Wolfkind

by Stephen Melling

  Since he was a child his mirror image had intrigued him. He would spend long minutes staring into the looking-glass. He had never formed a real understanding of identity, and all those peculiar, speculative forays into his image were an exploration of who he might be. Barlow called him a beast. But something deep inside Joshua stood in denial. He was composed of more than basic animal instinct. And wasn’t that what separated man from beasts – the ability to reason, the capacity for love and compassion?

  Joshua smashed the mirror with the butt of his weapon.

  A full minute passed and Genna dared to pull the linen from her mouth so she could breathe properly. She tried to look over her shoulder. Doing so hurt her neck and her head pounded. Straining, she peered out through the louver slats.

  Two large crimson eyes stared right back in at her. At first she could not make out what she was seeing. And then the harsh breathing resumed. The creature had held its breath, fooling her into believing it had gone.

  A broad fist crashed through the slats and claws dug into her shoulders, piercing her flesh to the bone. She winced and sucked in air, the pain in her lungs forbidding her to scream. As though she were no heavier than a child, she was dragged through the broken slats. The linen sheets fell away. Her head swam with vertigo as she was hoisted into the air to within a few inches of the ceiling. A large rank mouth, dripping with gore and saliva, opened before her face. She gagged. In the dim light she caught glimpses of her assailant. Long arms and broad shoulders, muscles bunching and flexing, writhing under bristling fur. The horror she had escaped at Joshua’s motel had come to reclaim her.

  Part of her mind recalled the gangsters’ horrifying screams, the chilling pleas for mercy. She had shared, had silently screamed in sympathy, with every murdered guard. Looking down into that rancid throat, she finally knew their terror. She did not for one moment consider her father’s fate – something told her he would have escaped the horror.

  And now that death had found her, she could summon no last minute plea for salvation. She lacked the strength to express her fear. Perhaps to die now in the arms of a monster was fair.

  But the fatal bite never came.

  She forced open her eyes and beheld her captor. A blast of foul breath hit her in the face. “Duraaaaant.”

  Joshua found a route to the next floor via a spiral staircase at the termination of the west wing. Leading with the Beretta, he crept along corridors, searching each of the rooms in turn.

  Gun-smoke drifted at head height throughout the complex, but the movement of air kept it eddying toward the exit. Wherever a corpse lay, arterial spray decorated the walls. Corpses were all he found. No renegades. No gangsters. No Genna. Stromboli Mansion resembled what he imagined would be the innermost circle of hell. A Charnel house.

  Perhaps Genna wasn’t here after all. Maybe the gangsters were more aware of the enemy than he thought, and as an extra precaution taken her elsewhere. He prayed that they had.

  As he neared the landing, moving silently and quickly, he heard a man’s high-pitched scream for help.

  Ahead of him, he saw the first of the renegades.

  With its back to Joshua, the beast hurled the screaming man over the balcony to the hard floor below. This beast, fully transformed, bore no human characteristics. Its arms and upper torso appeared to have been dipped in vermilion. Intense heat generated by the transformation baked the spilled blood, accelerating decomposition, releasing a noxious stench.

  So far the renegade had not sensed his approach. Joshua raised the Beretta, slipped his finger inside the trigger guard, began to apply pressure, then realized this would be his first ever kill. A small voice in his head spoke up, Genna’s voice, telling him killing was wrong. His aim, together with his resolve, wavered.

  He stepped out onto the landing and drew a bead. Only now did the renegade become aware of him. It turned slowly. Its wolf-like features churned and melted and returned to human form.

  This was no renegade.

  “What do you know,” Nathan said. “It’s the still, small voice.”

  Joshua’s aim faltered.

  “Looking for absolution?”

  “Maybe I am.” Joshua admitted.

  “You won’t find it staring down the barrel of a gun.” Nathan moved a few steps to his right and the safety of the East wing.

  Joshua cocked the Beretta.

  Nathan gave a sardonic smile. “Barlow should have called us Cain and Abel.”

  “This…” Joshua indicated the carnage, “it has to end.”

  “Sure it does.” Nathan said, and stole another step to his right.

  Joshua steadied the pistol. “Nathaniel,” his voice cracked with anguish and indecision. But he did not know what to say to him. Perhaps there was nothing left to say. Nathan hid behind the excuse that they were victims of another’s mistake. But be that as it may, they had moved amongst the population, and people were dying.

  “It’s your call, brother.” Nathan said.

  In the corridor behind Nathan a girl screamed.

  Joshua recognized Genna’s voice.

  The scream was drowned out by an inhuman cry of perverse pleasure. “Durant!” the voice roared. “I got Durant.” Genna didn’t scream this time – she wailed. Cries not of terror, but of pain.

  Joshua looked from Nathan to the corridor behind him. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Genna’s screams ate into him, ground into his bone marrow, and he removed his finger from the trigger. Anger welled up in him. His eyes glowed red and his stature altered. But he quickly reversed the process, forcing back the beast within. He did not want Genna to see him in any form other than human.

  “Why resist what you are?” Nathan said.

  One of the renegades emerged from the east corridor behind Nathan. Still partly transformed, it pushed Genna ahead, keeping one hand at her throat, the talons, harder than tempered steel, pressed into her carotid artery. A single muscle spasm would kill her.

  “Stay behind me,” Nathan said to his renegade, and to Joshua, with teeth clenched. “Lose the weapon.”

  Genna set eyes on Joshua; for a moment the expression of pain left her face. She tried to say his name, though barely a whisper left her lips. Joshua realized she must have thought he had burned alive in the BMW. Finally he looked back at his brother.

  Joshua’s only edge was the Beretta. He knew that with his great speed and accuracy, he could shoot them both, but not before the renegade could open Genna’s carotid artery. If he killed them both now, he sacrificed Genna.

  “Well, this is interesting,” Nathan mocked. “If Barlow could see you now. This bitch must mean something to you.”

  Genna Delucio was barely recognizable. Both cheeks were bloodied and bruised; the left side of her jaw was badly swollen; one eye had squeezed shut and rivulets of blood stretched from the corners of her mouth to the tip of her chin. Her clothes were damp and dirty; her shoulders dark with the blood from several puncture wounds.

  She swallowed hard and said: “Shoot them…”

  “Drop the gun.” Nathan said.

  “Josh-.” Genna coughed blood.

  Joshua lowered the weapon but he did not drop it.

  Nathan said. “On the count of three, he snips her artery. “One…two…”

  Blayne pulled Genna up from the floor and pressed his mouth to her throat.

  “Three.”

  Joshua raised his free hand. “Wait!”

  Eyes never leaving the claw hovering over Genna’s carotid artery, Joshua let the Beretta slip from his hand.

  Genna’s gaze followed the chrome handgun; it tumbled, bounced once on its muzzle, finally coming to rest facing her feet.

  “Now you let her go.” Joshua said.

  “Show her,” Nathan said. “Show her what you are.”

  Joshua looked appalled. He glanced at Genna. She was very pale. “I won’t do it.”

  “Then she dies,” he said simply.

  “No,” Joshua looked onc
e more at Genna, then tore his gaze away. Fine hair began to sprout on his face. Canine teeth pushed at his lips. His eyes swirled with redness and his mandible elongated to form a snout.

  Genna tried to avert her gaze. Blayne grabbed her hair and pulled her head back. “Keep watching.”

  Joshua halted the transformation. He reversed the changes. They were never going to release Genna. They would kill her regardless of what he did.

  Nathan cocked his head. “You disappoint me, Joshua.”

  Blayne straightened and promptly spun Genna by the shoulders so she faced him. She raised her hands and recoiled from the wolf’s morphing snout, which opened impossibly wide and descended upon her. The claw held an inch from her carotid artery finally retracted.

  Only then did Joshua move.

  He swooped quicker than gravity alone allowed. Scooped up the Beretta, rolled once, and brought up the weapon one handed in front of him, his other hand flung out wide. In lightning succession he squeezed off two shots. The first at Blayne, the second at Nathan. In a blur of movement Nathan ducked down the east wing. The bullet meant for him tore a chunk of plaster from the wall.

  But the first shot found Blayne’s left shoulder, the hollow point fragmenting on impact, opening up a fist-sized wound. Not particularly hurt, Blayne cast a mildly irritated look at Joshua, before moving to bite Genna’s throat.

  The Beretta sang again. Three poisoned rounds tore open Blayne’s chest. Blood splashed into Genna’s upturned face and she gagged, struggling to free herself. The claws digging into her arms loosened and she slipped to the floor. She grunted and scampered backwards, her feet sliding on the carpet. Joshua hurried to her side and dragged her away.

  A confused look insinuated itself on Blayne Cortland’s face; he frowned at his chest wounds, brought a hand to them. Then abruptly his limbs stiffened, his teeth came together, slicing through his lips. He stood upright, a tree about to fall. His face bulged and swelled. From semi human he metamorphosed into full beast, aggressively revealing to Genna what Wolfkind – and therefore Joshua – really were. His height increased to eight feet, his shoulders bunched and his arms elongated. The head became that of an over-developed Timber wolf.

  And then the process began to arrest, decay, go into spontaneous meltdown as the cyanide acted simultaneously on every cell and fiber. The creature’s frenetic metabolism became the enemy. As the blood raced importantly around the body to facilitate the massive changes, so the poison hitched a ride to every biological port of call, starving the body of oxygen. The organic speedway became total genetic chaos. The metabolic cycle became grid-locked, seized, and Blayne collapsed.

  The entire process lasted only seven or eight seconds.

  Genna tore her eyes away. Trembling uncontrollably, she used Joshua to pull herself to her feet. She looked deathly pale; the blood on her face stood out bright as clown’s make-up. She hugged him fiercely, pressing her face into his chest. Then she pulled him toward the stairs. “We gotta get out.”

  But Joshua did not move. He stared at Blayne Cortland’s body.

  “Please, Joshua,” Genna pulled him toward the stairs. “I need to get out of here. You promised me…you prom...” She stumbled on a discarded weapon and he steadied her. Her face looked pale as a fish’s belly. Shivering wracked her body.

  His expression was solemn. “After all you’ve seen…”

  She touched his face with a weak, trembling hand. “Killing is an act of freewill, Joshua.” Trickles of fresh blood on her lips against that pale skin looked artificial. But her injuries were real. She had lost a lot of blood. This decided him.

  He put away the Beretta. “Let’s go.” When she stumbled a second time, he picked her up, cradled her in his arms. He stepped over the renegade’s corpse and headed for the top of the stairs, moving with extreme caution. Joshua was largely bullet proof. Genna was not.

  He descended, stepping carefully over the many corpses in his path, picking his way down. Genna winced whenever he swapped his weight from one foot to the other. He held still for a moment. This morning when he had left her she was a healthy, sturdy young woman – now she was as fragile as a newborn kitten. Her arms crept around his neck, her head rested against his chest. He felt the rapid patter of her frail heart, struggling to keep her alive. A sinister hush had fallen on the house. Only the sound of the wind and the distant sirens broke the quiet.

  About to resume his descent down the stairs, Joshua paused and looked over his shoulder, listening. He heard light, deliberate footsteps over the debris.

  Someone was approaching from the west corridor.

  Through the spindles below the stair rail he saw the tip of gun barrel poke out from beyond the wall, the movement cautious, tentative. After a short pause Divo Serefini appeared behind the weapon; eyes wide and wary; he moved in a crouched, tip-toe posture toward the stairs.

  Seeing Joshua, he halted in mid step, like a schoolboy caught sneaking out before the final bell. He stood rooted to the spot, his eyes moving from Joshua, who was clearly unarmed, to the weapon in his own hands.

  In those few seconds Joshua prayed the gangster would turn and flee, but he did not. Serefini stepped to up to the rail, jammed the butt of the MP5 into his shoulder, widened his stance and opened fire.

  Recoil sent the first couple of rounds high and wide. They zipped by Joshua’s ears and punched dusty holes in the plaster near his head. Had the shots been on target they would have hit Genna, for he was holding her against his chest, inadvertently using her as a shield.

  Before the next rounds left the rifle, Joshua released Genna’s legs and she slipped into a standing position. In the same movement he grabbed her more roughly than he would have liked, spun and pushed her against the wall, shielding her with his body.

  At this range, Serefini could not easily miss, and almost every round found its target. Bullets slammed into Joshua’s back, his shoulders, his legs, pitching him forward against Genna. Their eyes met and locked. In that one gaze, thoughts and feelings passed between them that words alone could not have conveyed. Genna communicated all of her love, all of her hate, all of her fear. And her guilt.

  Joshua gritted his teeth as the bullets struck. The pain transferred instantaneously to Genna, as though they shared the same body, for she stiffened and cried out with every shot that found its mark. He saw his reflection in her eyes, and knew then he would die before he let her go.

  Genna grabbed his shirt and clung onto it. “Don’t…” she said.

  Enough bullets would kill. He had told her that, and he was aware of it now. He saw by the look in Genna’s eyes she was aware of it, too.

  As he absorbed more and more shots he weakened, one hand pressed against the wall for support. His legs buckled, but he clung on doggedly. Stray rounds smashed the plaster and fragments rained down, landing in Genna’s hair and on her shoulders.

  Joshua’s eyes swirled with scarlet; his will to protect Genna turned to anger at Serefini. Becoming a separate entity from his will, the beast in him stirred. The skin of his face changed, darkened. When he opened his mouth, the beginnings of several canine teeth were visible. He turned his head away so Genna didn’t have to look at him. He glared at the gangster and released a fierce growl in his direction. The noise, loud and deep, rivaled that of the gangster’s weapon.

  Joshua stumbled to one knee but quickly got up. Genna held onto him tightly, hugged him briefly but fiercely, and then pushed him away, exposing herself to the gunfire.

  Serefini had changed weapons and laughed crazily, strafing on the balcony, firing the second Heckler and Koch MP5. Three bullets, one after the other, hit the plaster, the fourth caught Genna in her right shoulder, pitching her against the wall. Joshua threw himself across to shield her. A volley of rounds pummeled his body, but he could not intercept the bullet that caught Genna squarely in the chest. She collapsed onto the stairs by his feet.

  Serefini turned and fled along the corridor, cackling crazily, letting off random bursts of
gunfire into the ceiling.

  Joshua carried Genna’s lifeless body to the top of the stairs. He gently laid her on the carpet. Raised himself to full height. At first he felt emptiness, which slowly turned into a crushing sense of loss. As though someone had reached inside him and tore out all that was good, leaving behind a shell containing only anger and hate. Stripped of the one thing he cared about, Joshua raised his head, the beast within him unleashed. He felt it waken. Like an approaching express train. He sucked in large volumes of oxygen, and on the third exhale he roared. Windows shook in their frames. One of them shattered, then another.

  His Wolfkind consciousness bloomed. Shedding clothes, his body changing, he turned toward the sound of gunfire. In a moment he was up on his toes and moving silently. The ceiling, peppered with rounds from Serefini’s gun, appeared lower than it did previously. Wolfkind instinct raged in him, obliterating all that had gone before him, and through his outrage he allowed himself to succumb to the dark power.

  He was not hunting a renegade but a human being; one that murdered members of his fellow species, but nonetheless a human being. Joshua recited the cardinal rule in his mind:

  Thou shall not harm the humans.

  He knew now he would break it.

  With these thoughts spinning crazily through his mind he tore down the passage, leaping over the mauled figures of the Durant dead. At the end of the corridor he saw two feet disappear into a ceiling hatch. A trapdoor slammed down over the dark square. A lock was engaged. Then footsteps passed hollowly over Joshua’s head.

  At that moment Joshua planted his left foot and transferred his forward momentum into upward thrust. He rose like a basketball player performing a slam-dunk; his arms smashed into and through the ceiling, bringing down wads of plaster and slats and splintered floorboards. The gangster fell through the hole and into Joshua’s grasp. Somehow Serefini managed to maintain his grip on the HK and incredibly, opened fire as he fell. Several shots caught Joshua, but they went unfelt. He deflected the weapon and at the same time snapped at the wrist, severing the arm below the elbow.