Primeval (Werewolf Apocalypse Book 2)

by William D. Carl

The diversity of New York, Sandy thought.

  The lions were on their feet, hunching their shoulders low to the ground and opening their wide mouths. They growled at the approaching creatures, then roared so loudly it shook the glass in the subway train.

  Sandy turned back to Beth and Alice and told the coach, “Cover her eyes. Don’t let her watch this.”

  “Going to be a royal rumble,” Craig whispered next to her.

  As Sandy wheeled back to the creatures, the brown Lycanthrope in the lead launched itself at the male lion, latching its jaws onto the huge monster’s neck and shoulder. The lion shrugged the beast off as the red human Lycan leapt at the female lion. The feline raised up on its back paws, lashing out at the smaller red monster with its black claws extended. It swatted the red beast aside, twirled, and landed on all fours, facing its opponent. The red monster slammed into a brick wall, and some of the mortar fell loose, sprinkling brick dust across the battling creatures. As the red one tried to right itself, the female lion slammed it into the floor, its foot-and-a-half-wide paws pinning its adversary to the ground as she lunged at the struggling beast’s throat. With a single yank, the lion tore the red Lycanthrope’s head from its body and gulped it down, the skull cracking between its massive fangs. Blood sprayed from the neck of the beheaded creature.

  Meanwhile, the male lion had swung around to face the brown creature just as the white one slammed into its side, jaws snapping at the exposed ribs. The male reared up on its hind legs, its ears touching the ceiling. The white beast clung to the male’s exposed belly, digging its jaws in deeper as blood spattered its white fur. The brown human Lycan vaulted, springing on its hind legs like a deranged kangaroo. Its lacerating claws were a blur of motion, and it slashed at the lion’s mane. The larger creature fell back to the ground, landing on all fours on top of the white beast, which started scrambling to get out from beneath the behemoth.

  As it reached halfway, its chest emerging from beneath the weight of the lion, the female attacked. She had finished with her prey, and she fell upon the pinned creature, a flurry of claws and teeth. Arterial blood sprayed across the tracks. The female lion chewed swiftly through the body of the white beast, snapping its backbone in half in her massive jaws. The male, in the meantime, had immobilized the brown monster and was contentedly crunching its forelegs in his mouth. He eased himself up on all fours, politely allowing the female to drag her dinner from beneath him.

  All in all, the battle had lasted only about ten seconds, but the brutality of it shocked the survivors observing from the train. Sandy stared, open mouthed as the two lions set about devouring the mangled corpses of the Lycan. The dead creatures changed back into human form, making the scene of their murder and consumption all the more grisly and shocking. It was one thing to watch an animal eat another animal – it was the way of the world. To see a human arm and hand disappear down the tooth-lined gullet of a primeval monster was a whole different situation altogether.

  Craig turned around and vomited into the next seat, his back arched with the effort of expelling his last meal. He was quiet about it, but the smell soon wafted through the subway car, a disgusting acidy stench. When she looked down, Sandy saw that Craig’s last meal must have been a hot dog with all the trimmings, and she nearly threw up herself. Instead, she took a few steps back, walking toward Beth and Alice.

  The teenager was still quiet, although she wept. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she trembled all over every few seconds. Sandy recognized the symptoms and knew the girl was going into shock.

  “We need to keep her warm,” Sandy said, removing her jacket and putting it over Alice’s quivering body.

  “What’s happening out there?” Beth asked, nodding toward the cracking sound of bones and the squelching of meat being torn.

  “You don’t want to look, believe me,” Sandy said. “They’re eating the smaller ones, practically whole.”

  “They were people once, right?” Beth asked. “The new ones. They were just people who have the virus?”

  Sandy nodded. “Yeah, and now they’re human again. They’re turning back even as the lions are eating them. It’s pretty revolting really. Don’t let Alice see it.”

  “I won’t,” Beth said. “We don’t need her flipping out again.”

  “Damn straight,” Craig said, coming up beside them, wiping at his mouth. A small fleck of vomit remained in the corner. “She starts bellowing again, we’ll have to find a way to keep her mouth shut.”

  Howard joined them, said, “No need for threats, right? We’re all in this together.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Craig said, running his hand up and down the metal pole he still clutched, so tightly his knuckles had turned white. “This broad gets crazy again, I’m knocking her out myself.”

  “You’ll have to get through me,” Howard said, pushing out his formidably muscular chest.

  “And me,” Sandy added.

  “Me too,” said Beth.

  “You’re all crazy,” Craig insisted. “If she screams, lets those things out there know where we are, then you’ll be getting in line to shut her up. Deep down, you know it’s true. Survival of the fittest, bitches. We’re programmed to want to stay alive, and if that means knocking out or killing someone else so that you’re still standing at the end, then you’ll do whatever it takes. I mean that, whatever it takes.”

  Sandy cocked her head. “And what if that means taking out someone who threatens the group? Someone whose actions might cause turmoil and anxiety?”

  Craig grinned at her, and she noted his resemblance to a wolf for the first time, something to do with the slant of the eyes, the wicked gleam hidden behind the chubby cheeked smile, something almost feral and foxlike.

  He said, “Well then, maybe that person should be removed from the equation. But he knows he won’t be, because he’s too valuable to the rest of the group.”

  He stepped forward and Alice started to whimper.

  “Maybe we should just remove this little bitch from the equation, like right now.”

  The teenager started to cry then, and the sound was louder than any of their whispers.

  Sandy looked at Beth and pleaded with her eyes; no words were necessary.

  “Shush, sweetie,” Beth said, stroking the girl’s hair. “Be quiet. You need to be quiet for a while longer.”

  “I’m telling you,” Craig said, raising his pole. “I’m gonna shut her up for all our sakes.”

  “Don’t touch her,” Sandy said.

  The girl was making some sort of keening noise now, her voice getting shriller and louder and higher in pitch every second.

  “That’s it,” Craig said, raising his metal pole over Alice’s head. “You’ll thank me later.”

  Alice’s sobbing became louder as Craig threatened her. Sandy figured it was loud enough for something outside the car to actually hear and notice.

  The pole started to descend, heading straight for Alice’s cranium.

  Sandy thought, Oh my God, he’s going to kill her with this one blow.

  There was a clang and Sandy saw Howard had raised his own metal weapon and used it to stop Craig’s from connecting with the girl’s skull. He pushed backwards, but Craig hit his pole with a loud metallic sound that rang through the car. They started sword fighting for a moment.

  CLANG!

  They were awkward with the poles, which were really too long to swing very well in the confined space, but they made a good effort.

  Alice started to scream.

  CLANG!

  Beth tried to calm the girl to no effect.

  Craig shouted, “See? She’s gonna alert them now. Now they know we’re in here!”

  CLANG!

  Craig raised his pole, and it scraped along the ceiling, trailing white sparks. They were heading down the aisle. Craig was larger, and he swung his weapon in long arcs. The air swished as he batted at Howard. The younger man found his dancing experience had finally come in handy, and he deftly avoided Crai
g’s jabs and clashes.

  CLANG! CLANG!

  They started moving back toward the group, bumping against the edges of the aisle seats. Their long bars rang out like bells as they connected with each other. Craig swung his in a wide arc, and Howard ducked out of the way, shoving his metal pole into Craig’s shins and swiping to the left. Craig tumbled, losing his balance. His weapon, still gripped tightly in his hands, shot out to the right, smashing through one of the smaller windows of the subway car. It left a hole an inch in diameter, surrounded by spider-webbing cracks of concentric circles.

  The sound of the glass breaking brought everyone to a silent, sobering standstill. Howard and Craig stared at the breach, their breathing heavy. Beth put her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with the realization of what this small aperture meant to them all. Sandy took a step backwards, away from the hole, nearly treading on Alice, who had finally stopped panicking. She remained in Beth’s arms, silent, her head buried in her coach’s chest.

  Craig whispered, “I didn’t mean to.” He turned to the others and repeated himself, “I didn’t mean to.”

  There was a muffled thumping sound, and Craig collapsed to the floor. Behind him, Sylvia stood, one of Sandy’s forgotten weapons in her gnarled, arthritic hand. She dropped the curved piece of metal, and it clattered to the floor next to Craig. Sandy saw the bloody spot behind Craig’s left ear where the old lady had clobbered him.

  Sylvia croaked, “If anyone needed to be silenced, it was that mensch.”

  “Sylvia…” Sandy started, but she couldn’t find the words.

  The old lady shrugged, fell backwards into a seat. “He was far more dangerous than that little girl. I’m just surprised none of you whacked him before I did. And now look where we are.”

  Her gaze rose to the puncture in the window. The cracking of the glass had blocked out a large portion of their view of the surrounding area. When they looked out at the tracks, at the place where the lions had been feasting on the conquered Lycanthropes, they saw only an abandoned space. The emergency lights were a little dimmer, but they could easily note that the mutants weren’t where they had been. They’d been so absorbed in the drama within the subway car that they had lost sight of where the monsters had gone.

  “Where are they?” Sandy whispered.

  Sylvia glanced down at the unconscious man at her feet and spat. “Asshole.”

  She kicked him once for good measure.

  “Quiet,” Sandy insisted, looking around the car.

  The group shushed until all they could hear was their breathing and an occasional whimper from Alice. Outside the car, the tunnel remained utterly silent.

  Craig moaned, moving his leg. He raised a hand to his head, and everyone turned toward him. The little moan seemed like a shout in the calm stillness.

  Suddenly, the male lion shoved its face into the cobwebbed, cracked glass, pressing its huge nose through the opening. It opened its jaws, widening the hole, and it roared. The sound was terrifying in the confines of the train car, and Alice and Sandy both screamed.

  The glass gave way to the assault of the creature, and it fit its whole head into the car.

  Sandy saw the gleam of furious desire in a single exposed golden eye.

  Chapter 37

  3:03 p.m.

  John Creed looked down at the still water where Michael had disappeared. The surface had grown calm, not a ripple in sight. He shouted Michael’s name several times. Growing desperate, he got down on his knees and peered into the darkness of the pool.

  The room was only about fifteen feet by twenty feet, and there was a tunnel on each opposing side. One opened up on the opposite side of where John knelt. The water seemed very deep, and it was filthy. The reporter saw floating clothes from the eighties and an old tire on the surface. Thankfully, there were no Lycanthropic rats swimming through.

  “Michael?” John whispered, and the sound bounced off the water and the walls, a cacophony of echoes.

  The water seemed to move a bit, the wake of something beneath the surface swimming near the other side. John braced himself for the wet, dripping emergence of God-knew-what kind of creature.

  It neared the surface, bubbles rising.

  John stood, stepped backwards, carefully watching the other side of the pool.

  With a splash, Michael threw himself up on the opposing tunnel’s entrance floor. He hurriedly drew his feet behind him until his entire sopping wet body was a foot away from the water. He was covered in waste and filth, and was gasping for air.

  That’s when John noticed the dark shadow swimming under the water in the room. It was big, at least twelve feet long, shaped almost like a stretched out diamond. It remained submerged, however, and he turned his attention back to his guide on the other side.

  “Michael, are you okay?”

  The homeless man spat the taste of dirty water from his mouth a few times before turning to John and giving him a thumbs-up. The reporter grinned with relief.

  “Where’d you go?” he asked.

  “Lost my bearings underwater,” Michael answered. “Couldn’t find my way out until I figured out which way was up.”

  “I thought I lost you, buddy.”

  Michael sputtered, choking a bit, then said, “There’s something down there. Something huge.”

  John agreed, “Yeah, I saw it, too. You know what it is?”

  The shadow had come back up toward the surface again, as if searching for the quarry that had escaped it a few moments earlier. It never got close enough for John to discern what it was.

  “No, but it isn’t very fast,” he said.

  The two of them watched the shadow disappear as the enormous thing sank to the bottom of the pool. They raised their eyes to each other, and the fifteen-foot pool of water that separated them suddenly appeared much larger, an untraversable chasm.

  “Now what do we do?” Michael asked.

  “Is there any way around this thing?” John replied, eyeballing the deep, dark water. A single bubble rose to the surface and broke. “I mean, could we meet at a juncture someplace else?”

  “Not that I know of. There might be something somewhere, but it can be like a honeycomb down here, and, well, I’d rather not lose you.”

  “Same here,” John said. “We could be the only two humans left alive, and I don’t know anything about the layout of these goddamned tunnels. If I get separated from you, I’d probably end up wandering around down here until something decided I’d make a good lunch.”

  Michael chuckled. “I doubt it would take very long. Well, that only leaves one option.”

  “I don’t like where this is going.”

  “You’ll have to swim over here.”

  “How about you swim to this side and I wait patiently?”

  “Don’t be such a pussy,” Michael said. “This tunnel leads farther away, toward Brooklyn, if I have the signs right. Your side leads back into Manhattan, where all the werewolves are.”

  “You did see the big fucking monster swimming in that water, right? What the hell is it, a shark? Some other mutant?”

  “Oh, I think it’s just an alligator.”

  “Just an alligator?” John stammered. “That sucker’s got to be at least ten or eleven feet long.”

  “More like thirteen or fourteen. Hey, you wanted your ‘alligators in the sewer’ story. There you go.”

  “I didn’t want it quite so big. Or so close up and personal.”

  Michael leaned against a wall, folding his arms in front of himself. Despite the grime that covered him from his swim through the nasty water, he looked calm and in control. John, meanwhile, was sweating like the only hooker at a Shriner’s convention, and his hands were actually starting to shake.

  “I don’t see its shadow,” Michael said, peering over the edge of the pool. “It’s probably at the bottom, resting.”

  “‘Probably’ isn’t going to cut it this time.”

  “How about this – you’ll probably die down here w
ithout me. Come on, John. I made it and I was all discombobulated. If you dive and swim, you’ll cover the distance in no time.”

  “How fast are alligators?” John asked. “I seem to remember something on PBS about them being really fast.”

  “It’s a huge creature stuck in a small space without much room to maneuver. I don’t think you’ll have any problems if you’re quick about it.”

  “I haven’t been swimming since I was a kid.”

  “Just like a bicycle.”

  “Bicycles sink in water.”

  John thought it over for a moment, looking at the room. Barely beneath the water, all the way around the partially submerged room, there was a half-inch border of brick. Above that was a mosaic, which had lost so many tiles the subject was unfathomable. The brickwork looked a little slippery – algae covered parts of it – but it seemed sturdy.

  “I could walk around on this little ledge,” he said, pointing out the protrusion. “Then I wouldn’t have to get in the water.”

  Michael leaned over and tested a piece of the brick. It didn’t budge, but it was slick with a coating of what could be sewage. He shook off his fingers and turned back toward John.

  “It’s slippery.”

  “I really, really don’t want to go in that water.”

  “Then what other choice do we have?”

  John stepped from the tunnel, placing his left sneaker on the little ledge. His foot nearly slid out from under him, but he leaned back against the wall, feeling the mosaic tiles beneath his back. Widening his hands and spreading his legs apart so his feet stuck out pigeon-toed to the sides, he moved onto the shelf.

  A quick glance told him he had to move about ten feet before reaching the first corner, then he had a fifteen-foot stretch along the far wall, then another ten feet after the second corner. In normal times, he could have covered the distance in a matter of seconds. Now, he was ever so slowly inching his way along the first wall. He moved his left leg out, then closed the gap with his right, always keeping the toes pointed outwards to maintain the greatest contact with the inch-wide shelf. He teetered a few times before arriving at the first corner, but he managed to keep his balance.