open and standing back.
Cautiously, I crawl out of the cage and stand up. My back is killing me and I feel like I've gone ten rounds with a dozen Mexican wrestlers, with bruises all over my body.
"So that's it?" I ask. "I can just walk out of here?"
Grinde sighs as he walks back around his desk and sits down again. "Not exactly," he says. "You see, the thing is this. In order to ensure that my carnival remains under the radar, I have to exercise a certain degree of control. And that means I can't just let anyone waltz out whenever they feel like it".
"I never felt like waltzing in in the first place," I say firmly.
"Quite," he says. "Nevertheless, you are here now. You'd better stay. It'll be better for all concerned".
"Sorry," I reply. "No way. I have things to do, and even if I didn't, being part of some freak show isn't exactly a great lifestyle choice. And there's nothing you can do to keep me here".
He stares at me for a moment. "Then you must try to leave".
I nod. "There's no question of 'trying' to leave. I'm leaving".
"Goodbye," he says, smiling.
There's something deeply unnerving about the way he's dealing with this. It's clear that he doesn't believe I'll go through with my threat to leave.
"Goodbye," I say. "I'd thank you for the hospitality, but..." I look down at the cage. "It wasn't really up to much".
"You'll learn," he says. "Soon enough you'll see that it's a good life here. Would you really rather be out there in the real world, being hunted to extinction by humans? In here you have a certain degree of protection. Safety in numbers".
"What happened to my friend?" I say. "I was with a friend when I was captured. What did you do to her?"
Grinde shrugs. "I have no idea. I was offered you by some independent gentlemen over whom I have no control. I hope that they wouldn't do anything foolish to your friend, but the matter is quite out of my hands".
"Well," I say slowly, "it's not out of my hands".
I step towards him.
"Don't do anything foolish," he says. "We're very traditional around here, but we have our limits of endurance".
I walk around the desk, preparing to show this guy exactly what I think about him. I can feel the anger building inside me, and I'm pretty sure it's the kind of anger that's going to help me change. If I can get into my wolf form, I can rip this guy to shreds, which is better than he deserves. I just wish I could change at will, the way Duncan does, but I'm still learning. For now, I still think -
A sudden jolt of pain strikes the back of my neck, pounding down my spine. I drop to my knees, crying out in agony. It's a kind of pain I've never felt before, something so intense it feels like it's deep, deep within my body. It takes almost half a minute for it to subside, by which point I'm close to tears.
"Like I said," Grinde continues. "I wouldn't do anything foolish, if I were you".
I look at the desk and see that he has a small device in his hand. What the hell is that? And how did he cause that pain in my spine? Determined to get out of here, I lunge for him, but he presses a button on the device and I fall back in agony once again, writhing on the floor until the pain goes away. As I get to my feet, my spine feels sore.
"It's a good deal," Grinde says. "We'll feed you. We'll keep you safe. You'll have the company of other wolves, other creatures. All you have to do in return is help us put on a little show now and again".
I'm still slightly out of breath. "You can't do this," I say firmly.
"It's not a matter of what I can or can't do," he replies. "Or even what I should or shouldn't do. It's a matter of what is. Accept the situation and you'll be very happy here". He smiles, his finger still on the button. "Don't you agree that acceptance would be the best course of action?"
There's a sudden sound outside the office, with raised voices followed by a man crying out in pain. Vigrous gets to his feet and heads to the door. "I must see what's happening," he says quickly, obviously concerned. Before he leaves, he turns to me. "Good luck with your escape attempt, and I look forward to our next meeting. Same time tomorrow?" With that, he heads out of the tent, taking the little device with him, leaving me standing there in his office.
I feel the back of my neck. There's a small bump, like a little scar, as if something has been slipped under the skin. I remember years ago, my family took our dog to the vet and he got a microchip placed under his skin. I guess this is similar, except it's somehow hooked up to deliver a jolt of pain to my spine. I'll have to find a way to get rid of it.
Frustrated by his attitude, I walk to the door and watch as Grinde heads over to where a group of men are gathered in the middle of the field, standing around another man who seems to be injured.
"What the hell happened here?" he barks at the group of men.
"What do you think happened?" one of the men replies, sounding angry. "Look at him! What the hell do you think did this to him?"
I walk out of Grinde's tent and walk up behind Grinde. As I get closer, I see that there's a man lying motionless on the floor, his face covered in blood, flesh from his chest ripped away. He's still alive - just - and he's writhing in pain, one blood-covered hand reaching up to the others.
"Well what was he doing?" Grinde shouts, clearly annoyed and showing absolutely no compassion at all. "Was he following the new rules?"
"Fuck your rules," another of the men says. "You can't have rules to deal with that thing. She's worse than a fucking werewolf".
"This is the sixth man in a month," another man pipes up.
"I know! I know!" Grinde says angrily. "But if you would all follow the rules, none of this would ever happen. The rules are there for a reason, I don't just set them because I feel like telling you all what to do. What am I supposed to do, throw our prize specimen out just because her handlers can't keep their hands to themselves?"
"It's not safe," says one of the men. "You've got to sort it out. There's no way you can ever make it safe in there".
"She needs to be restrained," another one says.
"She needs her throat cut," says a third.
"Are you mad?" Grinde says, turning to the last man. "You want to chain her up? To muzzle her? To kill her? Have you looked at her? Don't you see her beauty? She's worth ten of you lowlife idiots. A hundred. How dare you suggest that such a beautiful creature -"
"This ain't beautiful!" the man shouts, pointing at the bleeding, injured man on the ground. "There's nothing beautiful about this!"
"All beauty needs its opposite," Grinde says, "otherwise -"
"This isn't right!" another man shouts.
"No," says Grinde. "This is unfortunate and -" He suddenly stops and turns, having apparently sensed my approach. "What
are you doing here?" he asks. "Get away. I thought you were going to try to escape!"
"I am," I say, looking down at the injured man. He's barely moving now, as if he's almost completely bled out into the grass. His outstretched hand is still moving, a little, covered in blood and twitching slightly.
"He's dying," says Grinde, a hint of sadness finally entering his voice. "He's not one of the specimens, he's a support worker. Just a human".
I get closer, looking at the holes in the man's body where chunks of flesh have been ripped out. Having hung out with Duncan for so long, this kind of damage is vaguely familiar. "Did a werewolf do this to him?" I ask.
Grinde steps in my way, blocking my view. "No," he says firmly, "a werewolf did not do this to him. Werewolves don't kill for pleasure, as you should know. And they don't play with their victims, they don't torture them. That's not what she's about at all. Not at all".
"Who's this 'she' you keep mentioning?" I ask.
"Never mind," he replies.
"If she's not a werewolf," I say, "what is she?"
"None of your business," Grinde says firmly.
"Sir?" says a voice from behind. Grinde turns. "Sir," says a man who is kneeling by the victim, "he's dead".
Grinde takes a deep breath and sighs. "Then you know what to do. Bury him," he says eventually. He stares at the dead man. "And don't forget to put a Bible in his hand. We don't want another nasty surprise during the night".
With that, Grinde storms past me and heads back to his tent. The men start to lift the body and carry it away, and I watch for a moment before walking back over to the tent in which I woke up this morning. I find Darla standing there, leaning against a post. She's watching the scene with a sad, resigned look on her face, as if she's seen it all before.
"Poor thing," she says, looking past me as I approach.
"I don't think he had a painless death," I say, making to walk into the tent.
"I'm not talking about him," Darla says. "I'm taking about her".
