The Original's Return (Book 2): The Original's Retribution

by David Watkins

  He held her there, relishing the warmth of her mouth. She hit him harder and harder. He yanked her up and slapped her hard enough to knock her back to the bed. Before she could move, he was on her, pushing her legs apart. She started to yell at him, but he didn't stop-

  -fight a little, I like that-

  -he pushed himself into her and the only sound in the room was the slapping of his thighs and her sobs. He slapped her twice, growling “shut up” in a voice not quite his own.

  -what the fuck am I doing?-

  Bryant jumped off the bed, staring at Jenny with horror. She crawled away, pulling the covers up over her body, sobs still wracking her, shoulders heaving with each anguished cry.

  “Jenny,” he said, “I'm sorry. I don't know what happened.”

  “You bastard,” she said. Her hand disappeared under the sheets and came back bloody.

  “Oh god,” he said.

  “I liked you, Jamie. You didn't need to do this.” She wiped the blood on the sheets. The stain caught his eye wherever he looked.

  -oh yes, smell that, it’s fresh-

  “Jenny, I think you should leave,” he said. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears, feel his heart beat faster.

  “It’s my house!” she yelled. “You leave!”

  “This isn't me,” he said, “I can't control this.” He was breathing hard, then, “Please.”

  She looked at him with bright blue eyes. Even through the tears, she was beautiful. What have I done? He didn't know what she saw, but without another word, she grabbed her clothes from the floor and left the room. As soon as she was gone, he leapt on the bed and started licking the blood, smearing it around his mouth.

  I've gone crazy.

  A noise made him stop. It was a door slamming. He ran to the window, licking his lips. Jenny was marching to the car, gravel crunching under her feet. Joe and Henry were close behind. The wheels spun, kicking stones up, and then they were gone.

  Swearing, he turned away from the window and caught sight of himself in a full-length mirror on the wardrobe. Blood was smeared all around his mouth, his hair was bedraggled and his eyes were yellow. He stepped to the mirror to have a closer look, and his eyes faded to their normal brown. He blinked and they alternated brown and yellow. He shook his head and they stayed brown.

  This is not good.

  “I need help,” he said to the empty house.

  2

  Bryant stood outside the front door of the house. He had dressed and was now holding a hot mug of tea in one hand and the house phone in the other. It was warm, despite the early hour. The quiet was almost eerie and he felt another pang of remorse at what had happened with Jenny.

  What have I become?

  The questions kept going round and round in his head. This life, when he had first read Stadler’s file, had seemed the right choice. The way Stadler had learnt to control the Wolf. It had all seemed so easy. Now he was a mass murderer and a rapist. This was not going the way he had intended.

  Better than the alternative.

  Maybe. The thought wasn't his: he was getting better at knowing the Wolf.

  Without me, you'd be dead.

  Bryant dialled a number quickly and raised the phone to his ear before he could change his mind. It rang several times, and then a familiar voice answered.

  “Don't hang up,” Bryant said.

  3

  Knowles had just emerged from the shower when his phone rang. His skin was still tingling from the shower gel and he hoped to God someone had allowed Jack to shower. He picked it up just as it stopped ringing. It said ‘Unknown’ under missed calls. Having dried quickly, then dressed, he was about to leave the room when his phone rang again.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Don't hang up,” a familiar voice said.

  “Bryant? Jesus, what are you doing?

  “Where are you, Knowles?”

  “You know where I am,” Knowles snorted. “I'm about to go and visit your mate, you know, the one whose leg you bit off.”

  “Not that you'll believe me, but that wasn't me and the one who did it is dead.”

  “You're right, I don't believe you and I don't care. You need to come in.”

  “Why? So you can lock me up and study me? Cut me up like you planned to do to Stadler?”

  “That was not my plan.”

  “I don't care, Knowles, it ain't happening to me.”

  “We will find you, Bryant.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “Come in, Bryant,” Knowles said. “We can help you.”

  “I was dying, Knowles. Did you know that?”

  Knowles said nothing. His heart was beating hard in his chest.

  “That skeleton was my only chance. Cancer. I had a few months left, according to the doctors. Strange though, I felt fine. Then I started coughing up blood every morning and knew I had to do something. I don't want to die, Knowles.”

  “So instead you've become a killing machine?”

  “No.” Bryant’s voice was deeper now. Jack used to do that. When he was strapped to a chair in Huntleigh, after being shot enough times to stop an elephant. The Wolf, making itself heard.

  “It’s quite a body count you've got so far, Bryant. You ok with that? Everyone dies so you can live? Seems pretty shitty to me.”

  “I want to talk to Stadler. He with you?”

  “No, Bryant. It’s first thing in the morning. I don't sleep with the guy.”

  “I’ll call back in thirty minutes. I want to speak to him. Your phone. Keep it on.”

  Knowles opened his mouth to say more, but Bryant was gone.

  4

  Bryant roared in frustration and threw the phone to the ground. It bounced and skittered across the floor. He could hear the Wolf at the back of his mind, laughing at him. Stadler. How had he – a civilian – managed to control this? Bryant thought of his own mental toughness. Alone in the desert, waiting for high-level targets to cross his sights. Killing insurgents and wiping out families. All of that was nothing compared to the grip of the Wolf.

  Whatever I do, it’s there.

  You can't get rid of me.

  No, but I can control you.

  Why do you want to? You love it. Deep down, you love it.

  No.

  Yes.

  Bryant flung his mug at the wall and it shattered. Splinters from the mug hit his face, drawing blood and adding to his frustration. He looked around the floor and picked up the phone. Twenty minutes until he could ring Knowles back. Twenty minutes to keep the Wolf at bay. Bryant put the phone on the wall next to him and then started to run. He ran around the house, going faster and faster until he was moving almost at a blur. Round and round, faster and faster until the Wolf burst out of him. He kept running in Wolf form, enjoying the feel of the wind on his fur. Enjoying the smell of the birds in the trees. The smell of the grass all around him and the flowers in full bloom.

  He stopped by the front door and stood as he changed.

  You love it.

  He did, he really did.

  5

  “Why is he doing this?” Jack asked. It was not, in Knowles' opinion, a bad question.

  “Maybe he’s had a change of heart, wants to come in,” Raymond said.

  “I told him to give himself up,” Knowles said.

  “We're set up in here,” Raymond said. “Your team ready?”

  Knowles nodded. Four men, heavily armed and covered in Kevlar were sitting in a Lynx helicopter outside the building. Next to it sat an Apache helicopter, smaller, sleeker but loaded with weapons. As soon as the call was traced they would be in the air. Jack had been impressed with how quickly this had all come together.

  “How long do I have to keep him talking?” Jack asked.

  Both Raymond and Knowles looked surprised. “Christ, Jack, it'll be traced before you get the phone. It takes less than thirty seconds,” Knowles said.

  Holy shit. “Oh, ok,” was all Jack could come out with.

 
; The phone rang, and Jack jumped.

  “Bryant,” Knowles said. He listened for a moment, then said, “He’s right here.” He handed the phone over, and Jack took it. A computer screen behind him showed a circle getting smaller. Tunbridge Wells sat on the circumference of the circle.

  “Go,” Raymond mouthed. Knowles ran for the door. Raymond nodded at Jack.

  Jack raised the phone, hoping his hand was not visibly shaking. He felt sick to his stomach; sweat was forming on his brow.

  “Hello,” Jack said. Bryant started to speak, but Jack roared. He felt his face change, his mouth elongating. He tried to speak, but it was too late.

  The Wolf was coming.

  6

  Bryant heard something as Knowles said “He’s right here.” Something in the background that he would have missed a week ago. Something under the surface noise, something he was not supposed to hear.

  “Hello?”

  Go. Someone had said go.

  7

  Raymond watched with horror as Jack’s head changed into a wolf. “Everybody out, now!” he screamed. The soldiers on the computers turned at the sound.

  Jack dropped the phone and fell to all fours. His clothes started to rip, thick black fur pushing its way through the tears.

  “I have the location, sir!” One of the men shouted.

  “Send it to Knowles, now, then get out,” Raymond barked. Two of the soldiers were already rushing to the door, pushing each other in the hurry to get away. Raymond turned back to Jack and his breath caught in his throat. A huge wolf - no, Wolf, the reports were right - stood where Stadler had been. It looked right at him, drool pouring out of its enormous jaws.

  “I've sent it sir,” the remaining soldier said. The Wolf’s head snapped to him. Yellow eyes narrowed as it looked at him.

  “No sudden moves, Singer,” Raymond said. The Wolf turned back to him. It opened its terrifying mouth and howled.

  “RUN!” Raymond yelled. Singer jumped up and ran for the door, a distance of fewer than five metres. The Wolf started to move and Raymond stood in front of it.

  “No,” he said. Raymond was used to being obeyed. From Officer Training through to the poppy fields of Afghanistan, even in the shithole that was Helmand, when he spoke, people listened. More than that, they obeyed.

  The Wolf roared.

  8

  Knowles looked at his team with trepidation. Sure, everyone knew what they were dealing with now. It wasn't like Smith and his team. Kevlar covered the men, and helmets with full visors protected their heads.

  It’s not enough.

  Each man carried an SA80 with grenade launcher attachment. They also had four hand grenades each, and enough ammunition to kill everyone in Tunbridge Wells several times over. Knowles glanced at the pilot, whose eyes flicked around the instrumentation. GPS showed them seconds away from the house. It also showed the large urban area of Tunbridge Wells.

  A lot of people live there.

  Knowles smiled at his team. All had been in Afghanistan. All had seen combat prior to today. They were, in Raymond’s words, 'good men'.

  Just like my old team.

  “Thirty seconds, sergeant,” the pilot said. Knowles nodded.

  Everyone in my old team is dead.

  A voice he didn't recognise came on the radio. He was shouting and screaming something about a wolf. Knowles felt his blood go cold. He was not taking chances anymore. Back at the base, everyone could be dead already. Jack has lost it.

  “Change of plan,” he said to the pilot. “New orders. Blow the house up.”

  9

  Raymond stared at the Wolf. Fear was crippling him. He had been in tight spots before, faced potential death before, but this made those situations laughable.

  The Wolf was much, much bigger than him. It dominated the room that seconds before had been a hive of activity. Singer had made it to the door, yanking it open and fleeing into the morning air. Now, with any luck, soldiers would be running towards him, ready to help their CO out.

  My life is in the hands of other people. The thought did not calm him. He had not survived Afghanistan by handing his fate to others. Trust them, yes, but never complete control. When he had stepped in front of the Wolf, he had thought that it would be his last act. Now, the Wolf was watching him and he dared not move. He racked his brains about the things Knowles had said. Jack could control the Wolf, he had definitely said that.

  He wasn't in control then, on the phone.

  Raymond wished that part of his mind would shut up. The seconds stretched into a minute and still the Wolf watched him.

  We could be here all day.

  “Jack,” he said. Raymond always thought he had a good 'command' voice. A deep timbre, firm yet warm, a voice full of trust. One he could use on Radio 4 when he made it further up the chain. Now, though, under the Wolf’s baleful glare, his command voice deserted him and library voice took over. The Wolf cocked his head, reminding Raymond of a dog he had had as a boy. The gesture was almost comical.

  Almost.

  “Jack,” he tried again, and this time a little of his command voice made it through. He drew his service revolver but the weight of it in his hands did little to calm him. The weapon was tiny compared to the Wolf and he knew it would have little impact on it. Raymond raised the weapon and was pleased to see his hands weren’t shaking.

  “Stand down, Jack.”

  He knew it was ridiculous: did Stadler even know what ‘stand down’ meant? The Wolf was snarling at him, but not moving. Shoot it, now, before it decides you are on the menu. Raymond took a deep breath.

  The fur on the Wolf started to recede, running back into shortening limbs. The animal was shrinking too until Jack stood naked in front of him. He was panting and a light sheen of sweat could be seen on his brow.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  It wasn't nearly enough.

  10

  Rage ripped through Bryant, but it wasn’t solely hearing Stadler’s voice. Something else too, something about the way he spoke. Bryant had never felt anything like it: the sound was like nails on a blackboard and it had sent shivers down his spine. He felt the Wolf take hold and he roared down the mouthpiece. His face changed first, and then the change ripped through his body. The borrowed clothes he was wearing fell to the floor in tatters and the phone clattered to the floor. It jumped around the room, knocking the expensive table over despite its weight. It started to rip up the chairs, but then stopped, a long strand of leather hanging from its mouth. The Wolf padded through the house and out onto the porch where it sniffed the air.

  Adrenaline pumped through its veins as it realised, from the dark pit of its mind, what the noise meant. The Wolf took flight, sprinting for the boundary of the gardens. It vaulted the fence, clearing it easily and kept running for the trees.

  It could hear the helicopters coming. The pop pop pop as missiles launched. It was long gone before the first one hit.

  11

  Hellfire rockets streaked away from the Apache, screaming towards the house. Knowles was impressed by the mansion, sitting in the middle of its own grounds and looking like something the Bronte sisters might have dreamt up.

  It’s not going to look that impressive for very much longer.

  The house exploded as the missiles smashed into it. Clouds of dust and rubble shot into the air. Glass shattered in every window in the house and the west wing collapsed instantly.

  “Again,” Knowles ordered. More hellfires instantly spat towards the house, this time smacking into the east wing. This, too, collapsed under the fire, sending more detritus into the air. The devastation was complete and the house, so impressive a moment ago, was now a pile of rubble.

  “Put us down,” Knowles said.

  Moments later, he was surrounded by his team as they walked slowly towards the ruined building. As soon as they were clear, the helicopter took off again and joined the Apache in circling the airspace above the house. The team did a full circuit of the house, scanning the
building and the tree line as they went. Unsurprisingly, nothing moved: even the birds had gone.

  “We need a full team here,” one of the men said. Knowles had to agree: searching through this rubble would take hours, if not days.

  “Do you think they were here?” the man asked.

  “Can't see how they escaped if they weren't,” Knowles said, with a shrug. “It’s been less than five minutes since the phone call put them here. I don't think even the Originals are that fast.”

  The team were beginning to relax now that they knew nothing was going to jump out at them.

  “We need to find Bryant’s body, ASAP,” Knowles said, “before he can regenerate or whatever it is they do. Call it in.”

  12

  The Wolf returned to the edge of the woods once the explosions stopped, panting hard. It surveyed the ruined house from a distance, keeping low in the undergrowth. The Lynx helicopter had landed and soldiers stood around the ruin. It recognised the formation, had once stood like that itself, a million lifetimes ago.

  The man barking orders was familiar. Of course he was. The way he stood, the way he carried himself. The Wolf felt anger burn through it, coursing through its veins like the heroin it had tried when the diagnosis came through.

  Knowles.

  Disappointment was an alien feeling for the Wolf: a distinctly human emotion. Nevertheless, that was what it felt now. Knowles was in charge here, that much was obvious. He had ordered the destruction of the house, signed the death warrant of anyone inside.

  It was sheer luck that they weren't all dead now. Of course, Knowles would be expecting him to be alive, expect him to heal. But what of the others? Jenny. The twins.

  Snarling, the Wolf stood up. Could it charge them? How many would it kill before they shot it enough to trap it? A twig snapped behind it and it whirled around, ready to pounce. Anger had distracted it long enough for someone to get close, but that someone would regret it.

  Another wolf stood watching it, with two others flanking it. The wolf started to stand up, fur running back until Jenny stood before it.

  “Don't,” she said. “Come with us, meet the others.”