The Frenzy Wolves

by Gregory Lamberson

  “What the hell is going on now?” Jim said.

  “I’m trying to find out,” Mace said.

  On his computer screen, video footage of Gomez standing naked and talking to the camera appeared beneath the words Piggy Squeals.

  “There it is,” Norton said.

  On MMN, Sandra Piazza, one of Cheryl’s former colleagues, appeared distraught. “We’ve just received an unconfirmed report that Manhattan Minute News’s own Carl Rice has been killed.”

  On the computer, Gomez continued to talk.

  “Why the hell are we learning this on YouTube?” Jim said.

  “This footage just premiered on YouTube and another network,” Sandra said. The YouTube footage replaced her, with Gomez’s penis blurred.

  “I don’t even know what we’re looking at yet,” Mace said to Jim. But he had a bad feeling that his suspicions were correct.

  On YouTube, Gomez transformed into a Wolf in one continuous handheld shot, and Rice dropped the camera.

  “Radio Candice and Grant,” Mace said to Landry.

  On the TV, Gomez turned into a werewolf in living color.

  “Jesus Christ,” Norton said.

  On YouTube, the camera lay on the floor, aimed at the leg of a sofa, which went in and out of focus. A crash reverberated over Mace’s speakers, followed by screams and wild animal snarls. The screams stopped, and the tearing began.

  “Oh, Lord,” Mace said.

  The camera lost focus as someone picked it up and swung it around the apartment. A wide shot revealed a red wall, red furniture, and a red lump on the floor.

  “Is that him?” Norton said.

  On the TV, Rice started screaming again.

  “I need to know exactly what’s going on,” Jim said.

  “I’ll let you know when I know,” Mace said and hung up.

  Telephones rang all over the squad room, and clerks answered them.

  “Let’s go,” Mace said to Norton. “Do your best, Ken. Try to get ahold of Karol and tell her she’s got to call me.”

  Mace and Norton ran out of the squad room.

  Thirty

  Candice and Grant ran into the foyer of Carl’s building. Candice tried the inside door while Grant pushed buzzer door buttons. Candice held her Glock by the barrel and used it to smash a pane of glass in the door. She reached through the new space and opened the door. They sprinted inside.

  “What floor is it?” Grant said.

  “Four.”

  They ran up the stairs. By the time they reached the fourth floor, Candice felt winded. When they found Carl’s door, Candice put on a pair of latex gloves. Then she drew her Glock, and Grant did the same. They looked at each other and nodded.

  Candice tried the doorknob, which turned. She threw the door open and entered, holding her gun in both hands. “Police,” she said.

  Silence greeted them.

  Candice moved along a dingy hallway to the living area. Turning left, she gasped. Blood spatters decorated the walls. Flesh and blood dripped from a table knocked on its side, and a shape lay on the floor beside it. It took a moment for her to realize it was a human body that lacked a head or arms. One arm lay on the sofa, its fingers frozen in a claw.

  Watching her step, she made her way toward the bedroom door. Halfway there, she spotted Carl’s head, its eyes and mouth open, resting upright on the computer keyboard. So much blood covered the face that it did not look real.

  Candice opened the bedroom door and swept the small room with her gun. When she stepped out of the bedroom, she faced the wall. A circle, almost a foot and a half wide, had been painted on it in blood. “Check the bathroom,” she said.

  Grant kicked the bathroom door open and went inside. A moment later, he reappeared.

  “The roof,” she said.

  They rushed out of the apartment and up the final flight of stairs to the rooftop exit. Candice pushed the panic bar, and the door swung open. Skyscrapers and clouds filled her vision.

  A low barrier separated the roof from that of the building next door. She hurried over to it, stepped onto the next roof, and ran across it with Grant at her heels. A chasm three feet wide separated the roof from the next one. She took the jump, and the toe of her right foot caught on a cable. Fearing she would plummet five stories to her death, she pointed her toes and brought her heel to her buttocks, freeing her foot. She landed on the roof, and pain shot through her ankle. She then limped over to the edge and gazed at the next roof, fifteen feet below.

  “He got away,” Grant said.

  Mace sped uptown on Broadway, his siren wailing and lights flashing. His phone rang in its docking bay, and he saw the task force’s phone number. “Put it on speaker.”

  Norton picked up the phone, set it on speaker, and put it back.

  “Go ahead, Ken,” Mace said.

  “Rice is DOA. From Candice’s description, it had to have been Gomez.”

  “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “That video’s gone viral. The local stations interrupted Lindberg’s televised briefing to show it. This is escalating fast.”

  A beep came over the speaker.

  “I have to go, Ken.”

  Norton picked up the phone, pressed its screen, and set the phone down again.

  “This is Mace.”

  “It’s Colleen. Is it true?”

  “I have no comment at this time,” he said in a flat voice.

  “Please, Tony.” Her voice cracked. “I need to know.”

  “I’m sorry.” He nodded to Norton, who hung up.

  The phone rang again.

  “It’s Mint,” Norton said.

  Mace snatched the phone from its bay. “What is it?”

  “When I call, you answer.”

  “I’m driving to the crime scene at fifty miles an hour. Do you want me to hit a pedestrian because I’m talking to you at the same time? I’ll call you when I have something to report.” He set the phone down.

  Norton’s phone rang. “My turn,” she said.

  When they arrived ten minutes later, two patrol cars had arrived on scene, and a third was double-parking. Mace had to park halfway down the block, and they hurried to the building.

  “No press,” Mace said to the PO stationed outside. “No one enters who doesn’t have a key.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  They entered the building and took the stairs two at a time.

  “Containment at this point is unrealistic,” Norton said. “I wonder how Lindberg’s press briefing went.”

  Mace didn’t answer her. On the fourth floor they slowed down and caught their breath as they walked to the apartment guarded by a PO. They put on rubber shoe covers and latex gloves in silence, then entered and followed a long hallway to where Grant shot photos of Carl’s head in the far corner and Candice shot photos of the wall to Mace’s left.

  “Watch your step,” Candice said.

  Mace stared at the remains of Carl’s corpse. All the blood made it hard to tell where the shredded clothing ended and the shredded flesh began. He stood beside Candice and looked at the circle painted in blood on the wall.

  “It’s like the Manhattan Werewolf all over again,” Candice said. “What do you think it means?”

  “It’s the moon,” Mace said. “He’s signing his work.”

  Norton crossed the room. “How long was Rice up here before Landry called you?”

  “An hour, tops,” Grant said.

  Norton stared at Carl’s head. She reached down and tapped the mouse next to the keyboard, and the monitor’s screen lit up. Norton leaned over the head to get a better look at the screen. “This is the home page for Rice’s YouTube channel. The footage was uploaded almost an hour ago. Only his subscribers could see it at first. It’s been downloaded sixty-four times, and now it’s public.” She scrolled down the page. “He previously uploaded the footage from the community center, but that’s set to private.”

  Mace stepped around the bloodshed to join her. A camera lay on t
he floor, an arm on the sofa. “Carl must have been logged in. All Gomez had to do was insert the memory card, wait for the video to load, and set it to public.”

  “He went upstairs to the roof and escaped that way,” Candice said. “Maybe he got dressed while he waited for the video to load.”

  “He didn’t have to wait long,” Norton said. “This is a Mac Pro.”

  Mace’s phone rang. Jesus, Jim, let me do my job. “Hello?”

  “Oh, my God, is it true?” Cheryl said.

  Mace crossed the room to the hallway. “I can’t say anything right now. Everything will be okay.”

  “I want you home.”

  “I can’t do that, but I’ll make sure a second car is sent over to watch you. I don’t want you to worry.”

  “If you don’t come home, you’d better kill him. Do you understand? Kill him.”

  Jim walked through the door.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” Mace said.

  “Well?” Jim said.

  Mace gestured inside the apartment. “Come see for yourself.”

  Jim stared at him for a moment, then entered the living area, where Candice, Norton, and Grant stood.

  “Jesus H,” Jim said in a weak voice. “How could you let this happen?”

  Mace grabbed him by the back of his arm and turned him away from the living area. “What do you mean? You’ve had us working three different major cases with a skeleton crew, on top of the one everyone thinks we’re working on. We’re undermanned and overworked so you and Hollander can play things close to the vest. We’re so busy crisis managing the media we don’t have time to be real cops. I had Grant and Candice bring Rice in for questioning at 10:00 am like you wanted. During that time, no one was available to watch the building because they had to see where he went when he left our squad room.”

  “You had him in your office three hours before he was killed? This is going to be a nightmare.”

  “What kind of a nightmare? A public relations nightmare? Rice is dead. He’s out of the picture, right?”

  Jim ran a hand over his face. “No one’s going to buy any spoon-fed cover stories. This is never going away.”

  “Maybe it’s time we stopped trying to cover this up and acted like cops. Forget about the Dominis. Forget about Michalakis. The only one who matters right now is Gomez, and we have to catch or kill him. Be clear: no one on this task force is going to pay for the bad decisions you and Hollander and whoever else have made so far. If this comes down on anyone, it comes down on you.”

  Jim turned away. “I have to call Hollander.”

  Hector and Suzie appeared in the doorway. They allowed Jim to exit, then entered.

  Mace called Landry. “I need another car parked outside my house and increased patrols around the block. Make sure uniform in Bay Ridge has his shotgun ready.”

  “You got it,” Landry said. “The phones are ringing off the hook.”

  “Did you get ahold of Karol?”

  “Negative.”

  Maybe Karol had already made a run for it, Mace reasoned.

  “Jesus Christ,” Hector said, looking at the gore in the apartment. “It’s déjà voodoo all over again.”

  Thirty-One

  In the kitchen of her Canadian cabin, Angela Domini washed dishes by hand and toweled them dry. Gareth and Damien, Gabriel’s twins, played with a handheld video game in the open living room. She loved her six-year-old nephews and had enjoyed spending time with them in close quarters despite the circumstances.

  Melissa, their mother, joined her at the sink. “Let me do that.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Angela said. “You and the boys are my guests.”

  “You’ve already done enough for us. Besides, it will take my mind off things.”

  Angela doubted that, but she smiled. “All right.”

  Melissa took over the chore, and Angela was about to check on the boys when the front door opened and Arick entered.

  “They’re here,” Arick said.

  Angela grabbed her coat and hurried to the front door.

  “They’re here!” Damien said to Gareth.

  “So?” Gareth said. “Keep playing.”

  Standing on the front porch in the chilly air, Angela watched a compact car and an SUV growing closer.

  “There can’t be many of them,” Melissa said behind her.

  The vehicles parked near the cabin. The door on the driver’s side of the SUV opened, and Micah jumped out. Arick ran over to him and gave him a hug. The other doors of both vehicles opened, and passengers climbed out and stretched. Angela recognized Minjun Kim and his wife, and she assumed the young Asian woman with them was their daughter. Angela hadn’t seen her in five years, and it surprised her how much she had grown. All of them wore grim expressions. Angela knew it wasn’t easy to give up a lifetime of connections and memories and move away.

  Cecilia Perez got out of the car. So did her husband and son, who looked two years older than Gareth and Damien. Another Hispanic woman got out too. In her midthirties, she wore glasses and had long curly black hair.

  Melissa greeted each of the newcomers. She had a way with people, which made her a perfect wife for Gabriel.

  Micah came over to the porch. “Thanks for taking us in, Angie.”

  “I didn’t have much choice, did I? You’re welcome. Did you have any trouble at the border?”

  “No, we came when Ricardo was on duty, just like Gabriel said. I had his cell number, so we just coasted through using our fake passports.”

  “How is Gabriel?”

  Micah shrugged. “Worried.”

  “And Raphael?”

  “Trouble through and through. Elias Michalakis has his hooks deep into him.”

  “Raphael isn’t weak-minded; he’s just impulsive. He would never be anyone’s puppet. He and Michalakis must have more in common than you think.” Angela raised her voice. “Come inside, everyone. Melissa and I have cooked you a big lunch. Then Arick will take you to your cabins, and you can get settled in.”

  The refugees filed onto the porch, nodding and smiling at Angela.

  “I’m Millie,” the Dominican said to Angela, then hugged her. “Thank you.”

  Not long ago, they had all treated her like a pariah. Angela had been excommunicated from the pack for having sexual relations with John Stalk. “You’re welcome,” she said.

  The refugees went inside, and Micah waited on the porch.

  “How many more are coming?” Angela said.

  “Fifteen,” Micah said.

  “That makes twenty-three, plus the five of us already here. There are six cabins. We’ll manage for now. When will Gabriel arrive?”

  “I don’t know. He’s got to make sure every loose thread is tied, and that’s a tall order with everything that’s happening.”

  Angela knew that Gabriel would not leave the United States without Raphael. At least, she hoped that was the case.

  In his Williamsburg, Brooklyn, safe house, Gabriel sat on the sofa watching the news. The doorbell rang, and he cast a suspicious glance in the door’s direction. Then he got up and crossed the room and peered through the peephole. Karol Williams stood outside. Wrinkling his brows, he opened the door and let her inside. “What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t worry. I wasn’t followed.”

  He closed and locked the door. “How do you know?”

  “Because I was lost to begin with. Nobody knew where I was except for your brother and his goon squad. They snatched me off the street.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me, but they drugged me. I still feel terrible.”

  “What did they want?”

  “They wanted to make me talk. And I did. There didn’t seem to be any point in keeping our plans from them.”

  Gabriel led her into the living room. “Did you see the news about Rice?”

  Karol froze in the threshold. “No, Raphael threw my phone away. I’m completely in the dark.
”

  “Gomez killed him in his apartment. He made Rice videotape him transforming, then he uploaded the footage to YouTube. All the stations have played it.”

  “Shit.” Karol took off her shoes and crossed the polished wooden floor in her stocking feet. She sat next to Gabriel on the sofa.

  “It’s out there now. Everyone knows about us.”

  She touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  “This is the danger when a berserker is on the prowl. They’re like rabid dogs, striking out with no regard for the pack or species.”

  Karol looked around. “Where is everyone?”

  “Gone.” Gabriel sat back and crossed his legs. “George and Bennett left for Canada with their families. Micah should be there now. The council members are all on the road. Everyone who was in that meeting has been sent away to start a new life.”

  “Then why the hell haven’t you gone too?”

  He looked her in the eye. “Why haven’t you?”

  “Rhonda’s missing. I have to find her.”

  “The drug dealers killed in the Bronx?”

  She nodded.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You had enough on your plate already, and I thought it was better for everyone if Gomez took the fall for them. But you’ve got nothing left to stay here for. Your family’s already with your sister. You belong with them.”

  Gabriel raised one finger. “Not my entire family.”

  “Forget about Raphael. There’s no reasoning with him. He’s not worth the trouble.”

  A faint smile formed on Gabriel’s lips. “He’s my brother. I have to try. But he’s not my primary concern right now.” He stood. “Come with me.”

  Gabriel led her upstairs into an office, where he crouched and dialed the combination on a safe in one corner. He swung the heavy safe door open, revealing stacks of money.

  “How much is that?” Karol said.

  “Just under four million dollars,” Gabriel said. “Our investments, our retirement money. I’ve been liquidating it over the last few weeks. I’ve given each of our people who fled forty thousand dollars. It isn’t a fortune, but it’s enough to start over, and many of the refugees won’t stay in Canada, which is probably a good thing.”