Pack Animals t-7

by Peter Anghelides

  A look passed between him and the old guy. He’d seen the blood now, too. The slightest motion of Owen’s head informed the other man. Daniel’s eyes started to fill with tears. ‘I’ll stay with her,’ he told Owen. ‘Until…’ He swallowed the rest of the sentence. ‘Until the ambulance men arrive,’ he said to Shona, and smoothed the hair from her eyes with a liver-spotted hand. ‘Don’t you worry about a thing.’ He turned aside to Owen and hissed: ‘What happened to the brute who started all this? Where is that scumbag?’

  Owen’s face showed his bafflement.

  Daniel was struggling to stay calm for Shona’s sake. He jerked his head towards the body of a large woman that was spread-eagled across two broken seats. ‘Took a knife to her and then ran off down the bus…’ The rest of Daniel’s muttered diatribe was lost on Owen, who was studying the tear marks around the fat woman’s neck. That ragged edge wasn’t like a knife wound. Could she have sustained it in the crash?

  A young lad in a university scarf, green and red and white, struggled noisily with the rear emergency door. No, that red was more blood on a Cardiff scarf, wasn’t it? The door sprang open, and he started to help people over and out.

  Owen gave a hand to a couple of shocked teenage boys. One of their friends was scraping around in the debris and trying to pick things up off the broken seats. ‘Leave them, Alwyn!’ called one of his mates.

  ‘They’re ultra-rare!’ bleated Alwyn. ‘I can’t leave my MonstaQuest cards in all this!’

  Owen eased him away by the elbow. ‘Even so, it’s more important that you leave.’ He plucked a couple of the cards out of Alwyn’s fingers to make his point, and scrunched them into his own jacket pocket. The lad grumbled, but allowed himself to be hauled to safety by the other teenagers.

  Owen rolled his eyes in despair, and looked at where the rest of Alwyn’s cards had dropped against the cracked window. In the middle of the scattered pile was a mobile phone, open and flashing. He stretched across and retrieved it, picking bits of glass from the silver fascia. The photo display showed a smiling young woman, labelled ‘Jenny’. He could hear a voice on the line. ‘Hello, who’s there?’ it asked.

  Bloody hell, thought Owen what are the odds? ‘Tosh! Tosh, is that you?’

  She sounded just as surprised. ‘Owen! Did you call this number, or did she call you?’

  She? That would be Jenny. ‘Just found this phone,’ he explained.

  ‘Is it Jenny?’ Shona asked weakly from beside him.

  ‘No, it’s someone I know,’ he said gently. And then into the phone again: ‘Having a bit of a busy day here, Tosh.’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘I’m just in the middle of an RTA, outside the…’ He trailed off as the sounds of a dead line filled his ear. The call had been interrupted, and there was no connection. Time enough later to call Toshiko back.

  Most of the walking wounded had evacuated. Those who remained were the trapped and the dead. A thin voice called from the length of the bus: ‘Please help me!’

  A middle-aged Chinese guy was bent over a woman. Her long, light-brown hair spilled over the cheap upholstery of a ripped-out seat. Her eyes stared sightlessly. Owen held the man’s shoulders and gently pulled him away. He saw that the Chinese guy’s right foot was cocked unnaturally over to the left, with a gash through his faded jeans. A serious leg injury could be fatal, and if the femoral artery in the man’s thigh was compromised then he might bleed to death within the next ten minutes. Owen clumsily removed the guy’s belt and looped it around the injured leg. ‘God, what happened here?’

  The Chinese guy grimaced as the tourniquet bit. ‘Some kid in a Halloween mask went berserk with a knife. Killed the driver. The bus ran out of control.’ He gritted his teeth, and his eyes showed his fear. ‘Is it a terrorist attack?’

  ‘A knife?’ Owen checked the driver, dead in his cab. The man’s arm, shoulder and throat were all torn to shreds. Again, not the clean edges from a knife, or from metal and glass laceration.

  The Chinese guy lashed out awkwardly with his good leg. His foot connected with a leather-clad figure that had fallen into the seat beside him. The figure stirred and groaned.

  ‘Hey hey hey!’ shouted Owen. ‘Knock it off!’

  ‘He’s the terrorist,’ spat the Chinese guy.

  That’s no terrorist, realised Owen as the figure reared up. It’s a Weevil. And it’s really badly pissed off.

  The Weevil threw back its head and howled. The Chinese guy shrank back, but had nowhere to go. The Weevil’s scored face hissed and spat at him.

  Owen slapped the Weevil in the face. ‘Come and have a go,’ he said, ‘if you think you’re hard enough.’

  Christ, he thought as the creature snapped its head round to face him, you’d better be right about this, Harper. Since his resurrection, Owen had discovered that his very presence seemed to cow the creatures into submission. But did this one know he was King of the Weevils? Or was he about to become Snack of the Weevils?

  The creature’s sunken eyes glittered at him. It growled softly, and lowered its head.

  Owen blinked slowly. ‘Good boy.’

  A brace of emergency vehicles screeched up outside the bus. The area was abruptly bathed in their strobing blue lights, and the bus echoed with the piercing wail of their sirens. Spooked, the Weevil leaped from cover and fled through the bus doors.

  Owen struggled around to find his gun in the back of his belt. With so little feeling in his hands, he had to double-check anything that he reached for when it was out of sight. He cursed. Couldn’t feel for a pulse, couldn’t feel for a gun, what bloody good was he?

  By the time he’d scrambled after the Weevil, it had already battered its way past the crowds gathered outside. He watched helplessly as it vanished into a side alley. By the time he got down, the creature would be back in its sewer home eating shitcakes.

  Owen slammed the side of the bus in frustration, and got a satisfying clang with the butt of his gun. He registered the shock on the paramedics’ faces, and reholstered it. He sat heavily on the side of the overturned bus and swore again. A flapping shape in Wendleby’s window behind him caught his attention, fitfully illuminated by the flashes from the emergency vehicles. If his heart had still been beating, it would have leaped into his mouth. The shape was just the MonstaQuest display poster. But the big cartoon artwork on the poster bore an alarming resemblance to the Weevil.

  Owen reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved the couple of crumpled MonstaQuest cards he’d snatched from Alwyn. From each of the oversized playing cards, stylised pictures of Weevils leered back at Owen. Just like the one who’d escaped down the alleyway. They seemed to mock him. King of the Weevils, indeed.

  The orange indicator board in the dragon’s jaws seemed to have decided its status at last: ‘Out of Service’. That reminded him about his interrupted call with Toshiko. He tapped near his earlobe, and called in to speak to her.

  What the hell…?

  ‘Achenbrite apologise for the interruption in service,’ said a calm voice.’ ‘Please stand by.’

  NINE

  ‘Tosh? Toshiko!’

  Gwen was starting to wish she’d listened more closely to the Torchwood health and safety briefing. At the time it had seemed too remote from real life, literally incredible. Police training had taught her the ABCs of basic first aid – A for Airway, B for Breathing, C for Circulation. The Torchwood equivalent seemed to go through the entire first half of the alphabet, and it started ‘A for Alien, B for Bioform’. She’d sort of switched off by the time Ianto had reached ‘I for Inseminoid’.

  Here she was now, faced with an injured colleague, on the freezing rooftop of a shopping mall. Better to go with her police training. She was just about to roll her friend into the recovery position when Toshiko – thank God – seemed to revive.

  ‘Steady, don’t get up too fast.’

  ‘Banged my head,’ Toshiko groaned at her. ‘How did you know where to find me?’

 
‘What, apart from following a trail of blood and body parts, you mean?’ Gwen held up her PDA. ‘When I couldn’t raise you on comms, I got a trace on your GPS coordinates. You were very insistent that we all get the hang of this.’

  Toshiko gingerly levered herself up on her elbows and smiled. ‘You’re my favourite pupil.’

  ‘Took a little while to get right,’ Gwen admitted. ‘Bit of interference. I may have tuned it to Red Dragon FM at first.’

  ‘Interference? Of course! Are they still here? The men in uniform.’ Toshiko sat up suddenly, trying to look around. The effort made her giddy.

  ‘It’s all right, Tosh. All the security staff have evacuated. Those that are still alive,’ she added darkly.

  ‘Different uniforms.’

  ‘Well, there’s only us here now. Rhys is down in the mall. Spitting feathers, of course, ’cause I wouldn’t let him up here. I left him talking to Andy Davidson.’

  ‘PC Andy,’ said Toshiko. ‘Cardiff’s finest. Ouch!’

  ‘Steady.’ Gwen supported Toshiko into a proper sitting position, and examined the back of her head. ‘Better get you back to the Hub, Tosh. Don’t know how long you were unconscious. Need to get Dr Harper to look at that.’

  Toshiko was getting agitated again. ‘And Owen, too! We were talking on mobiles, and the line was disconnected by… the same people who were up here! Achenbrite, that was the name. I saw it on their uniforms.’

  Gwen reluctantly allowed Toshiko to stand. ‘Do you a deal. You can research Achenbrite. But you do it back at the Hub, and get this seen to.’

  Toshiko gripped Gwen’s arm. ‘I need to show you something first.’

  The fire alarm died just as they re-entered the building. Gwen sent general manager Maddock on his way back downstairs for some fresh air, which left her and Toshiko to examine the security room unaccompanied and unhindered.

  She hadn’t seen this much blood in one place since the space whale at that makeshift slaughterhouse. Only this was human blood and remains. She wasn’t sure whether to feel ashamed that this made it so much worse. Easier to imagine these men with families, she supposed. Someone would have to tell their kids, or their neighbours, or their lovers. Thank God it wasn’t her who had to do that any more.

  ‘I saw the creature that did this,’ Toshiko explained shakily. She picked her way carefully through the room, showing Gwen the incontrovertible evidence of scratches and splinters. ‘A bat the size of a dog.’

  ‘Like the thing I saw in the loading bay!’ breathed Gwen.

  Toshiko nodded carefully. ‘It had a bullet wound in one wing. This was the same creature that killed your Weevils.’

  ‘How did it get up here, then? Surely it would have just flown off. Not come back into the mall.’

  Toshiko indicated the breakage around the door jamb. ‘It didn’t break in. It fought its way out. This door has a cipher-lock on it. But those poor victims would hardly let that creature in and then lock themselves inside with it, would they?’ Gwen saw the realisation dawn on Toshiko’s face. ‘Hey, remember how it vanished?’ Toshiko manipulated the control desk, carefully avoiding the spattered blood. The central monitor switched to a view of the loading bay.

  ‘No!’ Gwen found it hard to believe, but the evidence seemed to fit. ‘It came through the CCTV?’ She studied the flickering image of the loading bay. She brushed at some shreds of plant that were partially obscuring the monitor screen. And was surprised to find they were attached to it. Growing in the cracked plastic casing. ‘Look at this.’

  Toshiko took an evidence bag from her pocket, and plucked some of the plant from where it was growing. ‘There’s no daylight in here. Not much natural light in the whole mall, that’s why the greenery is all fake. So how’s this growing in here?’ The variegated leaf had also established itself between the carpet tiles. She pulled up one tile, and found the roots went into a crack in the screed concrete floor. ‘This isn’t your typical office plant.’

  ‘And it’s dying. See? The leaves are browning. Not watered enough, eh?’ Gwen shook herself. What was the matter with her? She was standing by the bloody remnants of two men, and talking about plant care. ‘This whole thing’s going to take a lot of explaining,’ she concluded.

  ‘I know,’ agreed Toshiko. ‘And there’s still those dead Weevils in the basement.’

  ‘We’re stretched too thin,’ snapped Gwen. ‘Just five of us. Torchwood doesn’t have enough people.’

  ‘What would ever be enough?’ Toshiko prised a further plant sample from the base of the control desk, a double-headed bud that had not yet opened. ‘Well, this’ll be one of those things that needs covering up afterwards. Destroy the data trail in a week or so, once we know what the authorities think they’ve found. And if they can’t work out what they’ve got, then there’s nothing for us to cover up. Whoa!’

  Toshiko staggered a little. She had risen too quickly from her crouched position.

  ‘OK,’ Gwen told her briskly. ‘You need to get back to the Hub. Don’t drive, get a cab. Use the account.’

  Toshiko sighed. ‘A secret organisation with a taxi account.’

  Gwen grinned. ‘Another Ianto innovation. It’s in the name of Dr John Smith. Some in-joke of Jack’s, apparently.’

  ‘Bloody Andy Davidson!’ Rhys the Rant was in full flow as they ascended the escalator. It was stationary, so they huffed up the big steps together. ‘I’ve a good mind to cancel his invitation!’

  ‘He hasn’t replied yet,’ Gwen tutted. ‘Don’t suppose you thought to ask him.’

  ‘You’re joking me.’

  ‘What’s he done now?’

  This was all the excuse Rhys needed to go off on one. ‘I was kidding about with him that I hadn’t got the right change for the car park ticket. And he was banging on about how I’d get a sixty quid fine. And I was… Oh, what are you laughing at?’

  Gwen had her fist in her mouth to stifle her giggles. ‘He’s having you on, love.’ She shifted nearer and kissed him on the forehead. ‘Right, was it this floor?’

  Rhys hopped off the end of the escalator and crooked his arm for her to join him. ‘We should shop more often when it’s like this, eh?’

  ‘That’s ’cause the police have cleared the place. See how they’ve turned off the up escalators? Gets people out faster.’

  Rhys looked around the deserted top floor. ‘It’s a bit spooky with no one here.’

  ‘You sound like Andy.’

  ‘Don’t start,’ he laughed. ‘OK, I remember these Halloween decorations. There, in the far corner: Leonard’s Toys and Games.’

  The lights were still on inside the shop, bright behind the pumpkins and gravestones in the window. Its metal shutter was almost down, with just a metre gap at the bottom. The pair of them stooped beneath it.

  ‘Oh my God!’ Gwen’s shock turned into relieved laughter. She’d seen the tall figure by the tills, like an over-tall Weevil. In the split second before she’d realised it was a dressed-up shop dummy, her gun was in her hand and pointed unwaveringly at its head. She holstered it again, noting that Rhys’s face registered something between shock and admiration.

  The empty shop had a locker-room smell, as though a football team had recently vacated it. A forlorn-looking papier-mâché diorama, painted and laid out like a battlefield, filled a section at the rear. Several carved figures had tumbled, discarded or forgotten, next to a couple of dice that had more than six sides. A handful of dog-eared MonstaQuest cards were strewn on the far side of the table.

  Gwen rotated the blister packs that hung on wire racks by the till. She definitely recognised a couple of miniature Weevils and a Hoix – though the packaging called them ‘Toothsome’ and ‘Maymer’. The other models were new to her, including one with two heads like snarling, spitting snakes. Another had a long tail and neck, with a horn in the middle of its forehead that made her think it looked like an angry diplodocus.

  ‘We’re closed,’ snapped a thin voice. It belonged to an equally thin man
, who stood up from behind the till counter, almost as though he’d been hiding there. The shopkeeper’s dark hair spiralled wildly about his head. His abrupt appearance made Gwen jump involuntarily, which seemed to amuse him. He turned to face Rhys, and a look of recognition spread slowly across his face.

  The shopkeeper’s mouth twisted into what might have been a smile or a grimace. The tiny teeth and a wide expanse of gum made him resemble some kind of pasty boxer. ‘Hullo,’ he said, ‘have you come back for your change, then?’

  ‘Oh, aye,’ Rhys laughed. ‘Left in a bit of a hurry.’ He offered his hand.

  The shopkeeper started to fumble in his till.

  ‘No,’ laughed Rhys. ‘I was introducing myself, proper like. I’m Rhys, and this is Gwen.’

  ‘Dillon.’ The shopkeeper shook his hand, and sheepishly gave him another gummy smile. He ignored Gwen. ‘I remember. Gave me a tenner, for the MonstaQuest pack. Then hoofed it when the alarm went off. S’why I always take the money before I hand anything over.’

  Rhys jerked his thumb in the direction of the main mall. ‘You didn’t evacuate with everyone else, then?’

  ‘So many false alarms these days,’ said Dillon dismissively. ‘But I might as well close up the place now. Sales have been rubbish. But this – busiest trading day of the week? It might put me out of business.’

  Rhys looked surprised. ‘You said this MonstaQuest thing was really popular. Thought you must be coining it there, mate.’

  ‘Not me. Gareth’s the one making all the money on this. I’m just a niche supplier.’ He pronounced it to rhyme with ‘hitch’, and spat the word like it was a curse.

  ‘This is what we came to talk to you about,’ interrupted Gwen impatiently. She pushed a ‘Toothsome’ blister pack across the counter.