Jack did not give up at any point, despite his increasing discomfort with being turned into the Wolf. In fact, today he shouted “No, I’ve changed my mind, don’t make me” as we turned the white noise on.
However, today was different. He tried to attack Private Salmon, but desisted when I called his name. He simply stopped when I asked him to. This is a very exciting development for obvious reasons. Doctor Starky is devising tests to see if Jack can control turning into the Wolf. The first of these tests is scheduled for tomorrow. I would prefer to continue investigating the control that Jack has when he is the Wolf.
My recommendations are:
Continue to develop Jack’s ability to control his actions as the Wolf.
Develop stronger tranquilisers. We cannot afford to lose any men to the Wolf. I believe that Jack is traumatised by his memory of killing the civilians in Devon.
Katie Stadler should be brought to see him, with Josh Stadler. I believe that seeing his wife will help Jack’s psychological recovery.
2
Knowles took a long sip of his beer and reread what he’d written. He went back through, changing ‘Jack’ to ‘Mr Stadler’, ‘Katie’ to ‘Mrs Stadler’ and ‘Claire’ to ‘Captain Biddlestone’ but left the capital on ‘Wolf’ then pressed Send. Smith and Starky were the two recipients, but who knew who they would forward it to?
When had he started to capitalise the Wolf? He wasn’t sure, but they were all doing it now: every report featured the Wolf. You could even hear it in speech.
He knew they would ignore his recommendations. Starky was too keen to figure out how Jack could change: he wanted to be able to control the ability. Once they had that nailed, they could then try to develop it for use with front line troops. All that speed and power would be useful, but at what cost to the men?
He drank more beer and switched to looking at the internet. He wasn’t searching for anything in particular, but read some film and music reviews. His mind kept coming back to Jack.
Katie should be here. He drained the bottle and got another, opening it and emptying half down his throat before he sat back down. It would help Jack. And brighten the base up. He grinned to himself. Claire Biddlestone did that too.
“You’ve got mail,” Homer Simpson’s voice informed him through his computer speaker. Knowles clicked on it and grimaced. Well that was quick.
3
Sergeant Knowles,
I have considered your recommendations. We are pushing ahead with phase two, as you are already aware. Stronger tranquiliser has already been developed: it will be circulated to all team members prior to the next test. Mrs Stadler believes her husband is dead. There is no reason to bring emotion into this project. Mr Stadler needs to focus on what we require of him, not his wife and son. When he has given us all he can, we will re-evaluate the situation.
Captain Daniel Starky, M.D.
4
The last sentence chilled Knowles to the bone.
It had been less than thirty minutes since he had sent the email, so Starky had not spent much time considering his recommendations. Just a grunt, making up the numbers. He put the empty bottle on the table, ran his hands through his hair and made a decision. His rucksack was to hand and he filled it quickly.
He stepped out of his single room cabin and crossed the courtyard. One of the two soldiers on guard started to salute, but Knowles scowled at him. It was Salmon, the one who had run first.
“I’m a sergeant, you idiot.” He opened the door to the room – prison –where they were holding Jack. They didn’t search his bag: metal detectors would sound if he were to take a weapon into the room. He walked down the short corridor, swiped his card and opened the newly reinforced door.
Jack sat up when he entered.
“Sergeant Knowles.”
Knowles pulled up a chair. “May I sit?”
Jack snorted and nodded. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Knowles paused for a second. Now, that was a really good question. “I just wanted to talk,” he said, then grinned. “Like Bob Hoskins.”
“Showing your age, Sergeant.”
“Yeah.” He looked around the room, even though he’d been in there dozens of times over the last few weeks. Fresh grey paint on the walls. Basic amenities. He’d have better living conditions if he was a rat in lab 32. “How you doing?”
“Do you really care?” Jack asked.
“Can I get you anything?”
“My wife. My child. My home. My fucking life back.”
“You know I can’t do that.”
“Well, what can you do?”
“How about a beer?” Knowles opened the bag and held up two bottles of Sol. “You look like you could use one.”
Jack shook his head in disbelief then smiled. “Do you have clearance for this?”
Knowles shook his head and returned the grin. “I’ll probably get a bollocking when they review the tapes, but fuck it.”
“They’re not watching me now?”
“Yeah, but it’s supposed to be me.”
Jack laughed. “Abusing your power to bring me a beer. Sergeant, you just went up in my estimation.”
“Call me Knowles, everyone else does.”
“Not Peter?”
“I don’t think my mother even calls me that anymore.” Knowles opened the beers and handed one to Jack. “Called,” he muttered quietly.
“You don’t speak?”
That bloody hearing of his. “She died, three years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” Jack drank a tentative sip of his beer.
“Don’t be. We hadn’t spoken since I joined up.”
“When did you join up?”
“I was 16.”
They fell into an awkward silence, both sipping their beers.
“It’s not the same without lime,” Knowles said eventually.
“It’s not the same as a proper beer, but I’m not complaining.”
“Proper beer?”
Jack smiled. “Something like Exmoor Gold.”
“Ah, real ale.” Knowles returned the smile. “Doesn’t that rot your guts though?”
“Yeah, god-awful wind.” Jack looked around his small room. “Probably not too wise in here, eh?”
They both laughed, and a more comfortable silence fell between them.
“Am I allowed to drink?” Jack asked as he put the empty bottle on the floor. “It wasn’t good last time I did.”
“Probably not,” Knowles said. “The docs will want to know how much control you have. Beer takes that away.” He reached into the bag and passed Jack another bottle. “Fuck ‘em.”
Jack nodded. “Will they cure me?”
“I don’t know,” Knowles admitted. “If you can control it, then maybe you could live a normal life again.”
“I don’t think my life will ever be normal.” Jack drank more beer to hide the break in his voice. “I just want to see my wife and child again. He’ll be two months now and I’ve missed it all.”
Knowles nodded. “We’ll get you home, Jack, I give you my word.”
“Do you break your word often, Knowles?”
“Never intentionally,” Knowles grinned, “although my ex-wife might disagree with that.”
Jack stood up and paced the room, drinking all the while. “I could use a stereo.”
“Not a TV?”
“Never been a big fan of the box. All that reality shit and wideboy chefs telling me what to eat,” Jack said.
“Yeah, it’s a bit shit isn’t it?”
“We seem to be a nation that worships fucking talentless idiots.” Jack sat back on his bed. “But don’t get me started on that. I’ve been known to rant, and getting angry is not good for me right now.”
“Like the Hulk.”
“Yep. I’m Bruce fucking Banner.”
They both laughed again. “So, music?” Knowles asked.
“Music,” Jack nodded. “I’ve never been able to handle silence you know? I have music wi
th everything. If I’m not teaching, I play some tunes whilst I plan. It annoys the shit out of the English teacher next door to me. First thing I always did in the morning was put the stereo on. Used to annoy Katie too.”
“What kind of music?” Knowles said, before Jack could dwell on Katie.
“Anything really, but you can’t beat a bit of rock.” Jack smiled. “I keep waiting to grow out of it, but nothing cheers me up more than a fantastic guitar riff played real loud.”
“Same here,” Knowles said. “In Afghanistan, I took my mp3 player everywhere. Green Day, Doves, Feeder, even a bit of Bon Jovi, but don’t tell anyone. Kept me sane.”
“Bon Jovi?”
“Yeah. Used to have long hair, before I joined up. That was a shock, all that being shaved.”
“I saw them live once,” Jack said. “They were good, but they played a few Beatles covers and I thought ‘what’s the point of that?’”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t stand the fucking Beatles.”
Knowles spat beer across the room as he laughed. “I thought it was just me.”
“No,” Jack said, grinning.
“Bon Jovi live? Bet it was a good show though?” When Jack nodded, he continued, “So what was your best concert?”
“Bruce Springsteen. Around ’93. He played all his hits, and played for hours. It was sunny and there was plenty of beer. No massive light show, just him and his band. Fantastic.”
Knowles nodded. “Good choice. I always wanted to see him, but never got round to it.”
“Yours?”
“Easy. U2, on the Zoo TV tour. One hell of a show.”
“Good choice.”
“Bono gets a lot of flak, but he’s got great presence.”
Jack emptied his bottle and Knowles drained his. “I’m out. Sorry.”
“No problem,” Jack said. “Thank you for the beer. It’s been a while – it’s gone right to my head.”
“Just don’t get angry.” Knowles stood and picked up the ruck sack. “Take it easy Jack.”
“Knowles,” Jack said, as the other man opened the door. “Thank you.”
“Any time.”
Chapter 25
1
Steve used the tree as cover from the rain. He leant against the bark and brushed water out of his hair. The rain came down hard for a couple of minutes. Shivering, he pulled his coat together.
He scanned the area around him. Trees lined a road that ran up through the park and the road swept up a long hill. In the distance, he could see the naval college buildings and off to his right, on the hill overlooking the whole park, was the famous Greenwich Observatory. Near the foot of the hill, Anton was leaning against another tree and it was hard to tell which was wider, the tree or Anton. Standing next to him was Alex.
This is not going to work.
The thought ran through his mind for the umpteenth time that day. They were due here any minute, if they were going to show. Steve fingered the gun in his pocket, but it didn’t reassure him. Guns only get you so far.
Alex waved at him, beckoning him over. Steve swore, pulled his collar up and ran over to him. The grass squelched under his feet and water seeped into his trainers. One downside to this lifestyle was constantly having to steal new clothes. Sometimes, you just couldn’t guarantee the quality.
“They’re coming,” Alex said. Steve looked up nervously, but couldn’t see anyone. “Remember, I do the talking.”
Alex pointed at the main gate as four men stepped through. They all walked with a clear gap between them and Steve was reminded briefly of Reservoir Dogs, the last film he’d seen as a human. All four were big men, on a par with Alex. One was bigger even than Anton and he had a scar running down the left hand side of his face.
Callum.
Steve swallowed hard. The four men spread out more when they reached the grass area in front of Alex. Behind them, more people were flooding into the park. More of us. He started to count. At least fifty. No sixty, seventy maybe. He gave up. Jesus, they came.
Alex smiled. “Callum.”
“Alex,” the bigger man nodded. “I thought I made it clear you shouldn’t come back.”
“Just passing through,” Alex said, suddenly pale. “I have news.”
“That you needed all of us for? I swear you will not leave this park if you are wasting my time.”
The three other alphas all nodded. Steve clutched the butt of his gun, but left it in the pocket. Good to have some surprises. He wondered what the tribal tattoos on Callum’s neck would look like when he changed.
“We have seen one of the Originals.”
“Originals?” Callum snorted. “They died out centuries ago. You went to Berlin on that rumour didn’t you?”
The alphas all started to bare their teeth. “You are wasting our time,” one of them growled.
“It’s true.” Alex stood his ground. Callum stepped up to him and started to sniff.
“You don’t smell afraid,” he said, with a theatrical look at the other alphas.
“There is an Original here in Britain. We have to rescue him.”
Steve risked a glance at Anton when Alex said that. The other man remained impassive. Interesting. I wonder what he’ll actually do when we catch up with Jack.
“Wait a minute,” Callum shook his head, then laughed. “Rescue? Why would an Original need rescuing from anyone?” The other alphas joined in the laughter.
Steve swallowed. Here we go.
“Because he doesn’t know what he is,” Alex said.
2
The pub was empty before they walked in and the solitary barman looked very surprised when they poured in through the doors. Various pack members segregated themselves by sitting at different tables in different parts of the pub. Steve and Anton stayed close to Alex.
Callum put a credit card on the bar. “Drinks. Until we leave.”
The barman swiped the card, then picked up a phone. Callum’s hand shot across the bar, long nails digging into the man’s arm. The barman screeched.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting help,” the barman replied. “Please, you’re hurting me.” His voice was very light and effeminate. Steve repressed a grin. Greenwich Theatre pubs. Excellent.
“No. Just you.” Callum snarled. “We are locking the doors.”
“Sir, I-”
Callum growled, baring his teeth, before letting the man’s arm go. The barman was trembling as he nodded. “Just me.” He set to work, tears obvious in the corners of his eyes. Callum had that effect on people.
Callum pulled Alex close to him. “Tell me more.” They moved to sit at a table and the other alphas joined them.
“My boys,” he gestured at Steve and Anton, “went to recruit, you know as standard when we get a new one.”
Steve tuned him out. He remembered the smell of new recruits. That unmistakeable wolf tang in the air, tinged with something that wouldn’t last long when they were recruited: cleanliness. He thought back to his first meeting with Jack, on the beach. Had he thought then that there was something different? Or was his memory telling him he should have?
“They saw him get shot?”
Alex nodded. “Then, we got a trace of him again. We followed the scent to a village and he was there – alive!” He looked round the table, eyes shining with excitement.
“People survive being shot all the time.”
“Thirty times?”
Callum inclined his head slightly. One of his pack handed him a pint which he drank greedily.
“He was shot again,” Alex continued, “before we could attack. They were ready for us when we did attack. Most of my pack died. We killed two of them but they escaped by burning us.”
“Who the fuck are they?”
“I don’t know.” Alex accepted a drink from the same man. “They were prepared for us though.”
Steve used his drink to halt a grunt in his throat.
“Something to say?” Callum looked a
t Steve.
Christ, he’s got a mean stare. Steve’s legs trembled as he returned the stare.
“Steve isn’t convinced they knew that we were coming,” Alex said.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Callum said without taking his eyes off Steve.
“I think they were lucky,” Steve began, “or we were unlucky. Those men just shot at us, but they were all scared. You could smell it.”
Callum nodded. Fear probably smells like strawberries in summer to him. Steve had been told that you could smell fear when he first changed but he hadn’t believed Alex then. No, not then.
“Also, there were no silver bullets or any of that shit.”
Callum threw back his head and laughed. White teeth glinted sharply in his mouth. “I like you. This guy is good.”
Steve felt himself relax as Alex threw him a warning look. “They got lucky,” he repeated.
“So who are they?” Callum asked again.
“Steve has a theory,” Alex said. He sighed heavily and shook his head.
Callum growled, his nose and mouth momentarily elongating, his teeth growing. “Don’t make me tell you again,” Callum said, when his mouth was normal again.
Jesus, he can change just part of him. Steve tried to gather his thoughts. Only the Originals can do that. Or are supposed to be able to.
“I think they might have been soldiers. They were tooled up and reacted well to seeing us change,” Steve said. “They were trained.”
“Have the Army found out about us?” Callum asked.
“Possibly,” Alex said, snarling back at Callum. “But we should find the Original.”
“His name was Jack,” Steve said.
“You spoke to him?” Callum asked.
“Yes.”
Silence around the table. Callum raised his eyebrows. “Well?”
“He seemed normal. We talked, and he smelled of a fresh kill.”
“But you saw him get shot?”
“Me and him.” Steve gestured to Anton leaning on the bar. “He killed Anton’s woman.”
“The Original did?”
The Original's Return (Book 1) Page 20