The Frenzy Wolves

by Gregory Lamberson

  Come on. Follow me, Rhonda thought. I dare you. You won’t know what hit you.

  The boys remained at their corner, and Rhonda explored the Bronx at night. She wandered the streets, taking in the tall concrete residential buildings and inhaling the scents of the city. She pretended she had no destination, but she knew exactly where she was going.

  On the outskirts of Pelham Bay Park, Rhonda crossed the cracked parking lot of a garage and followed its chain-link fence into a field, the full moon providing a sheen of illumination. A dog’s sudden bark from just a few feet away caused her to flinch, and when she turned a Doberman lunged at the other side of the fence. Tensing her body, Rhonda told herself she was in no danger and bared her fangs at the dumb animal. She emitted a low growl that sent the dog away, whimpering.

  Penetrating the darkness, she reached a graveyard of rusted vehicles, mostly buses and construction equipment, arranged to form corridors. Her sneakers crushed broken glass, and she peeked through the spaces between the stacked vehicles, searching. Orange light flickered in the distance, and she made her way in its direction, drawn like a flying insect to a lightbulb. She spied four figures highlighted by flames rising from a metal barrel between them: two males standing and two females sitting side by side on a seat that had been disengaged from a car. All four were her age.

  T-Bone was stocky and wore his hair in a dyed blond fade. A gold tooth gleamed in his mouth when he laughed. He shoved a taller boy, a dark-skinned Dominican called Lincoln because his hair resembled a stovepipe hat. Lincoln emitted a high-pitched squeal as he staggered back, and T-Bone raised his forty of Olde English to his lips. The wind blew their familiar scents toward Rhonda, who approached them without fear.

  Raina leapt to her feet, and the others followed her gaze to Rhonda. Diane stood up as well. They wore trendy clothes designed to resemble street fashion, with strategically placed tears, patches, and brand names.

  Rhonda felt the warm light of the fire on her features as she drew closer. A faint growling rose over the crackling of the fire, and she turned to Raina. “Drop your hackles, bitch.”

  Raina took a step forward and jabbed at the air with one hand. “Who the fuck are you calling bitch, you skank?”

  Rhonda smiled. “Watch who you’re calling a skank . . . bitch.”

  Raina drew her lips back in a quivering snarl.

  “Chill, Raina.” The fifth member of the party stepped out of the shadows. Daniel: tall and thin, with light brown hair and fuzz on his chin. He zipped his fly, then sniffed the air. “She’s one of us.”

  Rhonda kept smiling.

  “Who you belong to, girlie?”

  “None of you recognize me?” Rhonda said.

  “Oh, shit, I know her,” Diane said. “That’s Rhonda Wilson. We had trig together.”

  Raina narrowed her eyes. “So?”

  “You chopped your hair,” T-Bone said. “You look all punk rock and shit.”

  “I thought you were in witness protection,” Lincoln said.

  Rhonda stood as close to the barrel as she could without getting burned by the flames. “No, but Gabriel’s got me staying with a Wolf cop.”

  “I’m sorry about Jason and your parents,” Diane said.

  “You didn’t kill them.” Rhonda gestured at the twinkling lights of the city. “They did.”

  “I thought the Brotherhood was going to kill you for sure,” Diane said.

  Rhonda’s nostrils flared. “I was too tough for them.”

  Daniel moved around the barrel and looked down at her. “What are you doing here?”

  Rhonda shrugged. “I need to be with my own kind. My own age.”

  “She wants to join us,” T-Bone said with a grin. “We’re the shit.”

  Daniel kept staring at Rhonda’s eyes, the flames crackling beside him. “Is that right? You want to join us?”

  Rhonda glanced at the others. They had all been outcasts in school, but at least they had stuck together as Wolves. She and Jason had socialized with more studious classmates—humans. “And be a drug dealer?”

  “It’s what we do.”

  T-Bone held up a joint. “You’d better toke up and show us you’re not a narc.”

  “I’ll pass,” Rhonda said. The last thing she wanted was something that would dull her pain. Her pain fed her anger, and that was all she had.

  “We’re just small-time,” Daniel said. “We move what we need to in order to support ourselves. And all we deal is weed.”

  “I bet Gabriel doesn’t know that.”

  “I don’t care what Gabriel knows. We do our own thing.”

  Rhonda liked his answer. “Maybe I’ll give you a shot.”

  “Please,” Raina said.

  “You have to pass an initiation test first,” Lincoln said.

  “Like what?” Rhonda said.

  “You have to sleep with one of us.”

  Rhonda snorted. “You expect me to pledge myself for life to one of your sorry asses?” She looked at Raina and Diane with skepticism. “Not likely.”

  “You have to do something to prove yourself to us,” Daniel said.

  “Fine.” Rhonda gestured at Raina. “I’ll kick her ass.”

  “I hope you try it, skank,” Raina said.

  Rhonda raised the palm of one hand. “Pull in your claws, sister. I would never hurt a fellow Wolf. I’m loyal to the cause. I was just joking.”

  Raina huffed and T-Bone puffed.

  “I don’t have to prove myself to any of you,” Rhonda said to Daniel. “I’ve done more than all of you combined.”

  “Like what?” Daniel said.

  Rhonda raised her right hand. “They tortured me for days. One of them chopped off my arm with a sword, and I regenerated it. Have any of you ever done that?” She faced T-Bone and Lincoln. “One of their bitches tried to fuck with me, so I killed her. I tore off her head and threw it at a camera so they’d see it up close.” She turned to Diane and Raina. “Have any of you ever killed a human? I don’t think so.” Both females looked away, and she turned to Daniel. “I’ve tasted human blood, and it went down nice and smooth.”

  “She’s crazy,” Raina said.

  Daniel’s gaze never wavered from Rhonda. “You’re right. You have nothing to prove. If you want to join us, you’re in.”

  T-Bone waved his joint before Rhonda’s face. “Try some. It’s harsh.”

  Rhonda shook her head. “That’s not my speed.”

  “How about some of this?” Lincoln took a bottle of Jim Beam from his back pocket and unscrewed the cap.

  “Sure, why not?”

  Lincoln handed the pint to Rhonda, who raised the bottle to her lips and tipped her head back, allowing the bourbon to slosh into her mouth. Lowering her head and the bottle, she swallowed the alcohol, which burned and sweetened her throat at the same time, and heat spread through her chest. “Thanks.” She returned the bottle to Lincoln.

  Diane stood before her. “Welcome to the gang.”

  Raina took her place in the welcoming line and raised one hand. “I guess we got off to a bad start. No hard feelings.”

  Rhonda clasped Raina’s hand. “Yeah, no problem.”

  “Let’s get fucked up,” T-Bone said.

  Thirteen

  Karol ran into Mace, Jim, and Hollander as they exited the administrative building of Sing Sing.

  “We may have a second crime scene,” Mace said over the dull roar of a helicopter overhead. “I’ll ride with you.”

  “Copy that,” Karol said.

  The four law enforcement officers crossed the bright prison yard together.

  “Jim Mint, Karol Williams,” Mace said.

  “Of course.” Jim shook Karol’s hand. “I saw you 0020at the funeral today.”

  But you didn’t bother to introduce yourself then, Karol said. “It’s good to meet you, sir.” “And this is Deputy Regional Director Hollander,” Mace said.

  Karol smelled ambition and power all over Hollander. “It’s a pleasure to me
et you,” she said.

  Hollander shook her hand. “Nice work in Newark.”

  “Thank you.”

  They reached the parking lot.

  “I’ll go with you,” Hollander said to Jim.

  Karol climbed into the front seat of her SUV and admitted Mace into the passenger side. She took her GPS from the dashboard, and Mace gave her the address of the crime scene, which she programmed.

  “Those two seem cozy,” she said, pulling out.

  “It’s just as well. If they didn’t ride together, we’d probably be paired off with them instead. That’s a little too much micromanagement for my taste.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “Gomez turned into a Wolf and killed three corrections officers while escaping. Now we have more bodies at this second location.”

  Karol’s hair prickled. “Does anyone here know he became a Wolf?”

  “They have it all on high-def.”

  Karol tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Oh, my God.”

  “Hollander confiscated the footage, and his lackey is reading the riot act to the witnesses. But the FBI has what it wants: uncontestable proof. Gomez just did more damage to your kind than Janus Farel and the Brotherhood combined.”

  They stopped at the gate, presented their credentials, and signed out. The gate rumbled open, and Karol drove out of the prison. Jim and Hollander followed in Jim’s vehicle. The headlights of Karol’s SUV illuminated trees ahead. The helicopter crossed the field beside them, flying low to the ground.

  “I need to get in touch with Gabriel,” Karol said.

  “No, you don’t. No calls to him ever. If the FBI takes over this investigation, they may start monitoring our calls. Who knows? They might be doing so already. Gabriel will hear the news soon enough—what news they make public anyway. He’ll figure out the rest. Right now we’re under a microscope. For your own safety, you’ve got to be a cop before anything else.”

  Karol chose not to argue. “What do you think the conversation’s like in the other car?”

  “They’re debating containment and what steps need to be taken if Gomez isn’t caught by sunrise.”

  “Here come the National Guards again.”

  “Some of them never left.”

  The feminine voice of the GPS issued directions, and Karol followed the river upstate.

  “This is a nightmare,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Do you?”

  “I’m worried about my wife.”

  “I’m worried about my entire species. I thought things would calm down after Newark.”

  “Let’s hope we catch him fast.”

  Karol stared at the road ahead. “Sleepers are the worst. Because they’ve had no instruction, they have no sense of our society or our rules. By the time they figure things out on their own, they’re usually wild animals.”

  “I caught Gomez before. He was crazy, not in Janus Farel’s league. The Full Moon Killer was no Manhattan Werewolf, but that’s because he didn’t know what he had inside him. Now . . .”

  “He might be worse than Farel?”

  “That’s my fear. Janus played games with us because he was cunning. The coupling of Gomez’s insanity with Wolf abilities frightens me.”

  “I was a rookie when you caught Gomez, and I was still a PO when Farel did his thing.” She wanted to mention that Willy had been her rabbi but held back. “How’s Cheryl taking the news?”

  “She’s fine for now. I have a patrol car stationed outside the house. How’s Rhonda doing?”

  “I’m worried about her. She’s angry and bitter and keeps having nightmares.”

  “I don’t blame her.”

  “Neither do I, but she won’t let me help her.” Karol decided not to tell Mace about Rhonda’s new hatred of mankind.

  Flashing strobes appeared in the distance, and the GPS announced their arrival. Mace squinted at the emergency vehicles ahead: two white police cruisers and a black SUV. Ahead of the emergency vehicles, a civilian smoked a cigarette while leaning against his truck. A police officer in standard blues waved them to a stop and approached the vehicle.

  Karol lowered her window and showed her shield. “I’m Detective Williams, NYPD, and this is Captain Mace.”

  The officer shone his flashlight inside the SUV. “Do you have ID, sir?”

  “Get that light out of my face.” Small-town cops.

  The officer lowered his flash beam.

  Mace produced his shield and rotated it so it reflected light in the officer’s eyes.

  “All right, proceed.” The officer stepped back.

  Karol raised her window. “A little touchy, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not ready to go back on a sleepless schedule. There ought to be a law.”

  Karol pulled up behind the other vehicles and parked. Flares had been positioned on the ground around a corpse. Mace and Karol got out, and Jim’s SUV stopped behind them so the officer could check their credentials.

  Mace stared at the mangled corpse in the middle of the road. Body parts lay strewn about both lanes, connected by strokes of dark blood that glistened in the streetlight. The carnage reminded Mace of Janus Farel’s murder spree.

  A squat PO with a sloped forehead walked over to them. “I take it you’re the experts from the city?”

  “That’s right,” Mace said.

  “I’m Sergeant Mendelo.” He pointed at the corpse. “The victim appears to be a teenage girl. Tiffany O’Hearn, we think.”

  “Why do you think so?” Karol said.

  Mendelo gestured at a house across the street and two hundred yards up the road. “The O’Hearns lived there. We’ve got an adult male vic downstairs and an adult female vic upstairs, both in the same condition. This one climbed out an upstairs window, dropped off the roof, and ran around the house to the road. There were three members in the family, and we’ve got three bodies.”

  Jim parked his SUV, and he and Hollander joined them.

  “That guy in the truck up ahead passed her in the road and called it in,” Mendelo said.

  Mace walked along the street in the direction of the house. “He didn’t kill her here.” He followed a long, wide trail of blood to where it stopped outside the circle of illumination provided by the streetlight.

  “Did you say he?” Mendelo said. “Because this wasn’t a he; it was an it.”

  “He killed her here and dragged her body into the light.”

  “Why?” Mendelo sounded confused.

  “He wanted her body to be seen.” Mace looked at the house across the street. Yellow light spilled through the glass pane of the storm door. “Was that front door open like that when you found it?”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “He wanted her to be seen, and he wanted us to know he was inside,” Karol said.

  “This was a bear or something,” Mendelo said. “There’s no way it was that escaped convict you’re looking for. This was a wild animal, not a serial killer.”

  “How many times have you investigated killings by wild animals inside people’s homes?” Mace said.

  “None,” Mendelo said.

  Hollander took out his smartphone. “Get that chopper over here to Croton-on-Hudson. Bring the dogs too.”

  “That won’t do any good,” Mace said.

  “Why not?” Hollander said.

  “Because Gomez has already doubled back by now. He wants us to believe he’s heading upstate, but he’s only ever had one destination, and that’s the city.”

  “We need to catch him before he gets there, then.”

  “How do you propose doing that?”

  “We’ll set up checkpoints.”

  “Where? All he has to do is make it to one of the outer boroughs, and then he can skip right into Manhattan.”

  “So we shouldn’t try?”

  Mace sighed. “No, try. But we need to plan for what happens when he slips through the net.”

  “How the hell is a bear going to s
neak into Manhattan?” Mendelo said.

  Hollander stared at Mendelo, then his name tag. “Special Agent Walter Grant will be here shortly. Neither you nor any of your men may leave until he’s briefed you, and no other personnel may enter this crime scene. I’m exercising jurisdictional control.” He turned to Mace. “I think your forensics team already has its hands full at Sing Sing, so I’m turning this over to my people.”

  Mace felt his grip on the situation loosening, and he wondered if he should care. He looked at the silver Hyundai in the driveway. “Let’s go inside.”

  At the door, Mace, Karol, and Hollander put on shoe covers and latex gloves. Jim gave Mace a helpless look, and Karol handed him covers and gloves from her pocket.

  “I don’t have shoe covers, either,” Mendelo said.

  “You’ve already been inside, right?” Mace said.

  “Me and my men.”

  “You’ve probably already contaminated evidence,” Jim said.

  Mendelo’s eyes showed fear. “This isn’t a homicide. It’s an animal attack.”

  “Join your men at the perimeter,” Hollander said. “Get additional support here to keep spectators and media away. Close the entire road down for half a mile in each direction. If there are any leaks, it’s on you.”

  Mace entered the foyer and surveyed the carnage on the floor and the stairs.

  “There’s no way these Keystone Kops didn’t fumble the ball going upstairs,” Karol said.

  Mace climbed the stairs, moving from side to side to avoid the blood and tissue. Upstairs, he faced a bedroom with a missing door. Moving through the doorway, he stepped around the shattered pieces of a wooden door and gazed at the bloody remains of an adult whose chest had been torn open and arms had been pulled off. Blood dripped from the ceiling, and cold air entered through an open window overlooking a flat roof.

  “Jesus,” Jim said.

  Mace looked at the open window, then the light switch.

  Karol studied the mess, her nostrils flaring. “So Croton PD thinks a bear got inside, killed the husband, came up here and killed the wife, and then what? Followed the daughter out that window, climbed off the roof, and chased her into the road?”