by Amy Cross
Lucas and Chaucer were in Chaucer's private room at the temporary command tent that had been set up on the edge of the estate. Chaucer was preparing to address his soldiers, to congratulate them for a job well done.
"I did the job I was ordered to do," he said, trying to hide the pride in his voice. "I must say, some men would be offended by the fact that so many people are surprised I was successful".
"Oh, it's no dig at you, Chaucer," said Lucas. "It's just that these werewolves were tricky buggers, weren't they? I think GCHQ were pretty sure that they couldn't be killed at all".
"It merely required application," said Chaucer. "A determined will and an iron refusal to give up. With those two qualities, a man can go far".
"Quite right," said Lucas. "And you deserve a hell of a holiday after this".
"A holiday?" Chaucer said, shocked. "Are you mad? I don't want a holiday. I want to keep pushing on with phase two of Operation Lupine Howl".
"Phase two?" Lucas asked.
"I've submitted plans," he said, his voice filled with urgency. "We are to proceed to London and take our forces down below the city. We are to clear that vermin-infested pit known as the Underworld. We must kill every stinking creature down there, completely sanitise the place and then... and then we can decide how best to use it to our own advantage".
"You want to invade the Underworld?" Lucas said. "That's a new one. I've never heard anyone suggest that before. Do you really think it can be done?"
"I killed the werewolves, didn't I?" Chaucer said. "They said that couldn't be done. So -"
"But we've no idea," Lucas said, interrupting him, "what the Underworld is like. We've never even managed to get a scout out of there alive. We've only got stories and rumours, and even those aren't exactly pretty".
"So what?" Chaucer said. "We send enough men and guns down there, we can kill anything we find".
"But -"
"Anything!" Chaucer roared. "We showed it today! We beat the werewolves, we can damn well beat anything we find in the Underworld!"
Lucas nodded. "I suppose you're right, but let's think about it for a few days, eh? No point rushing. After all, the Underworld has been in place far longer than either of us have been around".
"Still," Chaucer said. "It would be good to strike while we have the advantage".
"Well," Lucas replied, "it's not me you have to convince, is it? It's GCHQ back in London".
"I'll speak to them," Chaucer said. "I'll have them eating out of my hand when they realise that I've delivered the complete extermination of the werewolf species. The Underworld is a threat. If we don't attack them, they'll attack us. God knows what kind of evil creatures are down there, plotting away. We must strike when they least expect it, and we must be nothing short of ruthless in our pursuit of those vile monsters".
"Perhaps," said Lucas. "And what about this Duncan chap?"
"Duncan?" Chaucer said, turning to him.
"Well, we've heard so much about him," said Lucas. "Can we be sure he's dead?"
"I saw him die myself," Chaucer said. "I saw him being vaporised".
Lucas nodded. "Excellent work. And the Wolf King?"
"The same," said Chaucer. "I saw him die. I saw the fear in their eyes as they realised that there was nothing they could do to stop us from prevailing". He turned to the small window and look out. "It's over," he said, surveying the burnt, ravaged land before him.
"We have won," said General Chaucer, grinning as Captain Lucas stood a little way behind him. "The stain of the werewolf menace has been wiped from this land forever. We have achieved what previous generations were unable to do". He looked at the soldiers. There were only twenty or so of them left, but they were among the best that the army had to offer. It was obvious, from their exhausted expressions and their cuts and bruises, that they had been through one hell of a war. But that war was over now, and Chaucer was determined to rouse his troops one final time. "You are all heroes. Each and every one of you. I know that Captain Lucas here agrees with me -"
"Very much so," said Lucas.
"And I will see to it," Chaucer said, "that each and every one of you gets the reward that you deserve". He took a deep breath. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, it was almost impossible to believe that it had finally arrived. "Victory," he said. "That is what we have achieved today. Total victory. The werewolves have lost. The humans have won. God bless us". He felt his spirit soaring. He had led his men to battle, and they had been victorious against the enemy beasts. "To victory!" he shouted, raising a fist to the sky. "To a world without werewolves!"
Silence.
Chaucer stared up at his fist, waiting for his soldiers to join in his celebration. Finally, he looked down at the faces of his men. "What is this?" he asked. "Are you sad about the poor little werewolves?"
Silence. The soldiers just stared at him.
"To a world without werewolves!" he shouted again.
Silence.
He turned to Captain Lucas, who shrugged.
Turning back to the soldiers, Chaucer found himself - for once - almost completely lost for words. "If we cannot celebrate this day," he continued eventually, "then what day can we celebrate? If we committed genocide today, it was necessary genocide. Their species died so that our can live. Doesn't that mean something to you?"
Silence.
"This is only the beginning," Chaucer continued. "From here, we push on to take the Underworld. We force our way into that subterranean cauldron of... evil and mutation, and we cleanse it. Just as today we cleansed this place. And when we are done, humanity will be the dominant species on this planet, and the werewolves will be what they should always have been: just a tired old fairytale that no-one believes any more".
Silence. No a murmur from the crowd.
"You're tired," Chaucer said, somewhat disconcerted by the failure of his men to join in with the celebration. "We lost some of our own men today, and that is an awful thing. An awful, awful thing. They must be commemorated, and they will never be forgotten. But they died fighting for humanity, and they would be cheering with me right now if only they were still alive. So we must not dwell on their loss, but instead celebrate the victory that they gave their lives to help us achieve".
Silence.
Chaucer stared at his men. Battle-hardened though they were, they should at least be able to help him celebrate this hugely important victory.
He turned to Captain Lucas. "What's wrong with them?"
Lucas shrugged again. "Maybe they're... not comfortable with celebrating the death of an entire species?"
Chaucer sighed. "Bunch of liberals. Too busy pretending to care, when they should be celebrating their hard-fought victory". He turned back to the soldiers. "There's no need to pretend. I know that you fought a hard battle today, and I know that you must all understand the value of what happened here. So please, let your true feelings out. Don't hide behind a perception of honour. This is the time to relax and show your pride at having fought such a strong and valiant war. Show me that you understand the importance of this day".
There was a cough from behind him. Chaucer turned to find Captain Lucas stepping to the front of the stage. "You heard the man," he said, with a hint of a smile. "Show him what you're really thinking".
Chaucer turned back to look at his men, and then something truly shocking happened. Something that Chaucer couldn't understand at first, something that took everything he knew - everything he thought he knew - and turned it on its head. He stepped back, unable to process what he was seeing. One by one, his entire unit of commandos was turning into werewolves.
"Blimey," said Captain Lucas, grinning. He turned to Chaucer. "That's got to be a shock, eh? Bet you weren't expecting that".
Chaucer looked at the pack of wolves that now stood where his army had been. Their eyes filled with animal passion, they beasts stared back at him. They were clearly ravenous, ready to rip his body apart and feast on his blood. It was a fearsome sight, but the crea
tures seemed to be holding back, as if they were waiting to be given the order to attack. Still, they were clearly poised, ready to leap towards Chaucer at any moment.
"Anyway," said Captain Lucas, sounding particularly pleased with himself. "This isn't the time to dwell on the past. Let's look to the future".
Chaucer turned to Lucas. "Are you part of this?" he asked, shocked. "Are you in league with these creatures?"
Lucas smiled. "I doubt very much that the real Captain Lucas had any affinity for werewolves. He was probably just like you. Cold, full of anger and hatred, determined to crush an entire species. In fact, if he were here, he'd probably have been just as happy as you were at the thought of all those werewolves dying". He paused for a moment. "But he's not here, is he? Because when he arrived on the estate, I managed to track him down and do horrible things to his guards, and then I managed to get him back to the Great Hall just before your commandos surrounded the place. And then your men stormed the building".
"They killed the werewolves," Chaucer stuttered. "I saw them drag the wolves out and vaporise them".
"No," said Lucas. "You saw your commandos go into the building, and you saw a bunch of people in your commandos' uniforms come out of the building. And you just assumed that everything was in order, when in reality you'd just been tricked by the old werewolf switcheroo".
"I saw Duncan die!" Chaucer shouts. He was sure that this had to be some kind of cruel trick, that there was no way he could have been fooled. Werewolves weren't smart. He knew that. They were vermin, to be crushed by the superior humans. So how... "I saw him die!" Chaucer said again.
"No," said Lucas. "You saw Captain Lucas die. I was very careful to crush his jaw so that he couldn't tell you who he really was when he was dragged out in front of you. I knew you'd never actually seen Captain Lucas in the flesh before, so I knew I could pass for him, at least for long enough to get you out here. And since you'd never seen Duncan in the flesh, and since the commandos assured you that the man they had captured was Duncan, you were happy to believe that you'd won. Even as you gave the order for the man you thought was Duncan, but was actually Captain Lucas, to be vaporised". Lucas stepped towards Chaucer and leaned in close, his face up against the other man's. "Hi," he said.
Chaucer stared back in shock at the face before him. Could it be true? His entire unit of commandos had been swapped for a group of werewolves, and Captain Lucas - the man sent up from London to oversee the final phase of Operation Lupine Howl - had been swapped with...
"Duncan," Chaucer said slowly.
"I've heard a lot about you," said Duncan. "Sorry I had to pretend to be someone else when we first met, but you know how these things go. Sometimes you have to be a little devious". He turned to the wolves. "Okay, ladies and gentlemen". He stepped away from Chaucer. "Get him".
8.
Sometimes it's not enough to kill someone. Sure, you could rip out their throat, crush their spine, or eat their heart. But that's not going to satisfy you. No, you really need to make them suffer first. Torture them, even. You need to have them squirming before you. You need to give them a moment of false hope, and then you need to take it away, to crush their soul, and then give them hope again, and just keep on doing that until there's nothing more that they can do but break down and beg for death. And even then, perhaps it's not enough. Perhaps you have to keep going. I don't know exactly at what point it becomes enough to simply finish them off.
This is my first time. I'm a wolf now. I don't even remember my old human name...
When Chaucer runs, we head after him. Not as fast as we could, but fast enough. I get a general sense that the pack is holding back. We could kill him in seconds, but we're going to make him suffer, the way he made us suffer. We're going to make him confront his own imminent death, the way that we confronted out own imminent death. But whereas we found a way to survive, we're going to make sure that he dies.
I have to admit that Patrick came through for us. It might have taken him until the last moment to come up with a plan, but he managed it. When the commandos swarmed into the Great Hall, everything seemed hopeless. But we fought. We fought and we won. Some of us died. Robin was one of the ones who died. But Duncan survived. So did Hamish. So did I. And so did about fifteen others. The last werewolves. Even the wolf cub, the one who Darla saved, managed to survive. And once we'd killed the humans, we quickly changed into their military costumes. Then we carried out the dead humans, and we vaporised them. Chaucer assumed we were his human soldiers. We let him believe that. And then finally we carried out Captain Lucas, who Duncan had managed to capture earlier while he was supposedly "checking the perimeter". Duncan had already smashed Lucas's face so that he couldn't talk. He couldn't warn Chaucer. So we told Chaucer that this was Duncan, and Chaucer believed it, and then we vaporised Lucas. By the end, Chaucer thought he'd killed all the werewolves. But really he'd just watched us vaporising all his own soldiers. And then we waited, while Duncan put on Lucas's clothes and pretended to be the human soldier. Chaucer was fooled. Completely fooled.
And now we're hunting Chaucer. He runs, but we stay close to him. And finally he reaches the command tent from which he has been directing this genocide. We surround the tent. This is where he must die. It's somewhat appropriate. Darla would have loved the irony. Darla would have loved the chase.
I poke my face through the door, and see Chaucer fiddling with a small box. At first I can't make out what he's doing, but then I see that he has a syringe. I watch as he injects himself, then I realise that if he's trying to kill himself, I have to stop him. I race into the tent and leap at him, but he swings out and knocks me to the ground. I'm stunned for a moment, shocked that a human could be so strong. And as I get to my feet, and as other wolves come into the tent, I see Chaucer injecting himself again. Then he drops a small glass bottle onto the floor, and he turns to face us.
"You've misunderstood everything," he says, disturbingly calm and with an air of unexpected confidence. "I didn't really want to rid the world of werewolves. I just wanted to rid it of your particular strain of werewolves. And then..." He pauses, as if he's in pain. "You've forced me to speed things up a little, but that's okay. I can deal with that. I think. Maybe you can't. And things might be better this way. At least you'll get to see what's coming next. You'll get to see the next werewolf species". He doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach, then he drops to his knees.
We all keep back, not sure what to do. And slowly, we watch as Chaucer changes. When one of us switches from our human to wolf form, it's a quick process. But Chaucer is changing in an altogether more unusual way, as if his entire body is convulsing. Soon, though, he's no longer human, and where Chaucer stood there's now a large, vicious-looking wolf, snarling at us all. He looks bigger and stronger than the rest of us, and he has large, prominent veins that are visible through his fur. He looks like some kind of nightmare wolf, an over-pumped beast filled with steroids and mutated DNA.
Suddenly he leaps forward, grabbing another wolf in his jaws and throwing that wolf across the tent. Before anyone can react, Chaucer runs out of the tent. We follow, and find Chaucer outside. He's still in his wolf form, but he's risen up and is standing on his rear legs. He turns to face us, and we all stop, unsure of what to do. I look over at Duncan, hoping that he'll know what to do, but I can see the shock on his face. All the wolves seem to be holding back, trying to work out what to do now that we're facing what appears to be some kind of mutant. And then, just as I'm starting to wonder what we can do, Chaucer turns and runs.
None of us follow.
The others start shifting into their human forms, but I stay as a wolf.
"What was that?" one of the others asks.
"I have no idea," says Duncan. "But we have to kill it".
"That wasn't a werewolf," says Hamish. "That was something else completely".
Duncan turns to me. "Jess," he says. "I need to talk to you".
I stare at him, and it takes me a moment to re
alise that Jess is my name. For the first time, I've been completely absorbed in being a wolf. The adrenalin running through my body is pushing my human nature aside. But slowly, I realise that I have to shift out of this form, so I do.
"What?" I ask.
"I need you to go and wait for us," he says.
I stare at him. "Are you serious?"
"Very," he replies. "This isn't the kind of thing that you can help with. This requires... some degree of experience".
"I'm coming to help you get this creature," I say.
He shakes his head. "You'd just get in the way".
"Come on," Hamish says, interrupting. "We have to catch up to him".
They switch to their wolf forms and immediately race off after Chaucer. I turn to see that the wolf cub is the only one who has stayed behind. Damn it, am I supposed to just leave him alone? I look over to see Duncan and the other wolves disappearing rapidly over the horizon, hunting down Chaucer. Every inch of me wants to go with them, to help them. I feel so... human, being trapped back here. It's as if Duncan doesn't trust me, or he doesn't believe that I can do anything to help.
"Come on," I say to the cub, leading him back towards the tent.
"Freeze!" shouts a figure nearby. I turn to see a man in military uniform holding a gun straight towards me. He's so scared, he's shaking, and sweat is running down his face. "Don't move," he shouts. "Don't fucking move!"
I stare at him. With that gun, he could probably knock me out. And if the vaporising machines are nearby, he could do a lot more.
"Don't," I say. "Put the gun down".
"What was that thing?" he shouts at me.