by Stephen Cole
Kate had never seen any ’wolf get anything like this kick from blood in a tube. It was alien to the whole lupine culture. Their fix was the hunt, the felling of the prey, the opening of veins with scissoring jaws, the tearing of flesh – not just swigging blood from a glass like soda. She jumped as Swagger threw his own empty tube down at Kes’s feet.
‘Now, you take the rest over to Park East right now,’ he commanded. ‘And no more dumb stunts, OK?’ Then he turned and grabbed hold of Kate’s hand so hard it hurt. ‘Come on, baby. No more games.’ His grey eyes were glassy, and he was squinting like he wasn’t quite able to focus. ‘It’s way past time I saw a little more of you.’
She tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong, he only sniggered.
‘What’s the matter, sugar? Don’t you want us to have some fun?’
Kate wanted to puke in his face. ‘Sure I do,’ she whispered, trying to keep herself from shaking, ‘I just wanna go somewhere more private, y’know?’
Swagger nodded, a slow smile of understanding spreading over his ugly face. ‘Chicks,’ he said, giving his generals a long-suffering look. ‘First time’s always gotta be something special. OK, c’mon.’
He dragged her up three flights of crumbling stairs. ‘Where are we going?’ she demanded.
‘My office,’ he said, his words slurring a little now. ‘You’re gonna take some dictation, baby.’
Kate found herself hauled into a fetid, airless dump of a room overlooking the arena. The walls were plastered with tacky posters of bikes and airbrushed bikini-bimbos, and the one table was stacked high with hi-fi separates and computer games. In the corner was a pile of guns, bats and just about anything you could classify as an offensive weapon.
Swagger crouched over a CD player and stabbed at the buttons until a blast of thrash metal spewed out of a huge pair of speakers. ‘To get us in the mood,’ he said hoarsely, turning to face her.
Kate was beginning to feel nauseous. ‘If music be the food of love, party on,’ she said, deadpan. Then she tried to curl her lips into what she hoped was a seductive smile. ‘Listen, Swag … D’you have a bathroom? I kind of need to freshen up.’
He took a step closer, his bulk massive and threatening. ‘You smell good to me.’
She batted her eyelids. ‘Pretty please?’
‘Down the hall,’ he said, gesturing to the right. ‘Don’t be long.’ He gave her a gruesome smile. ‘Or else I’ll come find you.’
‘I’ll be right back, sugar,’ she said, all doe-eyed. ‘And I don’t want to see so many clothes on you when I come back … stud.’
Swagger guffawed, leaned in and placed a slobbery kiss on her neck.
Kate could smell the blood on his breath. Her flesh crawled and she almost gagged, but she whispered in his ear, ‘You won’t believe what I’m going to do to you …’
He grinned and smacked his lips.
He actually believed she wanted him. He’d bought it – and she’d bought herself time. As he turned back to his hi-fi and started fiddling with the graphic equaliser, she discreetly lifted a metal crowbar from his pile of weapons and backed out of the office.
Once alone in the corridor she ran for the bathroom. As she threw open the door, she almost heaved – the air was rank, the floor was wet with puddles of God-knew-what. The toilets were cracked and filthy, most of the doors hanging off their hinges. The bulk of the grimy tiles had long since crumbled away from the damp walls.
And the windows had been boarded up and barred.
Keeping calm, Kate grabbed a slimy wooden mop from the wet floor. Swiftly, she rammed the shaft through the metal ‘D’ of the door handle and jammed the end of it behind a chipped washbasin. Now the door was jammed shut. It might buy her a little time.
She ran over to the nearest window. Thankfully, the sound of Swagger’s music was booming dully down the corridor, and covered the sound of splitting wood as she used the crowbar to lever off a panel and smashed through the dirty glass so she could see outside.
She swore. The bathroom overlooked the street, and safety – but the only way out was a sheer drop down at least three storeys.
‘Kate?’ there was a loud banging on the door. ‘C’mon, who takes five minutes to use the bathroom?’
‘I – I’m nearly through!’ she shouted.
‘Hey, the door’s jammed. What you doing in there?’
‘I …’ She wished she knew. ‘I’ll be two minutes. It’s not like I can get out, right?’
Right.
But Swagger was bored with waiting. And from the way he was beating at the door, he was coming in whether she was ready or not.
g
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CHAPTER EIGHT
Kate ran for the only cubicle that had a working door and locked it behind her; then she stood on the toilet to reach the small window. She began prising off one of the bars with the crowbar – she’d sooner jump, whatever the risk, than let Swagger get his filthy, sweaty hands on her.
Swagger was still banging at the door. She put all her strength into levering off the bar and finally it fell with a clang on to the floor.
‘Hey, what was that? Open up, you bitch!’ Swagger started kicking and smashing at the door with greater force.
Kate knew it wouldn’t hold him long. She ripped and smashed at the wooden board over the window. It was giving, but slowly. Did she have time to break out before Swagger got inside? Maybe she should hide behind the bathroom door, wait for him to get inside then whack him over the head with the crowbar. No, too risky, he could’ve brought Shaun upstairs … the whole lot of them. She imagined them grabbing her, forcing her to this filthy, stinking floor, and then …
Her fear and anger gave her strength. She swiped harder and harder at the wooden barrier, pulverising it, jarring her hands. At last it split and she ripped it clear before smashing her way through the window.
‘Bitch!’ With a scream of fury, Swagger finally broke his way inside. ‘Trying to split on me, huh? Think I’m stupid?’
Kate said nothing, concentrated on scraping the crowbar around the frame to clear the jagged splinters of glass remaining. But she gasped as the door behind her jumped and rattled under some great impact.
‘I’m gonna teach you, girl,’ he bellowed, his voice wild and cracked with rage. ‘You don’t mess with Swagger!’
She pushed herself out of the window, and the ground swam dizzily far below her. The door shuddered as Swagger ran at it again, the bolt nearly snapping clean through. She leaned out through the window to look above her this time – maybe she could climb to the floor above. No, there was nothing, nothing but—
A half-rusted drainpipe ran to the right of the window.
Her heart leaped. It wasn’t conveniently placed right beside her like in the movies; she couldn’t even touch it with her hand at full stretch. But if she could somehow balance on the narrow ledge and leap for it …
It was suicide. But so was staying in here.
She heard Swagger pulling off his heavy leathers and throwing them on the ground, breathing hoarsely. Either he was still in the mood or—
Uh-oh. Now she could hear bones clicking and popping, and the first guttural stirrings of the lupine creature inside Swagger.
‘’Wolf’s at your door, baby,’ she heard him rasp.
Kate dropped the crowbar and desperately swung herself out through the window feet first. Clinging to the top of the window frame, balancing her butt on the sill, she stretched out her long legs towards the downspout. Edging forward till she teetered on the ledge, she could just grip the rusting drainpipe with both ankles.
With a chilling roar, Swagger smashed down the door at last. She caught a glimpse of matted fur, vivid yellow eyes, sharp teeth snapping for her. Then, her ankles still locked around the downspout, she twisted her body around and pushed away from the windowsill with both hands.
For a sickening second she was sure she would fall. Then, to her amazement, her outstretched palms were slithering o
ver the rusting metal of the downspout.
Swagger’s huge head burst through the window, swinging around to face her, snarling and snapping at her. But the window was too small for him to lean out any further. He howled in impotent rage.
Kate knew the alarm would be raised in seconds and began to shinny down. The pipe was cold as she gripped it with both hands, the brackets that held it to the wall rusted and weak. Her lifeline began to creak ominously.
She winced in pain as metal fragments stuck in her palms, and tried to slide down as smoothly as she could, before the pipe gave way all together. Then, without warning, the section of pipe she was clinging to pulled away from the wall. Kate was so horrified she couldn’t even cry out. The world whistled about her as she fell, arms and legs flailing, dreading the inevitable crushing impact.
But her fall was broken by a couple of trashcans that – thank God – couldn’t have been emptied for weeks. They were filled to overflowing with bags of soft, slimy garbage that worked like smelly airbags. Her landing was only painful and humiliating instead of fatal.
‘Would you mind getting out of there? You’re making the trash all dirty.’
Kate looked round wildly and saw a dark figure looming over her. It was a garbage collector. Where had he sprung from? Why was he grinning like a—?
‘Tom!’ she wailed in disbelief.
He helped her up. ‘Next time you escape from somewhere, why not try the stairs?’ He sounded cool and casual, but the light in his eyes told her how pleased he was to see her. He pointed up at Swagger, still framed in the window. Thick drool was stringing down from the ’wolf’s slavering jaws. ‘I guess we should get out of here, huh?’
‘Right now,’ she muttered. She took a few tentative steps – her legs felt bruised and wobbly but at least they weren’t broken – then turned and gave Swagger the finger. ‘I said you wouldn’t believe what I’d do to you,’ she shouted, ‘you sick, evil bastard.’
The beast stared coldly down at Kate, then abruptly, it vanished from the window.
Tom got up, rubbing his back from where he’d fallen, and took her hand as he hobbled over to the corner of the half-derelict building. Jasmine and Rico were waiting there.
‘You was right, Tom,’ said Rico, grinning from ear to ear. ‘She was in there!’
‘Let’s move,’ said Jasmine, and started to sprint away down the street. The others set off after her.
Kate noticed Rico was wheezing. ‘Is he OK?’
‘Not really,’ Tom muttered.
‘He’ll be fine,’ Jasmine said hotly, skittering to a stop. ‘Ric, get on my back.’
‘I can carry him,’ Tom protested, as Rico dutifully climbed aboard.
‘No,’ she said, ‘I got him.’
With Rico clinging on around her neck, she moved off again – but at least now at a speed Kate and Tom could better match.
‘I thought you were dead,’ Kate said.
‘So did I,’ Tom answered. ‘A couple of times.’
‘How the hell did you find me at that place?’ she panted, gesturing to his outfit. ‘Were you emptying their trash or something?’
‘Funny. But don’t think this uniform entitles me to take any garbage from you!’ He gave her a smile. ‘We followed the trail of some ’wolf who tried to kill us. Only when it led us to the arena, I could’ve sworn there was a scent of you about the place.’
She frowned at him. ‘You saying I smell?’
‘Thought it was my imagination.’ He sniffed. ‘But now you’ve taken a bath in the trash …’
She stuck out her tongue. ‘Believe me, there’s worse garbage inside that place. You won’t believe what those freaks are doing.’
‘Tell me later,’ Tom puffed. ‘But God, Kate, is it ever good to see you.’
‘Sure it is,’ she said, and put on an extra spurt of speed so he wouldn’t see she was smiling.
Jasmine and Rico led them down through a number of narrow, deserted alleyways. Kate was desperate to stop and rest for a few moments, but she was damned if she would show any weakness in front of Little Miss Attitude. By the time they’d turned on to another street, Tom had overtaken her – and just the sight of Tom alive and well and running just ahead of her in his ridiculous get-up was enough for her to keep up the pace. No way was she letting him out of her sight again.
Finally they emerged on to a busier boulevard. Early risers were already trailing up and down the sidewalks, shopkeepers were opening up their stalls and warm, steamy smells wafted out of bakeries.
Jasmine finally called a halt and crouched down so a reluctant Rico could clamber off her back. ‘Too many people around here for them to try something,’ she said, acting like she’d barely broken a sweat. ‘Y’all wait here. I’ll fix us some wheels and we can get back to Ramone’s.’
Rico nodded approval, but Tom seemed less certain. ‘Stealing two cars in one morning? Isn’t that pushing your luck?’
‘You think we’ve been lucky so far today, Tommy-boy?’ She shook her head, apparently amused, and gave Tom’s ass a playful squeeze as she passed by. ‘Be ready, people.’
Kate stared in astonishment at Jasmine’s retreating figure, then folded her arms and regarded Tom coolly. ‘I see you made a new friend.’ She doubted his red cheeks were entirely down to running.
‘We’ve been through some stuff, I guess,’ Tom said.
‘That’s the truth,’ said Rico brightly.
Kate looked into Tom’s dark eyes expectantly, mustering all her usual cool. ‘Well, while we wait for her to get back, why don’t you tell me all about it,’ she suggested, jutting out her chin. ‘All the juicy details.’ But it felt like there was some screwed-up ball of something sour deep inside her, a spiky feeling she couldn’t swallow down. God strike me dead, she thought, all this shit going down and I get jealous for the first time in my whole life.
‘Hey,’ said Rico, pointing to a news stand in delight. ‘You two are famous outlaws again. Cool! You should get out of sight, fast.’
Kate read the headline screaming off the paper: TERROR TEEN COUPLE SIGHTED IN NEW YORK. ‘Cool’s one word for it,’ she muttered. ‘I can think of some other four-letter ones that describe it better.’
g
Jasmine found them a battered station wagon. ‘What did you expect?’ she told the disappointed Rico, ‘this ain’t Park Avenue.’
They all caught up on the car journey back to Ramone’s hangout over in El Barrio. Tom could hardly believe Kate’s story – his own adventures seemed like nothing next to her ordeal. Maybe she blamed him on some level for running out on her? There was a coldness about her now, a distance – but maybe she just needed some time to lick her wounds.
They spent the last minutes of the journey in silence. Tom shivered as he recognised the slum tenement they’d half-dragged, half-carried Ramone to last night. The door gaped open, hanging on a hinge. People walked by like it was nothing, like they hadn’t noticed a thing.
‘Ro?’ called Rico, first out of the car and scampering up the steps to the ruined kitchen area. ‘Ro, you there? ¿Estas bien?’
‘Ric!’ came Ramone’s raw voice from somewhere inside the place.
‘Thank God,’ murmured Jasmine, and ran after Rico.
Tom turned to Kate. ‘You sure you’re OK?’
‘Sure,’ she said. ‘Just thinking about Mommy Dearest.’
Tom grimaced. ‘With our pictures all over the New York Times, how long till we’re seen and caught?’
Kate nodded. ‘Mom won’t be leaving town till she’s found us, that’s for sure.’ She made to go after Jasmine and Rico.
‘Wait.’ He took hold of her arm. ‘Do you think your mom will really kill my folks?’
Kate looked at him. ‘I don’t know, Tom,’ she answered quietly. ‘If she does kill them, she’ll have no hold over you. But then we know she’s crazy …’
Tom sighed. ‘If I could find a cure we’d be free of this nightmare.’
Kate nodded. ‘We should
get back to looking for Jicaque.’
‘Yeah, let’s talk to Stacy Stein,’ Tom replied. ‘Woollard said her own work on a cure has a long way to go, but she might have come across Jicaque through her research.’
‘Swagger told his minions to make sure Stacy got those samples back. But then he said she was the dumbest bitch on the East Coast,’ Kate said thoughtfully. ‘Why would he have said that?’
‘No idea – but coming from him that’s a recommendation,’ Tom growled.
Kate smiled. ‘OK, but if we do go see her, what’s to stop her calling the cops the second she sees us?’
‘I’m cute as a button?’ Tom suggested hopefully.
‘Well, some people seem to think so,’ Kate said tightly, and she marched inside.
They found Ramone in the wrecked TV room, sprawled on a cushion, clutching his brother tight like a kid with a teddy bear. His olive complexion was waxy, crusty with blood. Polar was standing in the corner, shifting about nervously like he needed the john, his camera raised up over his hooded face. He snapped his flash at Tom and Kate, and another bruised square of paper spewed out from the camera.
Tom found his rucksack discarded under a table and searched it for fresh clothes. No luck; he’d ripped his way through his last pair of jeans.
Jasmine was boiling up some water, and fussing about with the first aid box. ‘What are you even doing here, Ramone?’ she grumbled. ‘You’re hurt bad. You need Doc Woollard.’
‘Don’t need no one,’ Ramone snapped back. ‘Don’t got no one.’ He looked up at Tom and Kate over Rico’s shoulder. ‘My people all cleared out. Puff got himself a hospital bed at Mount Sinai. They’ll know he’s jumped parole, man! Cops gonna be all over his fat ass.’
‘Guess he was real scared, huh, Ro?’ said Rico.
‘And Ciss skipped to New Jersey, bailin’ out with Fleet and China and the rest. Only Polar stayed behind.’ He lowered his voice, shook his head. ‘Just me and the fool. Cosy, ain’t it?’
‘What’s up, Ramone?’ Jasmine dabbed several swabs of cotton wool in the hot water. ‘We’re here. Girls and little kids don’t count?’