‘Nice.’
‘Sable Fury.’ He grinned.
‘What?’
‘That’s your new name.’
She nodded, accepting it. It wasn’t important.
Dog
The place was not full. The weather was keeping away those who had to travel any distance. Or perhaps those who could not find an adequate excuse to go out into a snow storm. The ones who had families.
As usual, Mr Mendelssohn had been afforded a VIP booth. Bob Moses’ places were always nicely laid out, he had a flair for giving the punters what they needed, and he didn’t run prostitutes. Dog shrugged; everybody was different.
There was a buzz of excitement because there was a new fighter on the board: ‘Sable Fury’. It was in the second fight so they had about an hour to kill. Protocol required that Mr Mendelssohn watch the show before getting to talk to Moses—because the boss would be busy running things.
The outer door opened and a couple more people came in, in a swirl of snow. The weather really was bad out there; would they even be able to get back to Knutsford?
He froze in his seat as a particular smell wafted through his nose.
Mitchell!
What the hell was he doing here? Dog scanned the crowd. He was probably one of the ones who just came in, but although he was tall there was no real way of distinguishing him by sight. And there was no smell of Yates. So whoever he’d come in with—if it was him—wasn’t Yates. But there was a new smell of fancy deodorant.
It crossed Dog’s mind for a moment that Mitchell might be slumming it—did he prefer men to women? Dog had no idea.
Did Mitchell know what Dog looked like? Probably not, but it was worrying. Dog had the idea that maybe Mitchell would recognise him by his scent. It was stupid, of course, but that’s how it felt.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said.
Mendelssohn turned. ‘What is it?’
‘Mitchell’s here.’
‘Outside?’
‘In the room.’
‘Any other police?’
Dog chose not to mention that he could not actually tell a person’s profession from their smell ... well, that wasn’t entirely true, some professions were easy, but ones that did not involve working with a specific smelly thing were not recognisable.
‘I don’t think so. If he was planning a raid he wouldn’t have come in. Would he?’
Mendelssohn said nothing, but stared thoughtfully at the crowd and then at the exit.
‘I think there’s another man with him. Expensive cologne.’
‘Purity.’
Dog did not respond. His boss often had information not available to Dog himself.
‘Mitchell was moved to the girl kidnappings and a Purity agent from London is working with him.’
‘Do you want to leave?’
‘Not yet,’ said Mr Mendelssohn. ‘But why don’t you pop outside and tell George to make sure we’re ready to leave in a hurry.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Dog slipped away from the table and made his way along the wall, keeping his nose tuned to Mitchell so he didn’t get too close.
Chapter 28
Chloe
They weren’t taking any chances. Although she was no longer tied to the furniture, they had her attached to two of the guards, a set of handcuffs for each wrist. And hobbled. Another guard behind had a cattle-prod. The costume was padded around the body but allowed her arms and legs free movement. White zig-zag stripes had been painted all over her exposed skin including her face.
And just to prove she really was a freak there were gaps in the back to let her extras show. On the one hand it was more comfortable like that, but it embarrassed her. The extras were still growing fast and had added a few more inches as well as filling out.
The corridor that led to the fight area ended in a cage space where her captors could stand outside and she could be locked in without removing the cuffs. Once inside they reached in and applied the keys. She did not attempt to escape or rattle the locks. One of them pulled the hat from her head.
‘You don’t need it in there.’
She was terrified. The sounds of the previous fight, the battering of bodies against metal, inhuman screams, and cheers from the crowd had made her go cold.
The fight announcer out front began to work up the audience with his preparation for the next fight. ‘Your old favourite: Crabfish!’ The cheers were deafening. The reverberations made her acoustic sense overload. All she could see through the covered cage in front of her was a huge shape.
Moses came up to her. ‘I thought you might appreciate this,’ he said with a grin. ‘Chance for a re-match.’
From outside: ‘Presenting... Sable Fury!’
She saw the prod coming at her from behind and without thinking dodged forward just as the sheet was pulled away and the gate raised. She stumbled forward onto the sheet metal surface of the cage. The slamming behind her outlined the massive form coming at her from the side. She leapt straight up and her extras jutted out in a vee-shape without her even thinking.
She clung to the bars of the cage ceiling and stared down at a face she’d seen before: fish scales for skin, tiny round eyes and, swishing at her but too far to reach, the right arm a crab claw.
Someone was coming at her from above with a cattle-prod and she could smell the ozone. She let go and pushed off with her feet, rocketing down behind the freak that had attacked her at the tram stop. She wasn’t sure how much intelligence it retained, but it had been operating independently when it attacked her—when? A week ago? Could it really only be a week? It felt so much longer.
Sure enough, landing behind it did not cause any confusion. It lumbered into a turn and swung at her with its club-arm. She ducked and threw herself between its legs. Her extras caught and for a moment she was jammed. She made them go flat and pushed against its calves just as its working hand scrabbled for her ankle.
It would have got a good grip if she hadn’t moved; even so it was holding on. She slammed her other foot against the wrist and dislodged it. She twisted into a sitting position, jammed her bare feet into the back of its knees and grabbed its loose clothing.
Like Sensei always said: leverage. She pulled hard while pushing into its knees. They bent and its weight toppled it backward. She did not fancy being underneath it when it landed.
She scooted to the left as it crashed to the ground. She grabbed the left wrist and used its weight to lever her body to a standing position. She crossed her legs over the arm by the shoulder and yanked hard, pulling it into a dislocating arm lock.
Then she heard someone in the crowd say, ‘That’s Chloe Dark’, and looked out through the cage bars.
Dog
When Dog stepped back into the room, he couldn’t believe it. Except it was his nose, so he did believe it. Completely. There was another special somewhere here. Not only that, he recognised it from the heist. That whiff of something that had momentarily distracted him.
He stared round. He knew it was a girl, and she was scared. Where was she?
Where was Mitchell, too? This was getting complicated. Mitchell was at a table with his friend.
Where was the girl?
‘Sable Fury!’
He stared at the cage as the girl was pushed out. Face painted with white zig-zag strips, the rest of her costume was the same. They’d even painted her arms and legs. For a second, he thought Crabfish was going to make this a very short fight. Then she was hanging from the cage bars above him. Great, we’ve seen that trick before. The scent of her flooded the room—at least, as far as his nose was concerned.
Dog made a bee-line for Mr Mendelssohn, pushing through the crowd.
‘That girl!’
‘I think it’s Chloe Dark,’ said Mr Mendelssohn. ‘Moses has no imagination.’
There was a roar from the crowd. Dog glanced back as Sable Fury pulled Crabfish to the ground and then snapped his arm from its socket. ‘Nice,’ he said then remembered himself.
>
‘Sir, she’s one of us. Like Delia, Jason and me.’
‘Another one?’
‘We have to do something!’
‘There’s nothing we can do here.’
‘We have to stop it, get her out of there. She’s another recruit for you.’
Mendelssohn turned his gaze on Dog. ‘If she survives we’ll see what can be done.’
Dog turned as Mitchell stood up from his table and Sable Fury’s scream was cut off as the crab claw snapped at her neck. She pulled back but there was blood dripping from a tear in her skin.
Mitchell
He blinked twice as the painted face of Sable Fury emerged. He already knew, but the jump convinced him. And he saw the additional limbs sticking out so perfectly from her back. She had been in the hospital only days ago and there had been nothing like this. How could she possibly be developing so fast; could it be a new strain of S.I.D?
He looked at the Purity officer to his right, who was grinning at the mayhem.
‘I’m quite taken with this. Perhaps we should instigate this as an official sport, Mitchell,’ he said turning to the policeman. ‘You know, like the Roman arena. It’d keep the masses happy.’
Mitchell shook his head slowly and reached into his coat for his gun.
Graham frowned. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘That’s Chloe Dark.’
He stood up to see the girl staring straight at him. The crab claw of the other arm snapped out at her neck, drawing blood. Mitchell fired three times into the freak’s body.
Dog
The gunshots were punishingly loud. Then he heard a growing roar, and knew he had moments to act. He flung himself over the table at Mr Mendelssohn seated on the other side; as an explosion ripped through the wall at the far end of the room.
The concussion wave knocked him further back, carrying his boss with him, protected by Dog’s body.
Then everything went black.
Chapter 29
John Smith
He stood back from the building and held his hands over his ears as the explosion ripped through the rear. The windows on all floors exploded out. When the noise faded, it became oddly quiet.
Then the screams started up. The cries for help. But none of those would be coming from where Bob Moses had been sitting, in the back. It was of no consequence if the people in the crowd lived or died, nor whether the freaks inside escaped or were consumed in the fire that was to come.
He could already see the flames licking up from the destroyed parts of the building. They highlighted the falling snow in red and orange. Good. That was a job well done. Each target he had been assigned was dead and he could look forward to a sizable increase in his reserves.
There was a sound behind him. Then pain in his chest. He touched his coat at the front and felt the warm blood pumping from it. He tried to turn, staggered, and found his legs would no longer support him.
He fell into the cold snow. All he saw was a pair of shoes move directly in front of him. He almost did not hear the popping sound that ended his life.
Episode V: Reasons
Chapter 1
Dog
He resisted the temptation to lick Mr Mendelssohn’s face. Apart from anything else, it was dirty. Everything was covered with the dust that hung in the air and made every breath like an attempt to eat bricks.
He could hear nothing, except a high-pitched whine which seemed to come from inside his own head. There was nothing to smell except the dust, and there was very little light. The lack of senses was disorienting. He climbed off his boss. That was when he noticed the gash across Mendelssohn’s head.
Then he remembered the girl. What had his boss said just before the explosion? Chloe Dark? How did he know her name?
Didn’t matter. Where was she?
The whining in his ears grew louder. Dog pushed himself into a crouching position, turned and stood. If this was an attack on Moses, someone might be coming in to mop up anyone who was left.
No need.
The place was a wreck. Bodies of the punters lay strewn across the floor, like grass blown flat by the wind. Pieces of wood and masonry had been added as a random topping. There was movement, someone sat up. Hands moving, trying to escape from under timber and stone.
What had happened to Mitchell?
He had been standing. There had been shots. He’d fired into the cage. That’s what Mitchell did. He killed freaks. Had he shot the girl? Had he had time?
Dog looked around at the debris near him. The toppled table had prevented the faster-moving projectiles reaching them. A metal strut had pierced the wood and torn a hole a foot long before it had come to rest. It was just hanging there above Mr Mendelssohn’s head.
The cage?
The body of Crabfish lay on the floor of the cage. He couldn’t see the girl. It was dark in here and the flickering of the fire starting up on the far side did not provide reliable light, but it was growing and soon would.
His ears popped and he was hearing as if underwater. Moans, cries, the snapping of burning wood, all muffled but there. Where was the girl?
Picking his way across the uneven floor, avoiding the pile of bodies in the middle, he made his way to the cage. A movement caught his eye and he looked up. She was clinging to the bars at the top and hanging with her head upside-down. She was looking directly at him.
Dog glanced guiltily across to where he had left his boss. He should help him, but the girl drew him. Another one like him, someone who smelled like him, one of his real pack.
And then she was on the ground directly on the other side of the bars from him. The white stripes they had painted on her face were spattered with blood and dust. She had two long protrusions from her back that moved as she did: bending and balancing like additional arms. She was one of the unlucky ones, like freak-boy. The ones who couldn’t pass for human. At least Delia gave the impression of being normal looking.
‘Finished staring?’ she said.
‘Sorry.’
She put her head on one side. ‘Can’t hear a word.’
He looked across the ruin of the building. The room was getting brighter. The flames had worked their way past the demolished door and wall at the far end. There was a thundering collapse close to where the explosion must have taken place. Smoke and dust billowed out. Someone screamed.
She jerked her head round to look. The scream died in a gurgle.
‘Hearing coming back?’
She ignored him. He reached through the bars to touch her arm. And slammed into the metal as she grabbed him, levered her feet against the floor and yanked him forward. He found his arm twisted in a way it wasn’t meant to go and his body followed as best it could.
‘Fucking hell!’
‘Don’t touch me!’
‘Sorry!’
‘I told you I can’t hear what you’re saying.’
His protest that she must have heard the collapse and scream died on his lips. She released his arm and stepped back, holding her hands up in a gesture that might have been placating if she hadn’t almost ripped his arm off. His ears seemed to be clearing. He just wished he could smell normally, but right at this moment the smell of burning flesh did not appeal.
‘Can you get me out?’ she said in that over-loud way people spoke when they could not hear themselves.
‘Round the back.’
She put her hands on her hips and gave him a ‘look’. He pointed then heard someone clambering over the rubble. He turned and in the flickering light saw George. Looking back at the girl, he held up his finger to indicate she should wait, and the look intensified. He could almost hear her thinking I’m not going anywhere.
He hurried back to Mendelssohn, waving at George. The driver had a torch and checked their boss over, paying particular attention to his head, touching and pressing the skull gently.
‘I think he’s okay,’ said Dog, not really knowing if that was true but hoping for Delia’s sake it was. ‘Can you get him b
ack to the car on your own?’
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Mitchell’s here with some Purity bloke. I need to get the girl out.’
‘Mitchell? Bloody hell. We better get out before the police get here.’
‘Yeah. When he wakes up, tell him I’ll report tomorrow.’
George nodded, got Mr Mendelssohn into his arms and staggered across the uneven surface. The air was filling with smoke and the sound of burning.
Dog hurried back to the cage. She was sitting on the floor, waiting.
‘Finished?’
He indicated the back as before and headed that way. He trod on something soft and unpleasant. He decided not to investigate.
‘Oh, god,’ she said. There was the sound of retching. He glanced into the cage and saw her bent over. He reached the entrance tunnel and saw why. There was half a brick reflecting light in a damp way, lying in the middle of the cage tunnel. Wedged into the bars of the tunnel wall were the remains of one of Moses’ henchmen. Most of his head was missing, only the jaw and the ear on this side remained. Dog wondered if he needed to wipe brains from his shoe. Mind you, there probably wouldn’t be much.
Dog didn’t feel good himself.
‘He’s the one with the keys,’ she said hoarsely and then choked.
Terrific.
‘And my hat.’
She still has a riffy? The metal of the cage should keep that blocked but she did need a hat.
The burning sound was becoming more insistent.
Taking a deep breath he went round the end of the tunnel and felt through the guy’s pockets, trying not to dislodge him from the bars. He found the keys but not the hat. He had a thought: Bugger.
‘I’ve got the keys!’ he shouted. She stared blankly, so he dangled them. She pushed her hand out between the bars. He placed them into her palm and she snatched them back. ‘Manners,’ he muttered.
‘I need my hat!’
Dog pointed at the bloke’s lack of head. She turned away and retched again. He took the opportunity to move back the way he came. The room was getting brighter. He glanced through the cage into the main area. Someone who looked like Mitchell was pulling debris off someone else. Why couldn’t he be dead? He’d been exposed when it all went off. Too damn lucky.
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