Lycanthropic (Book 2): Wolf Moon (The Rise of the Werewolves)

by Morris, Steve

  ‘Nothing’s going to happen to you,’ she said. It was far more likely that something might happen to Samantha and Lily but she didn’t say that aloud. She dreaded to think what Dean might do if his wife or daughter came to any harm.

  ‘We can’t take anything for granted,’ said Dean. ‘Come on. It won’t take long to teach you the basics. Let’s start with the pistol.’ He slid the gun out of its holster and held it out to her.

  Reluctantly Liz took it. ‘Is it loaded?’ she asked nervously.

  ‘Sure,’ said Dean. ‘It has a fully-loaded magazine. But don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe to hold.’

  ‘Where’s the safety switch?’

  Dean chuckled. ‘There’s no safety switch in a Glock. But you can’t fire it by accident. Even if you pull the trigger now it won’t go off.’

  ‘Okay. So how do I fire it?’

  ‘A Glock will only fire if there’s a bullet in the chamber and the gun is cocked. Look at the position of the trigger. If it’s right back, like it is now, the weapon is safe. But if the trigger is in a forward position, the gun is cocked and ready to fire. But only if there’s a round in the chamber.’

  ‘So what do I need to do to make it ready?’

  He showed her a small button on the side of the weapon. ‘Press this slide release with your finger and pull the slide back.’ He showed her how to do it. ‘You can check whether there’s a round in the chamber. See?’

  He pulled the slide back and the weapon made a satisfying ratcheting sound. She could see that the chamber was empty. He slid it back with a loud click.

  ‘But be careful,’ he warned. ‘The slide action automatically pulls a round from the magazine, loads it into the chamber and cocks the gun. See how the trigger has moved forward ready to fire?’

  Liz looked. ‘So the gun will fire now?’ She suddenly felt a strange mixture of fear and power.

  ‘Yeah. If there’s a bullet in the chamber, the gun is cocked and you pull the trigger, it will fire. So be careful where you point it, and never put any part of your hand in front of the barrel.’

  ‘What if I accidentally drop it?’

  ‘If you drop a Glock, it won’t fire. Only if you pull the trigger.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Liz. ‘Let’s try it then.’

  ‘Hold the gun with two hands,’ instructed Dean. ‘That’s right. Look through the sights to aim at one of the bottles, and use your right hand to pull the trigger.’

  Liz took careful aim, lining up the middle bottle. She squeezed the trigger carefully.

  The noise of the gun firing was louder than she’d expected, and she felt the power of its recoil in her arms.

  None of the bottles had moved.

  ‘Everyone misses the first time,’ said Dean. ‘Try again. There’s no hurry.’

  ‘How do I reload it?’

  ‘The Glock is self-loading. When you release the trigger it loads another round and cocks the gun, ready to shoot. There are seventeen rounds in a magazine.’

  The second shot missed too. ‘I think I might need all seventeen rounds,’ said Liz, trying to conceal her disappointment.

  ‘Take your time.’

  The third shot missed too, and Liz felt a surge of frustration. She hadn’t wanted to shoot the stupid gun at all. But now she had, she was desperate to do it right.

  ‘Keep trying,’ said Dean. ‘We’re here to practise.’

  She held the weapon firmly in both hands and aimed carefully. The bottle was dead centre in her sights. She pulled the trigger a fourth time.

  The middle bottle shattered.

  ‘I got it!’ she cried.

  ‘Feels good?’ asked Dean.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Liz. She was surprised how good it felt. She felt elated; thrilled. Her earlier worries had all but evaporated.

  She tried again and missed. But by the time the magazine was spent, all three bottles were gone and the steel drum was peppered with holes.

  ‘Well done,’ said Dean, obviously pleased with the result. ‘I’ll show you how to swap the magazine for a fresh one, and then we can try out the assault rifle.’

  ‘Okay.’ She handed the pistol back and watched as he reloaded the weapon.

  He showed her the assault rifle next. ‘The G36C is an ultra-short assault rifle that fires 5.56mm rounds,’ he explained. ‘They have more range and stopping power than the 9mm bullets in the Glock. They also stand a better chance of penetrating into a vehicle.’

  He let her fire some rounds. The feeling of power was even greater than when shooting with the pistol. The power of life and death. By the time she had finished, she was glad to hand the weapon back to him. The feeling of awe had been tempered again with one of dread. After all, who was she to wield such power?

  ‘Just remember,’ said Dean. ‘You’d only use one of these weapons if you feared for your life, or the life of another. Your goal is to save lives, not to kill.’

  She nodded. He had given her a gift, she realized. He had gone out on a limb to teach her something important. She couldn’t lie to him any longer. ‘Do you want to know what really happened on the night of the riot?’ she asked.

  ‘Was it like Vijay said? You went berserk?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t really understand how it happened. When the full moon came out from behind the clouds, I changed. Into what, I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly like one of the Beasts. But I wasn’t fully human either.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘I don’t know. I felt strong, and time seemed to slow down. I didn’t really think about what I was doing, I just acted on instinct. I attacked two of those thugs and left them for dead. And then I changed back to normal. It was all over in seconds. But now I’m scared it might happen again. I’m terrified I might hurt someone I know.’

  Dean didn’t seem surprised or concerned about anything she’d just told him. ‘I guessed as much,’ he said. ‘Tell you what, I’ll keep a close eye on you next full moon. If you start getting hairy I’ll tell you.’

  ‘Don’t joke about it. It terrified me.’

  ‘Come on, don’t be so glum. You went a bit wild. But you didn’t completely lose control. You didn’t hurt any of the kids, did you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘So I don’t think you’ll hurt me either.’

  She hoped he was right. But hope wasn’t enough. ‘If I do anything weird, promise me you’ll handcuff me.’

  ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘That would be fun. But don’t tell Samantha.’

  Chapter Forty-Two

  West Field Terrace, South London, quarter moon

  Vijay knocked on the door of Rose’s house and waited. The door opened and Rose stood in the doorway, beautiful and radiant, just as he had pictured her in his mind’s eye. ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘I hope you don’t mind me calling.’

  She looked surprised to see him standing there. ‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ she said.

  He wondered if he ought to have sent her a text first, but he had been hoping to surprise her. ‘I just wanted to come and see you,’ he said. ‘I missed you.’

  ‘I thought your mum said you were grounded,’ said Rose.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Vijay. ‘I am. But I sneaked out of the house when no one was looking.’ He waited to see if Rose would be impressed by his bravado.

  ‘Oh,’ she said distractedly. ‘Was that a good idea?’

  The exchange wasn’t going the way Vijay had imagined. ‘Can’t I come in?’ he asked, unable to prevent a hint of irritation from creeping into his voice.

  ‘We were just going out,’ said Rose. ‘Me and mum. We need to try and find medication for my brother. He really struggles to breathe in this cold weather, and if we run out of antibiotics he won’t be able to fight off infections.’

  Vijay nodded. He had seen Rose’s brother, Oscar, a few times, sitting in his wheelchair. Sometimes the boy sat in the downstairs window, looking out, waving at the passers-by. He always seemed to be a happy boy, despite the awful cough he had. Thinkin
g about the difficulties the boy must suffer each day, Vijay suddenly felt ashamed of feeling so sorry for himself. His own problems were trivial compared with Oscar’s, and besides there was no better way to cheer yourself up than by helping others. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he said brightly.

  ‘Would you?’ said Rose. ‘That would be great actually. Then my mum could stay here to look after Oscar and get on with other jobs. I’ll just go and tell her.’

  Vijay waited proudly on the doorstep as Rose disappeared inside. He had been foolish, as usual. An opportunity to impress Rose had been waiting for him all along, and he had almost missed it because of his impatience. He needed to learn some humility, as Sikh wisdom taught. The lessons of his elders had always seemed so simple in the abstract. Now that he really needed some wisdom, it was hard to find the right path.

  Rose appeared again a moment later, wearing a thick winter coat and carrying a shopping bag and a list. ‘We tried all the local pharmacies yesterday, but they were closed or out of stock. They told us to try again today.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Vijay. ‘I don’t mind how far we have to walk. Just as long as I can help.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, giving him a smile. ‘I really appreciate it.’

  They walked to the nearby High Street, but the pharmacy there was closed. The front of the building had been boarded up with plywood sheets. ‘It was worth a try,’ said Rose. ‘We’ll go and check the others.’

  They set off together along the main road, heading west toward Clapham. ‘What kind of medicines does your brother need?’ asked Vijay. The list Rose clutched in her hand seemed surprisingly long.

  ‘Quite a few, actually,’ said Rose. ‘Antibiotics in case he gets a lung infection, mucus-thinning medications to stop his respiratory system getting blocked, tablets to help him cough up mucus so it doesn’t fill up his lungs, and anti-inflammatories to help with pain relief and prevent fever. He also takes enzyme supplements and steroids, and he’s just started a trial of a new drug.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Vijay. He’d had no idea that Oscar needed so many different medicines. ‘How long before you run out?’

  ‘We have a few weeks’ supply of most things. Some more, some less, but I want to stock up as much as possible in case things get worse.’

  ‘Let’s hope that the other pharmacies are all open,’ said Vijay. ‘Do you know what happened to the one on the High Street?’

  ‘It was ram-raided a couple of nights ago. Ben Harvey said there’s been at least one robbery every day since the rioting started. And that’s just in the local area.’

  ‘Ben Harvey?’ queried Vijay. ‘Our biology teacher? The one who saved you from Mr Canning?’

  ‘Yes. He’s working for the Neighbourhood Watch now. They patrol the area at night, looking out for criminals, keeping everyone safe. My dad’s started helping them too, now he can’t go to work anymore. He likes to keep busy. He got really cross when he couldn’t get into work. Actually, he nearly got into a fight with Ben the first time they met.’

  ‘No way,’ said Vijay.

  Rose smiled at his shocked face. ‘Yeah, but it was just a misunderstanding. They’re good friends now.’

  ‘That’s good.’ It seemed that a lot had happened in the couple of days Vijay had been cooped up at home. He began to wish he’d rebelled sooner, then he could have helped Rose and her family a lot more. ‘Are they looking for volunteers?’ he asked. ‘The Neighbourhood Watch, I mean.’ If he volunteered to help out, his mum could hardly prevent him from leaving the house.

  ‘I expect so,’ said Rose. ‘But they need people to go out at night and deal with troublemakers.’ The way she said it seemed to rule Vijay out as a candidate.

  ‘I could do that,’ protested Vijay. ‘I’m not scared.’

  ‘Well, if you say so,’ said Rose. ‘You should talk to Ben in that case.’

  ‘I will,’ said Vijay, although he wondered if the teacher would allow him to help with that kind of work. His mum would probably kick up a fuss too. ‘Do they need volunteers for other kinds of jobs?’ he asked.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Rose. She stopped walking. ‘This is the next pharmacy.’

  They went inside. A long queue of people were waiting at the counter, and some of them were getting quite irate, shouting at the pharmacist before leaving empty-handed. Vijay noticed that many of the shelves were empty, or severely depleted. Eventually it was Rose’s turn to speak to the pharmacist. She showed him her list but he shook his head. ‘We only have a small supply of the anti-inflammatories and steroids in stock,’ he said. ‘We don’t have any of these others. And I don’t know when we’ll be getting any new deliveries from our supplier.’

  ‘Please,’ begged Rose. ‘I’ll take whatever you have.’

  ‘Okay,’ agreed the pharmacist, but I can only let you have a week’s supply of each. We have to ration all prescription drugs until everything gets back to normal.’

  Back outside, Vijay tried to console her. ‘Let’s hope it will get back to normal soon, like he said.’

  Rose shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. ‘Haven’t you been watching the news? It’s not ever going to get back to normal,’ she said. ‘It’s only going to get worse. The trouble isn’t just happening in London. The whole world is falling apart. Australia has closed its borders. Russia and China have imposed martial law. Just look at the curfew and the shooting at Trafalgar Square. That’s just the beginning. It’s going to get much worse than that before long.’

  Vijay was dismayed by the anger in her voice. ‘You can’t know for certain,’ he said.

  ‘I do,’ insisted Rose. ‘I saw it all in a dream.’

  ‘Dreams don’t always come true,’ he said.

  ‘This one already is.’

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Upper Terrace, Richmond upon Thames, West London, quarter moon

  James no longer spent all his time alone in his room. Instead he came out at night to trudge around the house in a pitiable state. To Sarah’s relief he rarely spoke, and she was growing steadily used to his ghostly presence. It helped that he made no demands on her. In fact he seemed to take pains to avoid her. Mostly he just slouched in a chair doing nothing, or spent long silent hours in his room, sleeping or brooding, she didn’t know what.

  He didn’t watch the news on TV. He didn’t read, or listen to music. He never asked for food or drink and she had no idea how he survived with apparently nothing to eat.

  Sometimes she found him late in the evening staring out of the tall windows at the back of the house, seeing nothing or everything in the way the moon cast soft shadows across the terrace. Occasionally she would be disturbed by a muffled scream or cry from his room, but when she tip-toed to his door and knocked, there would be no response. Sometimes when he thought he was alone, she would see him curl his fists in anger, or shake his head furiously. Every day he cried, often for hours at a stretch.

  Sarah knew why.

  She had read enough psychology books to recognize the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder when she saw it.

  It was only to be expected, based on what Melanie had told her. James had killed the man who had imprisoned her. Melanie wouldn’t say any more about the killing, but however James had done it, it wasn’t surprising he was in a state. And Sarah sensed some deeper scar, something that had changed his life beyond all recognition. Something that made him barely able to talk at all. Sarah thought she knew what that was.

  He was beginning to show some small signs of improvement. He had started taking daily showers now, although he had given up shaving and was growing a ragged, sandy beard on his chin and neck. Sarah had given him some of Grandpa’s old clothes to wear. They fitted him no better than the outfit he had arrived in, and he looked comical in an old man’s clothing, but he didn’t seem to mind in the least. He didn’t seem at all interested in his appearance.

  What he really needed was professional counselling to help him deal with his PTSD, but with Sarah being unable t
o venture out, Melanie being unwilling to, and the whole world falling to pieces anyway, that didn’t seem like a realistic option. There was only one way to help James heal, and that was for Sarah to get him to talk to her about his trauma.

  That was easier said than done, however. For the first couple of days, it had been as much as Sarah could handle simply knowing that a stranger was living under her roof. Then they had begun to talk, but you could hardly describe their interactions as conversations. Most of the time Sarah felt that they were each simply talking to themselves, in the presence of the other. Even that had been a big step forward. But the time for a proper conversation was well overdue, and if James wouldn’t initiate one, Sarah would have to. And the best way to overcome her fear was to jump right in.

  ‘I know what you are,’ she said quietly to him when they were alone together one night.

  James was standing by the windows that overlooked the rear garden. His glassy eyes stared out at the dark space beyond. He almost seemed not to have heard her at first. Then, still looking out into the night, he said, ‘I don’t understand. I don’t know what you mean.’ But she could see the tremble in his shoulders.

  Sarah took a step closer. If he kept his eyes away from her, she could do this. ‘You’re one of those creatures. You’re a … a werewolf.’

  James moved away from the window but kept his back turned to her. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said. ‘How could I be?’

  ‘Mel told me. She said you killed that man.’

  The tremble in James’s shoulders became a shudder and he began to sob. ‘She promised. She said she wouldn’t tell anyone.’

  ‘We’re sisters,’ said Sarah. ‘Twins. Twins share everything. We can’t keep secrets from each other, even if we want to. Please don’t be angry with her.’

  James continued to cry. ‘I’m not angry. Just … sad.’ He turned to face her then, keeping his head bowed so she wouldn’t have to look at his face. ‘So are you going to tell the police? Will you hand me over?’

  ‘No,’ said Sarah quickly. ‘Of course not. I won’t tell anyone.’