The Original's Return (Book 1)

by David Watkins

  “Have you ever seen anything like this?” Scarlet asked quietly.

  Carruthers shook his head. “We need to get him out of here. This little fella will help.” He waved the plastic bag containing the dead spider. Scarlet picked up the kit bag containing the bones and winch whilst Carruthers gave Meyers a fireman’s lift.

  They ran back to the car as quickly as they could under the weight they were both carrying. When they reached the car, Scarlet was a little surprised to realise he was more out of breath than Carruthers. Damn, he’s good. He turned the radio back on at the car.

  “How’s the air vac sergeant?”

  “Three minutes. Where are you?”

  “At the gates to the woods. There’s a field next to us they can land in.”

  “Roger that. I’ll pass it on. What happened to you lot?”

  “Knowles, this is really fucked up. You won’t believe us.”

  “Try me.”

  Carruthers touched his arm. “Look.”

  Scarlet turned back to face the woods and felt his legs turn to jelly. He lifted the radio to his mouth. “Uh, we have a new situation. Get that casevac to hurry.”

  In the starlight, they could see a black tide coming towards them, following the path they had just run down. They heard the rustling of bodies pushing for position and the click of many legs on stone.

  The spiders were coming.

  6

  Scarlet dropped the radio and raised his gun. It was the ultimate in futile gestures. The black mass continued towards them, that horrible click-click getting louder and louder. Scarlet fired a single shot at the head of the wave. A spider erupted and there was a momentary gap in the wave. It was soon filled as the spiders surged to fill the hole.

  “What are we going to do?” he gasped.

  “Listen,” Carruthers said with a calm he clearly didn’t feel. In the distance they could hear the steady thump-thump of an approaching helicopter. They didn’t bother to look for lights as the helicopter was probably running tactical. In any case, it was difficult to drag eyes away from the approaching spiders.

  “Get in the car,” Scarlet said. He rummaged in Meyers’ pockets until he found the keys. Up close, he could see how pale Meyers was, and he seemed to be trembling under his clothes. “What’s happening to him?” he asked.

  Carruthers barely glanced at him. “It’s the venom. He’s been poisoned.”

  “There aren’t any poisonous spiders in Britain. Don’t be a twat.”

  “There aren’t any that are a foot across either, but that doesn’t seem to be bothering that lot.”

  Scarlet clicked the car open and started to lift Meyers, but then Carruthers said, “Wait.” The helicopter sounded nearer now. Not long. Not long. Hurry, please hurry.

  Scarlet stopped mid lift and looked to where Carruthers was pointing. The spiders had stopped advancing. They stood about twenty feet away from the soldiers, not moving. Then the back of the mass peeled away and spiders scuttled in all directions.

  Scarlet dropped Meyers heavily and drew his Browning again. He aimed in all directions, twitching every way like a teenager without Ritalin. “Shit, shit, shit,” he yelled.

  Carruthers was silent. He stood unmoving, watching the spiders wheel around them. Eventually they stood at the centre of a circle of spiders. That horrible scratching sound stopped as they became motionless. The edge of the spiders looked to be a perfect circle, although the illusion was broken upon closer inspection. Odd spider limbs stuck out giving it a rougher appearance. Carruthers shuddered.

  “I fucking hate spiders,” Scarlet said. “Why aren’t they moving?”

  “It’s the bone,” Carruthers voice was still calm. “They didn’t attack until we took them, now they’re waiting again.”

  “What the fuck is with this place, man?”

  A spotlight suddenly illuminated the gloom, as bright as the sun in the dark woods. They shielded their eyes and braced themselves against the sudden down force of the rotors. The spiders suddenly scattered and they were alone on the road within seconds.

  “That’s just fucking wrong,” Scarlet said. “Where did they go?”

  Carruthers picked up the radio by Scarlet’s feet. The helicopter came in to land in the field next to the woods. Thirty seconds later a man wearing medic stripes ran over to them.

  “Did you see that?” Scarlet asked.

  “See what? I’m Pete. What you got for me boys?”

  “We have a man down, spider poison.”

  “Spider bite? Jesus, you got me out of bed and halfway across the country for a spider bite?”

  “You didn’t see the spiders?” Scarlet was incredulous.

  “What spiders?” Pete looked around the ground and shone his torch all round him.

  “These ones.” Carruthers held up the clear plastic bag containing the spider corpse.

  “Fuck me, that’s a big one,” Pete said and smiled. “Said the nun to the bishop.”

  Scarlet grabbed Pete by the throat and pressed his Browning to the other man’s cheek. “I’m not in the mood for shit jokes, sunshine. My man is hurt. Sort him out.”

  Pete stepped back as Scarlet released him. They glared at each other for a second. “Where is he?”

  Carruthers gestured at the ground behind him. Meyers lay still, not even twitching any more. Pete knelt next to him and felt for a pulse. He swore silently and immediately opened his bag. He took out a drip and a needle. He ripped the top of a bag of medicine, then injected Meyers straight in the middle of the chest.

  “He’s gone into a coma. We need to get him to hospital, now.”

  “Go,” Carruthers said, still using the unnaturally calm voice.

  Pete took a folding stretcher out of the bag and they rolled Meyers onto it. Then he and Carruthers lifted it and ran over to the helicopter. Carruthers threw the spider corpse bag into the cabin after Meyers was secured.

  “That’s what bit him.”

  “We’ll be in touch,” Pete said. The helicopter rose into the air and was gone.

  Carruthers ran back over to Scarlet, who was looking on the verge of panic. He kept scanning the tree line.

  “They’re out there man, I can feel them watching me.”

  “They won’t come any nearer now.”

  “How the fuck do you know that?”

  “I don’t. I’m guessing they were following the bones.”

  “Following the bones? For fuck’s sake, do you know how that sounds?”

  “Yep.” He lifted the bag of bones into the car and got in the driver’s side. Scarlet sprinted around the car and leapt in the other side. It was almost comical the speed with which he had moved. Almost. “As long as we have the bones, we’ll be alright.”

  “How can you stay so calm, man?”

  “Calm?” Carruthers said. “This has been one of the worst nights of my life. I fucking hate spiders.”

  Chapter 17

  1

  A lorry driver took pity on Jack and picked him up. A wrinkled nose as Jack climbed into the cab showed a moment’s regret, but Jack buckled his seat belt before the driver could change his mind.

  “Where to, mate?”

  “Barnstaple. Are you going anywhere near the hospital?”

  “Right by it.”

  Jack jumped out by a set of traffic lights near the hospital. The hospital car park was absolute bedlam. Ambulances sat in bays with lights flashing. Police cars had cordoned off the main road into the hospital and a TV crew filmed from beyond the line of police cars. He arrived just in time to see Katie leave. He also saw another car follow her out. Two police cars had been moved out of the cordon to let them through.

  They are heading for home. What are they looking for?

  Was Katie in trouble? That had been an unmarked police car following her - he was sure of it. Was she an accessory to murder? Were they looking to blame her for what he’d done?

  No. They were looking for things that might help them find him.

 
; Jack was still standing in shadows, looking at the chaotic car park. Nobody had seen him, but crowds were starting to form around the police barriers. He had to keep moving before anyone noticed him.

  He headed down a side street, just as a car rushed past him. Shadows engulfed him and he hoped he hadn’t been seen. The car sped on.

  Jack continued walking to the town centre. He scanned the pavement, picking up any change that he saw on the floor. The town centre was bright and loud. Bars, pumping out noise and light pollution, were filled with people drinking, laughing and dancing – but mostly just drinking. He passed a drunk man being sick and a couple pressed up against a wall doing things that really should be done in private. Jack walked on, ignoring everything around him. He was in no mood for a Friday night in town.

  A group of young men, the eldest no more than twenty, poured out of a pub and started arguing on the street ahead of him. He skirted the edge of them, head down scanning the pavement for more change.

  How much for a bus these days? He was nearly up to a pound. That was enough, surely?

  If he’d been paying more attention, nothing would have happened: many people would still be alive and he might have made it home.

  2

  Paul pushed Roger the way that drunken men do: far too hard to be taken as a joke, even though that was what was intended. Roger pushed him back and soon they were play fighting in the street. The rest of the group shouted at them, cheering and pushing them back together if they got too far apart.

  A man with shoulders hunched walked around the edge just as Paul fell into his path. They bumped into each other and the man kept his head down.

  “Sorry mate,” Paul shouted, laughing. The man kept walking, not acknowledging the younger man at all. Paul glanced at his friends who were now looking at the man. “Oi! I said sorry.”

  He kept walking. Paul looked first at Roger then at the rest of his friends, with a mock wounded expression on his face. He started to follow the man and his friends fell into step behind him. Paul walked swinging his arms and his shoulders, swaying slightly from side to side.

  “Oi! Mate. I was fucking talking to you.”

  “You tell ’im Paul.”

  “Go on mate!”

  Paul reached out and grabbed the man’s shoulder.

  3

  Jack turned when he felt his shoulder being pulled. He turned slowly, surprise on his face. Five young men stood watching him, each dressed in the Friday night uniform: shirts and jeans. Three were smoking, the stench of tobacco almost overwhelming him. All were drunk, fumes of lager and tequila seeping out of them.

  I don’t have time for this. I need to get to Huntleigh. I just need a few more pence.

  “I said I was fucking talking to you.”

  “Smack ’im in the mouth, Paul, teach ’im some fucking manners.”

  Paul grinned at his friends.

  “Sorry. I didn’t realise you were talking to me. I apologise.” Jack pushed Paul’s hand off his shoulder and turned to leave. Paul grabbed him again, harder this time.

  “Bit fucking late for apologies init?” He made an exaggerated sniffing sound. “You a right smelly cunt, ain’t you?”

  “Please. I don’t want trouble.”

  “Well you found it, you-” Paul paused, searching his not very extensive vocabulary for an alternative adjective, “smelly twat.”

  Jack breathed in deeply several times. It made no difference to his heart rate.

  “You need to leave,” he groaned. “NOW!”

  Silence greeted his shout, before the gang all started laughing.

  “Well, what the fuck are you going to do then?” Paul snarled and pulled back his fist. He punched Jack as hard as he could in the face.

  4

  Knowles had the radio scanning the police frequencies, trying to get any information at all about the Stadlers when he heard the call.

  “He’s tearing him apart! Help us, please, God help us!”

  A woman’s voice came next, calm and authoritative. “Try to stay calm sir, we have units en route.” There was a pause, then: “All units, all units, proceed to junction of Bear Street and Boutport Street in Barnstaple. Caution advised, I think we’ve found our animal.”

  Knowles looked at Jones. “How far away are we?”

  “Less than five.”

  “Fancy another crack at the wolf?”

  “What about Carruthers and that lot?”

  “Medic on route, e-vac if they need it. They’ll be ok.”

  “I hit that wolf you know.”

  “Yeah, me too. This time, we do the job properly.”

  Jones grinned and spun the car round.

  5

  Steve met up with the other two members of the Pack on the bridge into Barnstaple. All three had been sent to find out who had been scented in the area. Steven had been the lucky one who had made contact. Now Lucy and Anton were itching to meet the new recruit.

  Lucy was petite, polar opposite to Anton. As they walked into the centre of Barnstaple, they reminded Steve of the old “lower, middle, upper class” sketch from the years back. Lucy and Anton were lovers – Anton had turned her once he had been turned himself. He couldn’t bear to be without her for long. She had embraced the lifestyle with a passion that was enviable, but all the same, the lovers made Steven feel sick at times.

  “What’s that?”

  Lucy pointed up the street. There appeared to be a brawl ahead. Two men were running towards them, one of them yelling into his mobile phone. Behind them, two men lay on the floor whilst another had curled up into a ball.

  “It’s him,” Anton said in his monotone deep voice.

  “No shit,” Steve answered.

  “What do you want to do?” Steve liked the way Lucy always deferred to him.

  “Let’s just see what he’s capable of.”

  6

  Jack reeled from the punch and stumbled backwards. Paul was on him in a flash, raining blows on his head and body. His lips were curled in a snarl and he was shouting as he punched. The rest of the gang were also shouting, their voices mingling into a cacophonous roar.

  “Do ’im! Fuck ’im up!”

  “Look at ’is nose, man, that’s fucking funny!”

  “Jesus, Paul, mate that’s enough.”

  “Don’t be gay! Smack him again Paul!”

  Jack could barely hear the shouting over the thunder of blood in his ears. Not again. He reached up with a powerful hand and caught Paul’s hand as it flew towards his face. He twisted the hand around, feeling the power in his arm. Something snapped. Paul screamed.

  “My turn,” Jack growled in a voice that wasn’t quite his. Fur burst along his arms and he punched Paul with his free hand. Paul fell back, slipping to the ground, his left arm limp by his side and left hand at an angle that was just wrong.

  The mob fell silent instantly.

  “Holy shit,” Roger said, he held his hands up. “Hey, we’re going mate, no bother, eh?”

  “Too late,” Jack said in that same low growl. Claws grew out of his fingers. He grinned at the group. “You could try running.”

  He swept his arm out and caught Roger on the side of his face. Claws dug deep into the man’s cheek, tearing the flesh and leaving it hanging off his face. Blood spurted out, splashing Jack’s face and arms. He licked at the blood and grinned revealing long teeth.

  Roger screamed, long and loud, then collapsed clutching his ruined cheek. Two of the other gang members turned and fled. One of them was fumbling with a phone as he ran. The third stood still, face white. Jack sniffed him, drinking in the smell of his fear. Paul groaned on the floor and Jack pounced. He bit into his neck and more blood splashed onto the street.

  The street was dark here and Jack fed almost in private. Roger was unconscious on the floor, next to a small pile of bin bags. Blood was still pouring through his fingers and later he would need over sixty stitches and a skin graft to repair the damage. Every time he looked in the mirror, he would rem
ember the night and thank god he hadn’t been bitten. He didn’t ever tell anyone what had happened to him.

  The unmoving man had curled up into a ball and was rocking, muttering to himself. Jack paid him no heed. He ripped more of Paul’s throat out and spat it across the street.

  “Now who’s a cunt?” he roared in that strange other voice of his. The clothes ripped off his back and he fell to all fours. He threw back his head and howled: a high pitched noise that echoed around the buildings. Jack had gone and in his place stood an enormous black haired wolf.

  7

  “He’s fucking huge,” Steve said, almost in a whisper.

  “He’s bigger than-” Lucy started.

  “Yes.”

  They watched as the wolf finished eating the man. It ignored the other two but instead howled again, a sound that they were all familiar with. Steve started walking towards him, eyes wide and a large grin on his face. This wolf was bigger than Alex, hell, probably bigger than Callum, something that Steve planned to use to his advantage. Alex has been in charge for far too long.

  “What are you doing?” Lucy hissed.

  “He’s magnificent!” Steve cried.

  “Yeah, and dangerous.”

  “Not to us.”

  The wolf looked up as Steve approached. It bared its teeth and emitted a low growl. Lucy and Anton jogged up behind Steve.

  “Be careful,” Lucy said, putting her arm on Steve. “This is not what we were expecting.”

  Suddenly, the air was full of the sound of sirens and three police cars sped around the corner. Blue lights flashed and lit up the street, bathing the wolf in an eerie glow. Its fur seemed to absorb the light, giving the impression of a shadow surrounded by blue light. It lowered its front to the ground, tail between its legs. Underneath it was the corpse of its unfortunate attacker.

  Two policemen jumped out of each car and used doors for shields. Behind the wolf, more sirens were approaching.

  “Armed police!” they all shouted, slightly out of time with each other resulting in a cacophony of noise. One of them decided to take charge: “Please don’t go any further. Move slowly back towards us.”