Primeval (Werewolf Apocalypse Book 2)

by William D. Carl

  “Valium,” she said. “It’ll calm your nerves.”

  After her ward took her pills, Beth took one for herself, swallowing it dry. Sandy nearly asked her for one, but decided to keep her mind unclouded by drugs. She needed to keep her thinking clearheaded.

  “We need some kind of weapon,” she said, looking around the place.

  Sylvia pulled a small knife from her purse and said, “I got a shiv.”

  Howard started to grin and told Craig, “Hey, come help me over here.”

  He stepped over to the metal post that ran from floor to ceiling. Studying it for a moment, he placed his back against the wall, squirming at the way the rats started attacking the metal and glass of the subway car right behind him. Their fury increased with his near proximity. He kicked out at the metal bar, and it groaned a bit. He kicked again, then again.

  “Gonna make me a club,” he said.

  Craig moved to the next post and started emulating the young man. “I got it,” he said, striking the metal with his boot heel.

  Howard’s bar came loose at the top, but several screws still attached it to the floor. He grabbed hold of it and bent it down toward his feet. The metal groaned in protest, but it bowed to his strength. He twisted it a few times, and the bar came loose. It ended up about four feet in length, and the edge where he’d bent it till it broke was sunken inwards and sharp on the end. He wielded it like a massive sword.

  Craig’s bar came loose near the ceiling of the car, nearly snapping in half with the force of his kick. Sandy decided she’d better re-evaluate the big guy. He may have had an extra thirty pounds on him, but he seemed pretty strong.

  The vibrations within the subway car stirred the rats up outside. They squalled and fought each other, scratching at the doors and chewing at the rubber with even more insane single-mindedness. More of their jabbering mouths and snouts pushed through the crack in the doors, and Sandy thought she witnessed them inch open slightly. Swearing, she started pounding on the rats with the iPad again, trying to crush their skulls so that they remained stuck in the crack, another barrier for the masses behind them to chew through.

  Howard used his pole to smack more of the mutants trying to enter their car. Shoving with the sharp end, he ran the pole through one rat’s neck and pulled, jamming it into the gap as his weapon came back red and bloody from the little corpse.

  “Take that, sucker!” he shouted with a grin. He turned to Sandy and said, “Few more like that one, and we got us a rat force field.”

  Something roared in the northern darkness of the tunnel, answered by another howl nearer to the subway. The sound reverberated in the shaft, making it seem even louder than it was.

  With a loud screeching, the rats began to scramble away from the car, tumbling over each other to flee as a horde in the opposite direction from where they’d emerged.

  “What was that?” Alice asked. The girl’s eyes were wide and wobbling, like a cornered animal. Sandy wished her coach had remembered the Valium earlier. Maybe Alice would have been more even-keeled by now.

  “It’s scaring the rats away,” Howard said. “So, it’s nothing good. Guarantee that.”

  Within thirty seconds, the tunnel was clear of the thousands of vermin that had taken flight, seeking refuge from whatever was coming down the tunnel now. The old bag lady’s skeleton lay a few yards from the train, the bones picked clean of any flesh, the eye sockets black and empty.

  The roaring came again out of the pitch blackness farther down the tunnel, louder this time, closer.

  Turning, Sandy tried to peel one of the metal strips off the glass of an advertisement in a frame in the car. She figured she could use the glass in the frame as a sharp weapon. When she tore the strip off, the pane fell to the floor and clinked. Realizing it was merely some form of cheap plastic, she scanned the car for something else that could be formed into a weapon.

  Grinning, Sandy hurried to one of the shiny metal handrests by the orange seats. It was curved with two smaller crescent shaped pieces inside so that passengers had something to grab hold of when entering and exiting the train. She steadied her back and kicked hard at the thing, recalling all those judo lessons Nicole had forced her to take last year.

  The armrest went flying across the car, and Alice cried out in surprise. When Sandy retrieved it, she flipped the curved piece of metal in her hand, a bit bigger, getting a feel for its weight. Then, she smashed the end under her sneaker. She had to stomp on it several times to get a finer edge on it. Now it resembled a boomerang with sharp, nearly knife-like edges on each side. She nodded in satisfaction.

  “My girl’s a badass,” Howard said as he started kicking the other handrests out of place. Craig joined in, and soon they had three more of the homemade weapons.

  They gave one to Sylvia, who tried to refuse, but eventually took it, keeping her “shiv” clutched in her right hand. When Sandy looked closer at it, she saw it was merely a steak knife. One went to Beth, who nodded her thanks. They didn’t even think to offer any weapon to the terrified high-schooler trembling in the coach’s arms. Alice had enough issues without worrying about self-defense.

  Sandy took one in each hand, holding them tight, testing them against an unseen enemy. She could strike up or down, slash sideways – they really were very user-friendly. Howard hefted his pole, pointing the sharp end out toward the crimson-lit tracks and the tunnels beyond them. Craig assumed a similar position, but he looked ridiculous, an overweight, balding man with a bad haircut and a very big stick. Then again, it had worked for Teddy Roosevelt.

  Beth stood, pulled the slightly groggy Alice up with her. Sandy wondered if the girl was going into shock or if the Valium really was working that quickly. If anyone in the group was going to be a liability, it was going to be Alice, and that was too bad. Her athletic skills would have come in very useful.

  The roaring sound emerged from the darkness again, and the little group stood, staring into the gloom of the shadows. Sandy spread her legs, attempted to look tough, wondered how far Nicole was to reaching her. Howard and Craig took point, one on each side of the cluster of people in the dark subway car. Even Sylvia had her blade in one hand and her makeshift weapon from the railing in the other. Her wrinkled face was grim and determined, even if her back was bent with osteoporosis.

  They knew something was out there, and they were ready for whatever it was.

  Then, the lumbering creature stepped slowly into the halo of red light from one of the emergency bulbs, and they all realized just how wrong they’d been.

  Chapter 23

  1:55 p.m.

  Nicole opened the helicopter door, allowing General Burns to step in before her. He grunted as he hiked his bag into the cab of the whirlybird, then grunted again as he hefted himself up. She believed he could stand to lose a few pounds, but she would never say such a thing to his face. Beyond insulting a superior officer, it just wasn’t very nice.

  The machine was a Sikorsky S76A medical helicopter, a beautiful bird. Painted navy blue on the bottom and white on the top half, it sported a red cross near the tail. The blades twirled around the top of it, looking almost lazy in their rotations, but they stirred up the wind and dust, and Nicole had to squint to keep it out of her eyes.

  Reaching for Burns’ proffered hand, she stepped up into the cabin, getting her first good look at the pilot. He was a wrinkled, extremely thin man in his early fifties, his skin tanned to a chestnut color. His hair was clipped into a crew cut, and his long face was craggy with a long, sharp nose and a pointed chin. His toothy grin was infectious.

  “Tom Hemmer,” he said, giving Nicole’s hand a firm shake. His long thin fingers encased hers like the legs of a huge spider. “I’ll be your pilot today. Please fasten your safety belts when the light goes on.”

  “Drop the stewardess shit, Tommy,” Taylor Burns said, unable to stifle his own grin. Nicole wondered if it was because he was seeing his old friend again or if it was because he was heading into an unfamiliar battl
e scenario. This wasn’t like sitting on the sidelines taking out Lycanthropes with snipers. This time he was heading right into the eye of the storm.

  “Never minces words, this one,” Tom Hemmer said, pointing at Burns.

  Nicole took a seat behind the pilot, feeling awkward with her Kevlar brushing up against the jacket full of ammunition and grenades. She had adjusted everything to the best of her ability in the elevator to make the heavy load as comfortable as possible, but when she assumed a sitting position, the weight of it all felt off balance.

  She was surprised to find the helicopter so roomy. There was plenty of space for her feet to stretch out a bit. Behind her, there were seats for two more passengers and a wide open area, where she assumed EMTs could wheel a patient in on a stretcher or gurney. That area was surrounded with lifesaving equipment and shelving units stocked with all sorts of drugs. She wished she could get up and inspect the bottles, see if there were any antibiotics or Lycan vaccines. They may end up needing something. She prayed they didn’t.

  “What exactly are we doing, Hoss?” Hemmer asked. “I barely managed to fly out of Manhattan, and now it’s all sealed off, and there are freaking jets circling the place.”

  “We need you to fly us back in, drop us near 42nd and Broadway, get out safely, and pick us up tonight at a designated area when we call.”

  “Oh, is that all?” the pilot asked, unable to prevent the sarcasm from entering his voice. “I thought it’d be something hard.”

  Burns laughed, and Nicole found herself concerned. When spoken aloud, the plan seemed ludicrous, impossible. They’d never get into the city, let alone back out of it.

  But I have to try, she thought. Sandy needs me, and that woman means everything to me. If I don’t at least try, what kind of love do we have? What kind of person would that make me?

  Burns was talking again, leaning in close to Hemmer. He said, “I’ve been timing the jets. They’re F-15s, and they’re taking about ten minutes to circle the island. I think there are two separate formations, and I’ve seen a couple of Scorpions, too. We need to time it just right, so you can get us across the river and drop us into the combat zone and get back before you’re noticed. You can stay here on the hotel rooftop. I don’t think anyone will be bothering you as long as they don’t see you in the air.”

  There was a rumble, then a vibration in the cabin, and Nicole turned in time to see three F-15 Eagles zip across the smoking horizon. They were gone within seconds, following the path of the river. She saw Burns click the stopwatch on his wrist so it began ticking.

  “We’ll do another timing, wait for the next group to fly by,” he said calmly.

  Hemmer nodded, said, “No problem. If I have ten minutes, it won’t be anything to get you guys in there and back. You wanna just drop in?”

  “You have parachutes, don’t you?” Burns asked.

  “Yep. But you might fare better if I just land on a rooftop and set you loose. There’s an awful lot of fire and explosions going on now over there. Once you’re on the rooftop, you should be able to get to the street. Better than taking a chance of the wind crashing you into a building or your chute catching fire on the way down.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Burns said.

  As they turned their attention to the horizon, waiting for the next jet to pass, Sandy thought back to the early days when she had met Sandy. She admitted she was more than a little rough around the edges. Being in the military always sanded down the feminine edges of the women who do any actual fighting. Her language had gotten rougher, her drinking had grown harder, and she always had her eyes open to an attack – even when there was none forthcoming. When she’d first spotted Sandy, an adorable blond West Coast beach bunny type, in Shirley’s Saloon, she’d had to slug down three more Budweisers before she summoned up the balls to talk to her. Even then, her speech had been of the “Aw shucks, ma’am” variety. She had embarrassed herself, turned red in the face and stammered her words. She never knew why Sandy had followed her to the end of the bar, what the beautiful California girl could have seen in a tough-assed soldier, but Sandy had, indeed, joined her for a few drinks at the end of the bar.

  By this time, Nicole had been a couple of sheets to the wind, but thankfully not completely falling down drunk, as she was known to get on Saturday nights off-base. They had ended up kissing for hours in the parking lot, saying good night before either of them could go any farther. It had been sweet and even a bit romantic, making out under the stars, the radio playing soft country music while the other patrons deserted the bar parking lot, finally leaving them all alone, looking up at the night sky. Just the two of them alone in the universe.

  The next morning, Nicole had received a phone call from the hot blonde she’d met so late the previous night. She didn’t even remember giving out her phone number. They’d gone to dinner that evening. Over Italian food and wine, they’d discovered how much they had in common. They shared a love for action movies, whiskey sours, rainy days, crossword puzzles, and a secret fondness for trashy historical romance novels. The conversation flowed easily, and Sandy had been intrigued by Nicole’s position in the Lycan Snipers. Most women she’d told about her job were repelled by the fact that she was so good with a rifle, but this one was different. They had been together ever since.

  There was an old joke that went “What does a lesbian bring to a second date? A U-Haul.” In this case, the old standard wasn’t far from the mark. They had moved in together after seeing each other almost every night for a week. It was sudden, moving faster than Nicole was comfortable with, but it also felt very right. She had another self, one that didn’t usually present itself to people, but it was different with Sandy. Her love had shown Nicole what it was like to be human, to be feminine, to be the softer side of the rough-and-tumble soldier. When she went on a mission, that aspect of her disappeared, iced over with a layer of hardness she needed to do her job and get on with the men in her unit. Without Sandy, she knew she would lose that aspect of herself completely, and now that she’d discovered it was there, hidden under her surface, she didn’t want to part with it. It was a wonderful discovery. It was all because of Sandy, and she couldn’t lose this woman, couldn’t drop that other part of her inner self. Not when she’d come so far.

  Three F-15s zoomed by in a V-shaped formation, their guns silent this time. Burns clicked his stopwatch.

  “Nine minutes and forty-five seconds,” he announced. “That enough time?”

  “Plenty,” answered Tom Hemmer. “Soon as they go by again, I’ll fly you guys over, land on the nearest building in midtown that’s still standing.”

  Nicole glanced over at the Manhattan skyline again and shivered. Now, fires were burning through the streets and explosions rang out every minute or two. She thought she saw the Empire State Building wavering, as if its foundation was destroyed and it was going to topple over at any moment. Thick plumes of smoke billowed into the sky, obscuring her view farther into the island.

  She looked back down at her cell phone and brought up the last text Sandy had sent to her. HURRY.

  “I’m coming, baby,” she whispered. “Hang on. I’m coming for you.”

  Chapter 24

  2:00 p.m.

  During the trek through the subway tunnels, John Creed kept hearing muffled explosions coming from above his and Michael Keene’s heads. They had decided to make for the surface so that they were no longer trapped with the Lycanthropic mutants underground in the dark, but the more sounds he heard – and felt in the case of some of the explosions, which rattled his guts – the less sure he was about their destination. What if it was even worse on the streets of New York? What if this disaster had spread throughout the almost two million people living in Manhattan alone?

  Shaking off the thoughts, he knew he would have to see for himself. It was the reporter part of his brain, usually soaked in bourbon and suffused in cigarette smoke, which required confirmation of the facts. Those noises could be something else entirel
y, sonic booms, construction, unusually heavy traffic patterns.

  He knew he was kidding himself. When they finally made it to the surface, he knew it was going to be bad. Still, he had to know for sure. If he didn’t at least check the situation out, he’d have to live with the doubt when they retreated back to the tunnels.

  Aboveground with those things, or below the streets with those things. He honestly didn’t know which position was preferable.

  “How much farther?” he asked, keeping his voice low. They hadn’t heard any of the animalistic noises in the corridors for a while, but it wouldn’t do to chance drawing something’s subterranean attention.

  “Just ahead,” answered Michael. “See those rungs? That should lead to a manhole on Broadway.”

  They stopped at the ladder and peered up at the circle above. There were holes in the manhole, and sunlight streamed from them, exposing Van Gogh swirls of dust motes.

  John glanced at Michael; saw how dirty the man was. His hair was matted from stepping through so much water, and his skin was splotched with grime and filth. The reporter sighed, certain he looked equally nasty. Usually, he would care about seeming so disgusting. He was fastidious about his appearance, always had been. He had subscribed to GQ and Details magazines when he was thirteen to know all the trends. However, with what he had been through so far this afternoon, he figured it didn’t matter what he looked like. There would always be an operating shower at the end of the journey.

  “You wanna go first?” Michael asked, watching the twirling dust in the slashing rays of sunlight.

  “Yeah,” John said, although he really wasn’t certain he wanted to see what was up there. “Sure.”

  He climbed the rungs until he reached the manhole cover. It was heavy, but he managed to push it up enough with his shoulder so he could peek out of the opening.