Howling Legion (Skinners, Book 2)

by Marcus Pelegrimas

  “You really need to learn how to throw your weight around more,” Cole chuckled. “What’s up?”

  “How’s that downloadable content for Hammer Strike coming along?”

  “I’ve put a few more things together. The game’s only been released for a couple months.”

  “People on the forums have been clamoring for it,” Jason replied.

  Cole let out a haggard sigh that he hoped translated fully through the cellular connection. “People on the forums are always clamoring for something. When we announced there would be downloadable content for Hammer Strike, they wanted to know what it was and when it was coming. When we released that first batch of stuff, they all bitched that it wasn’t enough. When we announced that the new multiplayer maps were coming, they bitched about the release dates or the price.”

  After a slight pause, Jason said, “That first batch was just a bunch of different clothes for the characters and new designs for the weapons.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “The new designs didn’t even change weapon performance, and we charged three dollars for each download.”

  “I know!” When Cole sighed again, it was less for dramatic effect and more to get some actual air into his lungs. “That first batch was rushed. I know it was crap. I made the crap. I check the forums, so I realize everyone else out there thought it was crap too. Still, it sold pretty well.”

  Jason didn’t voice his impatience, but Cole could feel it as if he could see his boss rolling his eyes to examine the underside of the Mariners cap that was always stuck on his head. “We’ve got some loyal fans. They buy our games because they know they’ll be good, and they download the extra content because they think it’ll be just as good. I let that first batch slide to test the waters, but it didn’t go over well. Not well at all.”

  As always, Jason was being kind. Cole had worked on Hammer Strike since the game was nothing more than an excited conversation over some hastily drawn sketches. Since then both of them had been hip-deep in creating the characters, enemies, fighting mechanics, level design, background rendering, and anything else it took to turn ideas into a functioning video game. When Cole took off for his vacation to Canada, Hammer Strike had been almost ready to be pressed onto disks. That was before he knew what a Skinner was or that monsters were real. After Hammer Strike had been released, it was all he could do to keep up with the project he’d started.

  “Maybe I shouldn’t be on this team anymore,” Cole grumbled.

  “That’s what I was calling about.”

  “What? You really think I should be off the team?”

  “No,” Jason said. “I could tell you’ve been having your doubts. Before you left Seattle, you ate and breathed Hammer Strike. You were supposed to come back to fix the remaining bugs, remember?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You never came back and just threw together a patch on your laptop. What the hell happened?”

  Rather than try to lie to his longtime friend, Cole simply replied, “I told you what happened.”

  “First you told me there was family trouble you needed to work through. Then you said you had to stay in Chicago for personal reasons. The only way those excuses could get more generic would be for you to send them to me written in black ballpoint on a brown paper sack.”

  “I know.”

  “And I’m not trying to get into your personal business. If you need time away, you can have it. If you want to keep working for Digital Dreamers, you can, but I don’t usually allow someone at your level to work remotely. I don’t care what kind of a laptop you’ve got, you need to be here with the rest of the team to hash out new ideas and put together a functioning build for the next Hammer Strike. We need something to show at the next Electronic Gaming Conference.”

  “So there really is gonna be a Hammer Strike 2?” Cole asked.

  “Not if we keep churning out garbage like that first batch of downloadable content. Come on, Cole. Did you really think a few new color sets for the weapons would make fans happy?”

  Suddenly, Cole felt like a kid being scolded by the principal. What made it worse was that he knew he had it coming. “No, Jason,” he sighed. “I didn’t.”

  “Have you heard the new slang floating around the review sites?”

  “Yeah,” Cole laughed. “When this year’s NFL game came out, they tried to make people pay a few bucks more to unlock the bonus stadiums and a few different touchdown dances for their characters. Someone called the patch ‘Hammer Paint.’ To be honest, though, that first content I submitted was more than just different colors.”

  “There were a few new shapes for the weapon handles too. Whoopie. The point is that whenever anyone online thinks they’re getting ripped off by some shoddy crap pushed out by a game company, they call it ‘Hammer Paint.’ That does us no favors, buddy.”

  Cole winced at that. It was one thing to catch grief from fans. Hearing it from a friend and his boss was bad. Since both of those people were wrapped up into one normally soft-spoken guy, it was doubly bad.

  “What are you working on now?” Jason asked.

  “You haven’t gotten my latest?”

  “No. That’s why I called.”

  Frantically, Cole tapped on his laptop to see when he’d sent his last e-mail to Digital Dreamers. “Aw hell, Jason. I thought I sent it to you a week ago.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll love this,” Cole said as he leaned forward in his chair. “Not only have I worked out some new multiplayer arenas, but I’ve incorporated shifting day and night patterns that affect which monsters are out at what times. And get this—after they download the patch, if snipers camp in the same old spots for too long, those monsters will sniff them out. Some of the urban areas will have collapsing buildings or new areas attached to the perimeter of the play area. It’ll breathe new life into all the popular maps!”

  “Okay,” Jason said in a favorable tone that probably came along with a nod. “What else have you got?”

  Relieved by the reaction he’d gotten, Cole said, “I’ve designed some new enemies as well.”

  “More monsters? Do we really need that?”

  “These monsters aren’t just new character models. They’re the old monsters that transform into bigger, stronger, or faster ones. It’s a real evolution of the game and it’ll only require a few more animations to go from one to the other. Trust me,” Cole added. “I’ve researched them thoroughly and they’ll kick our players’ asses. I’ve got everything drawn up and laid out as far as how it all fits together. It sounds like a mess right now, but it’ll be so cool.”

  “Sounds like it.” This time Jason seemed genuinely pleased.

  “But wait,” Cole added in a voice pulled straight from a late night infomercial, “there’s more. I wrote up some tweaks for the now infamous painted hammers that will upgrade the stats.”

  “You mean the different colors and handles won’t just be pretty?”

  “Nope. I came up with ways to modify the weapons so anyone who bought that first batch of downloadable content will do more damage or get more attacks or even—”

  “I get it, Cole. Will it be easy to implement?”

  “The changes should just fit right into a patch that—” Knowing Jason was more concerned with the bottom line, Cole cut himself short. “It’ll just be another download. I thought we could make it free as a show of goodwill.”

  “And a way to apologize for the first bunch of crap we put on the market.”

  “My way didn’t sound so brutal, but yeah.”

  “Send what you’ve got as soon as you can,” Jason said.

  “I just did. Hopefully this will keep me employed for a little while longer.”

  “I wasn’t going to fire you, Cole. Well, not yet anyway. Apart from the whole Hammer Paint fiasco, you’ve been turning in better content than any of our other part-time contractors.”

  Part-time contractors. A fancy name for the guys who sent in pages of idea
s to get a small commission. He might not have clawed too high up the corporate ladder, but the part-timers didn’t even have a rung. Now it seemed he was down there with them.

  As if picking up on the gloom settling in over Cole’s head, Jason asked, “How’s Paige?”

  “What was that?”

  “Paige. You mentioned her in a few of your other e-mails a while ago. It sounded like she might be something more than just a friend, but you hadn’t quite…you know…sealed the deal.”

  Jason was never good at guy talk. He knew the basics, but couldn’t commit enough to the subtle banalities to be truly fluent in the language.

  “She’s been kicking my ass,” Cole grumbled.

  “I hear you, man. Women.”

  “I’m going to stop you before you try to call me bro.”

  “That’s probably for the best.” Jason shifted enough to make his chair squeak and then said, “The e-mail just arrived. It looks like some good stuff. Your old job is waiting for you whenever you decide to come back to Seattle, but don’t take advantage of our friendship. Another Hammer Paint fiasco will sink our download division for good.”

  “Read through everything I sent you. If you still want to scold me after that, I’ll bend over and take it like a good cell mate.”

  Chapter 4

  Kansas City University of Medicine

  Kansas City, Missouri

  Lisa Wilson knew better than to walk by herself at night. Not only had her parents drummed that into her head ever since she was young enough to have strangers offer her candy, but she had enough common sense to avoid certain spots after the streetlights came on.

  She’d enrolled in the University of Medicine because it was located in a section of town she knew well and, thanks to a few student loans and a partial scholarship, the tuition was within her range. The little apartment she shared with a roommate was a short walk from the university on Highland Avenue, and Lisa knew how to get there without straying into any danger zones.

  There were always some potheads hanging out near the buildings between school and home, but they were more hungry than harmful. A few bums shuffled across the street, and Lisa smiled at the dirty, familiar faces. That smile faded a bit when she pointed it at a man slouched against a light pole bordering the parking lot where she kept her red Nissan. The man sat with his skinny legs bent and his lanky arms resting upon his knees. His back was against the pole and the color of his skin made it look as if he’d spent a lot of time under a rock. Lisa politely turned away from him and kept walking.

  “Hey,” the man shouted in a guttural English accent. “Got time for a chat?”

  Rolling her eyes, she shook her head and kept moving. Between the Jehovah Witnesses, Mormons, and countless other religious salesmen roaming the apartment complexes near the university, she’d gotten lots of practice in the art of courteous apathy.

  “Hey!”

  The sound cut through the air like a shovel that had been swung at the back of her head. It stopped her in her tracks and got her heart racing within her chest. She turned to see what the man was doing and found him standing upright with his back to the light pole, watching her silently. His gleaming eyes looked vaguely attractive, but were framed by a sunken face and a leering smile.

  Suddenly, Lisa was very aware of what she was wearing. It was hot and humid, but perhaps the denim shorts she’d chosen were too short. Maybe she’d been stupid to make the walk to her apartment wearing the Kansas City Chiefs shirt that barely made it down to her waist. If she moved in the slightest, her bare belly could be seen, along with the little shamrock tattoo she’d gotten over the last spring break. Nervously fidgeting with her short, light brown hair, she almost ran away. Then she spotted a few of her friends gathered around a white pickup in the nearby parking lot. One of them was a big sports medicine major named Ryan. The other guy was Ryan’s roommate, and he was with a tattooed girl who carried pepper spray in her purse.

  “Come here, girlie,” the skinny man by the light pole said. “I got somethin’ for ya.”

  She might have been nervous, but she wasn’t going to be abused by some freak on the street. As much as she wanted to give the guy a swift kick, she knew better than to go near him. Instead, she dismissed him with a backward wave and hurried toward her apartment building. “Whatever!”

  “What’s the matter, dude? Couldn’t find any hookers to yell at?”

  Lisa glanced over her shoulder to find Ryan strutting toward the English accent freak in typical macho fashion: chest puffed and arms out. She did not usually find that sort of thing appealing, but it was more than welcome now.

  “You wanna yell at someone?” Ryan asked. “How about you yell at me?”

  Lisa turned around to ask Ryan to walk her to her place. The freak looked even bigger and bulkier now that he was standing up straight. He reached out to grab Ryan’s arm, then pulled it from its socket with a loud crunch. Ryan let out a high-pitched scream, which was immediately washed away by a wail from the freak that seemed like a primal mockery of the younger man’s pain.

  The man was even larger than he’d been a second ago, and his clothes were suddenly consumed by a coat of black fur that spewed from his skin. His cheeks were still sunken, but he’d grown a long snout and pointed ears that were flattened in a way far more menacing than Ryan’s puffed chest. The creature that had once been the freakish man opened its mouth and let out a rasping gurgle that almost matched the sound Ryan made after his throat was torn open.

  The fatal motion had been so quick that Lisa barely saw it. The creature pulled Ryan closer and then swiped its claws under his chin to send a bloody spray through the air. Once that was done, the only thing left for Ryan to do was bleed. All the while, the creature hacked as if gagging on his own drool.

  “Your turn…little lady.”

  It leaned forward to step toward her, stretching both arms out before dropping onto all fours. By the time it started running at her, the thing had shifted into a hulking animal with the frame of a wolf but the mass of a bear.

  A blanket of cold fear dropped onto Lisa’s shoulders. One of the guys in the parking lot was yelling something but seemed unable to do much else. The girl with the tattoos was fumbling with her cell phone, so Lisa turned and ran.

  Highland Avenue felt crooked beneath her feet. Her breath came in quick, frantic gulps. Her ears filled with the churning of the air and the pounding of her heart. When she got to her apartment building, she stuck her hand in her pocket to fish out her key.

  If she made it just a little farther, the thick metal of her front door might hold the thing back until the cops could get there. Surely, her friend in the parking lot was calling for help.

  The footsteps padding against the concrete behind her seemed light and heavy at the same time, brushing and stomping the ground in a rhythm that blended almost seamlessly with the panicked chorus inside her own body. Little cries fluttered at the top of her windpipe. A strained wheeze rattled within her chest as something pounded against her back.

  Then Lisa was shoved face first to the sidewalk as though she hadn’t even been moving. When she tried to crawl away, all she could do was scrape her fingers against the cracked cement and kick one leg against the ground. Her other leg had crumpled beneath her, snapping in three places. Before she could wrap her mind around that, bony spikes stabbed through her shoulder.

  The werewolf picked Lisa up as gently as his current form would allow and carried her away so only her heels brushed against the cement. Cars sped toward him, but the creature warned them away by curling his lips up to bare the teeth that were halfway sunken into Lisa’s shoulder. Driving his fangs in deeper and holding her with them, he crouched down and launched himself into the air. Another couple of jumps put a few blocks between himself and Ryan’s bloody remains. The screams were quickly left behind in the short time it took for the creature to find a nice quiet spot at the easternmost end of North Terrace Park.

  Dragging Lisa behind a row of trees,
he panted anxiously. His breaths churned back and forth like hot wind passing in and out of an old set of bellows. He kept his head low and twitched at every little sound. Then the beast slowly opened his jaws to let her slide off its teeth.

  Lisa Wilson was brought back from the edge of unconsciousness when she fell on top of her broken leg. Choking back the agony that came when she moved her arms, she sobbed while trying to pull herself to safety. North Terrace Park was thicker where it bunched up around North Chestnut Trafficway, but there were usually people hanging out in the thinner section bordering Cliff Drive and Gladstone Boulevard. The trees were thick there as well, providing plenty of natural cover from the few cars and trucks that ambled through the area. But if she could scream, she would be heard by someone. Anyone.

  Only a few feet away, the beast dug into the wet soil. Its tongue lolled out the side of its mouth and its paws tore at the earth in a frenzied blur.

  In a short, agonizing chain of motions, Lisa turned away from the creature and filled her lungs. Before she could expel the breath she’d collected, however, it snapped its head down to aim a pair of perfect, multifaceted eyes at her. The teeth it bared were coated in slick layers of her blood. Thick rivers of saliva flowed from its gums.

  The warning snarl lessened and its gaze lowered to the cracked bones protruding from her ravaged shoulder. When a sudden, burning stab of pain shot through Lisa’s upper body, the creature cocked its head ever so slightly. After that, it clawed at the ground a few more times to uncover a pit-sized hole that had been hastily covered with chunks of earth.

  Just as Lisa was about to pass out, her wounded shoulder was invaded by what felt like two rows of crooked steak knives. Fangs tore through her tender, shredded flesh and sank into the splintered bones below so the beast could lift her from the ground and toss her into the hole with a casual flick of its head.

  Lisa was dropped into a pit that reeked of decay and feces, and was shoved inside until the earth pressed against her cheek. At first she thought the shape beneath her was a log. When the log shifted and let out a shuddering breath, she realized her mistake.