by Sarah Noffke
Woman Leading Werewolf Protests Claims Her Son Is One of Them
Chapter Thirty-Five
“There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.”
- George Carlin
Malcolm was still asleep when Mika marched into the lab. He wasn’t smiling, but victory made his green eyes lighten, seeming to dance with a long-awaited delight. Finally. Finally he had recovered one of the pack members. For too many months he’d been holding off the investors’ inquiries. Now he’d have something positive to report. Yes, he’d lost Luolamies, but still Olento Research had the documentation. They’d successfully de-evolved a man. That was information that could be sold. Soon he’d sell the bulk of his experiments. That was his plan for securing the funding for the teleporting project.
The person who had helped him acquire the Arcturian had the procedure for teleporting. Charles Knight. It had been over a decade since Mika made contact with his old mentor. However, he’d come to Mika with a business proposition, which soon turned into a series of them. Mika had agreed to buy the alien, which allowed Knight to start a new venture where he manufactured Dream Traveler children and turned them into thieves. Knight was a man Mika could respect. The only true equal he’d ever met. And now, Mika was that much closer to gaining the information on teleporting. Everything was finally turning in his favor.
“Wake him up,” Mika said to Drake when he halted in front of the bars to Malcolm’s cell.
“I have been trying,” the grumpy German said. He banged his clipboard against the metal bars, making a sharp sound. “Hey! Wake up!”
Mika’s eyes closed with annoyance as he shook his head. He held up his hand and pointed it at the body lying on the lumpy cot. From his hand water sprung, shooting through the gap in the bars and landing on the sleeping werewolf. One of the last skills he manufactured and had given himself before the werewolf project was the power to produce and harness water. That’s why it wasn’t a surprise that many of the werewolves could control the elements. They were, in essence, a part of him, as their creator.
Malcolm sputtered out a yell of surprise, pushing up and off the cot. He blinked, staring at Drake and Mika with a confused face. Creases from the cot lined his cheek, which was swollen due to the alcohol.
“Wh-wh-where am I?” Malcolm said, staring around the cell. Then he pressed both his hands to the side of his head. “No! Fucking no!” he said, everything seeming to piece together in his slowly sobering mind.
“Welcome back,” Mika said, no warmth in his voice. “Now, you will start training in one hour. Before that, I want to know what your Dream Travel gift is.”
“Dream Travel? Training? What? No, I want out of here,” Malcolm said, rushing forward and wrapping his dark hands around the bar.
“Of course you do. And you’re no doubt hungry,” Mika said casually, pulling a metal lid off of a plate sitting on the tray just far enough away from the cell bars. A porterhouse steak, almost raw, sat in its juices on a plate. “And you will be fed once you complete your first training. How does that sound?”
“Let me out of here, you fucking lunatic! I’m not doing anything you say!” Malcolm said, spit flying from his mouth.
“You’re going to remain in that cell and extremely hungry if you keep up that attitude,” Mika said. The best compliant device was depriving people of the basics. It was how he planned to brainwash Malcolm into being a devoted werewolf, completing “jobs” for him.
“You can’t do this! When I change into a werewolf I’m going to rip your throat out,” Malcolm said.
Mika released a proud smile. Yes, Malcolm was acting irrational now, but in a couple of days, he’d be the most loyal dog. “Now, go ahead and tell me, what’s your gift? What extra power do you have? Giving me that information is the first step to getting fed,” Mika said, looking down at the thick steak.
“Fuck you! Your shit won’t work on me,” Malcolm said. And then the porterhouse rose in the air, flying across the space and through the bars and into Malcolm’s outstretched hand. He caught it with a sly smile. “Try another tactic, Fucker.” With a wide mouth he sank his teeth into the meat, tearing it off like an animal.
Mika released an annoyed breath before turning to Drake. “Have his cell reinforced with plexiglass. We can’t have our guest telekinetically pulling things into his cage.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
“We have doomed the wolf not for what it is, but for what we deliberately and mistakenly perceive it to be—the mythologized epitome of a savage ruthless killer—which is, in reality, no more than a reflected image of ourself.”
- Farley Mowat
The door to the liquor store buzzed every time a loser patron entered or exited. Most carried brown paper bags away, full of poison that they willingly bought and would consume. Hunter sat in the black SUV, watching the flow of traffic, when a beat-up sedan tore into the parking lot.
“Right on time,” he said, gripping his hands around the steering wheel. Some things never changed. Hunter had been watching his mom for months now and knew that just like when he was a child she dragged herself to the liquor store about the same time most days. Some days she didn’t make it but that was because she was too drunk from the day before. It had been like that ever since his stepfather left, which was a blessing and curse.
He used to wait in the backseat of her piece of shit car while she went into the liquor store for a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes. On hot LA days, she refused to roll down the windows more than a crack to grant him fresh air away from the smoke. She complained that she didn’t want the air conditioning escaping. He complained that he couldn’t breathe. Unable to control his temper, because he was never taught how, he’d kick the back of her seat, but that would only later earn him a beating. His mom was the worst human being. Of all women she was the most horrid. Lazier. Weaker. Meaner.
Hunter’s mom had parked too close to the neighboring car. She’d never known how to drive, especially when drunk, which she was now. The woman usually woke up drunk and made it to the liquor store before her buzz wore off. Then she’d be cuddled up with a glass of whiskey and her “shows” by late afternoon.
She pulled down her shorts as she got out of the car, tugging them out of her crotch. Never the picture of class, his mother made all the trailer park trash that lived around her look like royalty. Usually she stood on the porch, waving at the young boys in the neighborhood when they skated by, winking at them as she tugged on a drag of her menthols. She thought the cigarettes made her taste good. That’s often what she said to them, Hunter remembered. “Come get a taste of my mint,” she’d say to the neighborhood boys.
Hunter growled, leaning forward when his mom disappeared into the liquor store. How he longed to make her suffer. Of all the women who had wronged him, she’d been the worst. His own mom. But now she would be punished for it. He could taste the vengeance in his mouth. It would be the best feast yet. However, he wanted her to really suffer, which meant she couldn’t be drunk. He’d have to catch her tomorrow around this time, when the liquor had mostly worn off. Hunter had planned it all out and was going to enjoy tearing into her flesh in the old neighborhood where everyone could watch. He was certain that the neighbors who often congregated on their porches would enjoy watching his mom suffer. She’d been a curse to everyone in close proximity to her for so long.
A minute later, the scraggly drunk of a woman exited the liquor store, a brown bag in tow.
“Tomorrow, Mom,” Hunter said, as the claws drew into place and his fangs sank down. Because he’d embraced the wolf, become one with it, he could now change at will. Hunter was no longer a man with a wolf inside of him. He was a true werewolf.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“There is no better way to know us / Than as two wolves, come separately to a wood.”
- Ted Hughes
“Hey, hold that, would you?” Connor said just as the doors of the elevator
began to close.
Adelaide tapped the button to close the doors, popping her head into the small space. “Nope,” she said, watching Connor sprint down the hallway, too far off to make the elevator in time.
She pressed her eyes shut, wondering why she had to be such an asshole. Was it in fact in her blood? Her father was the biggest jerk anyone ever knew. Maybe she didn’t have a choice. That’s how it felt most days. But just that morning Lucien had toddled over to her, extending his hands, like he wanted Adelaide to pick him up. She hesitated, thinking that she might, just that once, give him what he wanted. It had been nice when he stopped running from her. And now he was asking for her. Still, it wasn’t something available to Adelaide and so she shook her head and finished her breakfast. Pops had pursed his lips with disappointment, but didn’t say anything because he was good like that. He then bent down and scooped the boy up, not at all straining at the feat that would be tough for most ninety-year-olds. Dream Travelers didn’t age like Middlings though.
The doors to the elevator bounced open on the fifth level and Adelaide stepped out, catching two bodies in her peripheral. She turned just as Zephyr pushed away from Rox, walking in her direction, appearing startled. His hair was messed up on top, pushed to the side. “I was just looking for you,” he said, running his hand over the side of his jaw.
“Well, I can’t be found down Rox’s throat, so I’m thinking you need better looking skills,” Adelaide said and pointed at his shirt. “Why don’t you button up while I fire Rox.”
The other girl stepped forward, whirling her hips a bit as she did. “What are you talking about? I was just fixing Z’s hair,” she said innocently.
“Go back to beauty school, Lip Gloss,” she said. “I believe you’ve been warned that we have a zero tolerance policy about you mixing your hooking business with the Institute. I don’t have time for this bloody shit, you fuckers. Stay off each other before you compromise this case. I swear to fucking God, if you two don’t stay away from each other then I’m going to have you both lobotomized.” Adelaide’s anger flared from a hidden closet inside of her. She wasn’t even sure what had spurred it. Yes, the two fuck-faces in front of her shouldn’t be making out, but there wasn’t really anything she could do about it. Actually, Trey Underwood, the Head Official for the Lucidites, promoted relationships at the Institute, since most of the residents didn’t get out often enough to meet other people. Still, she wasn’t going to allow it. This was her bloody case and she needed everyone focused. Especially right then.
“We’re sorry. Don’t worry. It won’t happen again,” Zephyr said, his voice firm. “My focus is thoroughly on the weres.”
At Adelaide’s back the elevator opened again and Connor stepped out, a narrowed look on his face. “Any particular reason that you couldn’t hold the doors for me?” he said to Adelaide.
“Yeah, a big fucking reason. I don’t like being in elevators with you. Call me nuts, but the last time I did, you tried to eat me,” she said.
He rolled his eyes, with his lips pursed. “Oh, that. Would you get over the past already? You attack a girl as a werewolf one time and she won’t let it go,” he said, hiding a smile.
Adelaide mirrored his gesture, her eyes nearly knocking in to the back of her skull when she rolled them. “Anyway, we have a report on Hunter Smith. He’s going to attack his mum tomorrow morning in a trailer park in Los Angeles,” she said to Zephyr.
“Wow, what a sicko,” Rox said, still bouncing her hip, like being still would kill her.
“Yeah, and he does it in werewolf form,” Adelaide said, grateful that Roya’s report had been as thorough as it was.
“How can he do that? We’re not set to change for a few more days,” Zephyr said.
“It appears he can turn it on and off. Or maybe he can just turn it on,” Adelaide said, a new idea occurring to her suddenly.
“Well, that makes apprehending him more difficult,” Zephyr said, a heaviness etching into his gray eyes.
“Assemble your team, create a plan, and please consider that merely apprehending Hunter isn’t possible,” Adelaide said. “This dog might need to be put down.”
Zephyr jerked his chin in Adelaide’s direction. “Kill him? I don’t know if we need to do that. He’s one of the pack.”
What Zephyr wasn’t saying was he wasn’t sure if he could do that. Adelaide had seen how Zephyr had changed when the pack grew and she’d seen the scars that seemed to form on him when ones had died. Zephyr held a connection to the pack, but even still, sometimes we have to saw off our arm to prevent infection. “Zeppy, he’s gone rabid. Hunter isn’t a part of the pack anymore. He’s rogue and you need to consider that he can’t be helped,” Adelaide said, turning and heading in the direction of Aiden’s lab. She now knew how the reversal conversion needed to happen.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Wolves fail to hide their integrity just like the way men fail to hide their own animality.”
- Munia Khan
Drake slid a report onto Mika’s desk. “Isha has reported where we can find Hunter Smith in the future,” he said.
Mika raised his eyes up from the paperwork he’d been signing. Gently he laid down the ballpoint pen and flicked his gaze to the report, which only included a location. “When? I need to know when will he be here,” he said, pointing to the location.
“That we do not know,” Drake said. Now looking at him, Mika spied a deep crease in his forehead, a tightness to his mouth.
“What happened?” Mika said.
“Isha reported the location where Hunter could be found but before she could give us any further details she had an aneurysm. The girl is dead,” he said.
“Damn it,” Mika said with a hiss. Olento Research had sunk a lot of resources into that subject and she’d proven dependable. He’d finally gotten one of his werewolves back due to her report. “Okay, enlist a new subject and get them started with Project Nakija. I’m going to need more reports of the future after this. There’s still three werewolves out there, after we abduct Hunter.”
“Sir, may I suggest we not take such an aggressive approach with the next Project Nakija subject. I do believe that the aneurysm was caused by the heavy level of drugs,” Drake said.
Mika telekinetically pulled the ballpoint pen into his hand, between his fingers. Thinking, he tapped it on the papers in front of him. Usually he’d cut Drake off for offering unsolicited advice. However, he relied on Drake for his expertise and maybe needed to listen to it this time. Losing another subject would be costly. “Yes, that’s fine, but bring in several subjects. I want to have as many visions of the future as we can going forward. Time is running out to catch these werewolves,” he said and then rose from his desk, marching around it and heading for the door. “How is your work with Project Vampyyri coming along?”
“It’s slow. The samples I’ve taken from the alien haven’t been receptive to my testing,” Drake said.
“Yes, I figured this would be one of the more difficult projects. Still, if we can accomplish this then we will have reached the biggest goal Olento Research has ever experienced,” Mika said, rounding into the lab room lined with cells. Haiku came to attention at once, having spied Mika approaching from the corner of his vision.
He saluted and then stepped to the side, where Malcolm could be seen holding plank in his cell.
“How is his training?” Mika asked, watching as Malcolm shook slightly from the exercise of holding himself up on his forearms.
“It’s been remarkably successful,” Haiku said, holding out a presenting arm at the man sweating in the middle of the cell. “As you can see, he’s not at risk of escaping and has been extremely compliant to all my demands.”
Mika pulled up the corner of one side of his mouth. “Yes, I see that. Conditioning and behavior modification are powerful tools.”
“You’re right and this approach was brilliant,” Haiku said, an astonished look on his face. Yes,
often employees were amazed at how incredibly intelligent Mika was.
“I’m sending you and Malcolm on a mission. You’ll need to take him there and stake it out. Hunter Smith will be there at some point in the future, but we don’t know when,” Mika said, handing over the piece of paper.
Haiku looked it over with a nod. “I’ll have my men stationed around the trailer park. We will do everything we can to return with Hunter.”
“I do realize that Hunter is one of the more dangerous werewolves, but under no circumstances should he be harmed. Ensure that Malcolm is aware of this. He needs to use force, but nothing deadly,” Mika said.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“All stories are about wolves. All worth repeating, that is. Anything else is sentimental drivel.”
- Margaret Atwood
Bonnie loved to play with her new camera. It wasn’t really new. The camera was just a function on the old phone her mother had given her when she got a new one. The phone didn’t call or message, but it took photos and that was pretty neat still. The eleven-year-old scrolled through the photos as the breeze blew through her hair on the back patio of her trailer. She was supposed to be at school, but she’d missed the bus and her mom’s car hadn’t run in a while. Maybe she should have gotten it fixed instead of upgrading her phone. Didn’t really matter to Bonnie. She got to stay home and pretend to be a photographer for the day.
Seeing the goings-on of the neighborhood when she was usually at school was a real treat. Not much happened. People came. People went. And there was no one around to control the radio station. She reached over and turned up the little boom box. It was older than her, according to her mother, but it got good enough reception. Her new favorite song came to a close and the news followed it. News was so boring, the girl often thought. However, lately there was talk of werewolves. They couldn’t really be real, her mother had told her. Still, there was that lady on the television who was always red-faced and talking about how the devil had made these monsters and they were going to attack society. And then there had been those murders all over Los Angeles. The police called the killer the rabid wolf.