by Ian Redman
“Thy kingdom come, thine will be done…”
“FIIIIIIIIIIIIRE!” The wolf leapt, dodging the flying tracer, biting savagely into another man’s skull, ripping away bone and tissue. More screams, more panic, more blood!
“On earth as it is in heaven…” the wolf’s hideous, growling, blood drenched form sped past the terrified boy. Another guard fell, ripped limb from limb, his screams tormenting everyone around him. “Give us this day, our daily bread…”
“USE YOUR FUCKING KNIVES! STICK IT, STICK IT!” The beast attacked again and again, the men lunging with their knives, their faces bloodied, their eyes wide with terror!
“Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…”
“HEEEEEEEEEEEELP” The guards fell in pools of blood, the wolf ripping them to pieces, like lambs to the slaughter.
“Lead us not into temptation,” the boy, now curled up like a foetus, closed his eyes, “but deliver us from evil,” he sobbed.
“COME ON THEN YOU BASTARD, TAKE ME! TAKE ME!” The burly man stood facing the wolf, now standing on its hind legs, its tail vertical, dominant, its tongue hanging loosely from its gore ridden jaws. Despairingly the burly man looked around, noticing his men were all dead, all except the cowering, urine soaked whimpering young lad! “YES, YOU’VE SAVED ME UNTIL THE LAST, HAVEN’T YOU?” His knife was ready! He was ready…for the final fight! “YOU FILTHY, MANGY PIECE OF SHIT!”
“For thine is the kingdom…”
The wolf snarled at its enemy, its blood red eyes glowing deep with savage intensity. YOU, it thought, you would lead them to me, to capture me!
“WELL! WHAT ARE YOU FUCKING WAITING FOR? C’MON! C’MON!”
With unnatural, malevolent fury the beast roared hate, the skin around its powerful jaws peeling back showing its flesh ridden, blood stained canine teeth. The burly guard froze in terror as the animal slowly walked towards him, its claws ready to rip, tear and eviscerate.
“The power, and the glory…”
The burly man lunged at the wolf, slicing into its neck as the beast struck out, slashing a claw across his face, dislocating his jaw. Screaming in agony, falling to the ground like a rag doll, he began crawling backwards as the wolf prepared for the kill.
“For ever and ever…”
The burly man couldn’t scream any more. Fitfully, he turned onto his stomach, panting heavily, gasping for breath as he started to crawl, somewhere, anywhere, just to get away from the nightmare behind him. Still walking upright, the wolf drew closer, its heavy snorting breath harsh to the man’s ears as its shadow crossed over his body. Then he felt it, the large, clawed hand gripping the back of his neck, and the ground, swiftly jolting away. The beast’s grip tightened, its red eyes scanning its prey, then, as the burly man’s bowels emptied the wolf roared defiance into his face, its razor sharp canines just inches away.
The beast bit hard, ripping open the prey’s face, shattering his skull, the burly man’s blood flowing onto the ground as his writhing, twitching body fell limp. As if sensing overwhelming victory, the wolf’s grip tightened around the butchered corpse as it howled into the ghostly night sky. Then, with a hideous, dreadful roar, the wolf threw its enemy’s broken, blood soaked form into the surrounding, darkened treeline.
“Amen.” The boy continued to whimper as the forest fell silent. There were no more screams, no more roars, no more howls. He kept his eyes tightly shut, his urine soaked, stinking figure still curled like a foetus, not daring to look at the nightmarish creature walking slowly towards him.
“NO ASH, DON’T KILL HIM, YOU’VE DONE ENOUGH, LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Nick Lucas was nauseated, his feelings on fire. Never, in all his life had he witnessed anything so brutally horrific.
“CALM DOWN NICK,” shouted Colonel Mann, “remember what we’ve told you! This isn’t the Ash you know, it’s a werewolf, an intelligent creature fighting for its own survival.”
“Colonel,” Jeanette Descard interrupted, “he’s hazing again, look…LOOK!” CEATA’s Senior Command team all gazed in amazement at the satellite-transmitted images in front of them. “He’s in control,” whispered the Colonel, looking quickly at Commander Hertschell, “Maurice…he’s in control!”
CEATA’s Commander in Chief nodded his head in acceptance of the Colonel’s observation. “Send the retrieval team in,” he said quietly.
The whimpering, pathetic, fear-filled youngster lay motionless, curled up on the blood-drenched ground. “Please Lord, I don’t want to die, please…” he whispered, then he screamed, “PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEASE!”
“You’re not going to die!” The voice was deep and powerful, a man’s voice. The young lad opened his tear stained eyes. There, in front of him, stood a naked man with blood red eyes, his body, gore soaked. The lad rolled over and vomited. “What are you?” he whimpered, shaking uncontrollably.
“Never mind what I am,” replied the naked man, “you’re coming with me.” The boy is terrified out of his wits thought Piper, but he’ll come out of it back at SHAPE Headquarters, where we can question him. Slowly, deliberately, Piper looked around the forest and at the carnage he had caused.
Within twenty minutes the retrieval team arrived in the shape of a Belgian Air Force Sea King Helicopter. “Tango One Zero, we have contact! Initiating retrieval, over.” As the branches from the nearby trees swayed from the down draught of the rotors, the pilot of the Sea King glanced back at his colleague, the winch man. He gave a thumb’s up sign then thought back to the Level One Security briefing they had both received before the mission. The contact may possibly be naked at the time of retrieval, they had been told. Do not ask questions; don’t say anything!
“This is Tango One Zero,” the pilot continued his report, “be advised, we have two for retrieval. I repeat, two for retrieval, do you copy, over?”
“Affirmative Tango One Zero, see you back at base, over and out!”
And at the same time, in the CEATA Communications Room, a young Canadian by the name of Nick Lucas pulled off his thick-rimmed glasses and wiped a tear from his right eye. “Thanks Ash,” he whispered, “thanks.”
2
CHAOS THEORY
In a fit of seething rage, Otto Von Kurst slammed his fist on the desk of the New Totenkopf’s Operations Centre, the look on his face like thunder. “All dead,” he asked, “all, except one?”
“Yes, my Fuhrer,” Claude Bescann’s heart was racing. He had seen the look in his leader’s eyes before. It was a look of sheer, venomous hatred! Slowly, still enveloped in anger, Von Kurst sat back in his leather swivel chair, his thoughts racing as he gazed at two grenadiers monitoring various news channels. “I presume the authorities have him, he was the youngest, only eighteen,” Bescann continued, his voice shaky.
“SHIT!” Again Von Kurst’s fist slammed onto his desk, “your men are supposed to be disciplined Bescann, well trained, so why did the idiots not follow your orders?”
“I am not sure,” Bescann bowed his head, “my Fuhrer.”
“This pathetic attempt at playing soldiers has cost us dear. How much did the captured security guard know of our operations?”
“Very little! After taking the Blood Oath he was trained at The Farmhouse by Falck and Kempler. As always, he had no contact with myself, the training was basic. He was then put on guard duty at the warehouse facility.”
“And his knowledge of the shipments?”
“None, he had no knowledge of the crates’ contents.”
“Well, at least that’s something, but the fact of this matter is an intruder has uncovered our weapon storage facility!” Claude Bescann did not reply, he just stood rigidly to attention, quiet, possibly ashamed, his face pale, anxious as he listened carefully to his leader. “Wilhelm must inform Vitali to suspend shipments at once.” Von Kurst picked up the internal telephone, “Wilhelm, I require your presence immediately.” He replaced the handset, “what are your thoughts on this infiltration Bescann?”
“As far as
I am concerned, this has resulted from the actions of the informer in Amsterdam. Obviously the shit passed on a certain amount of important information before he was liquidated.”
“Yes, go on!”
“This is definitely the work of a highly specialised unit.”
“A mixture of German Intelligence and GSG9?”
“No, no…I don’t think so my Fuhrer. Remember, our facility has been infiltrated by just one man. This has been well thought out, well planned, well executed and of course…” Bescann hesitated, as if willing his Fuhrer to answer his own thoughts, which he did!
“He knew of the infra-red security system?” Slowly, in a concentrated rhythm, Von Kurst started to tap the fingers of his right hand on the desk.
“Precisely, my Fuhrer.”
“Satellites,” whispered Von Kurst, the tapping fingers now clenching into a fist, “the intruder utilised satellite technology to break in!”
“My thoughts entirely. Even as we speak, the enemy, whoever they are, will now be constantly monitoring our activities at Building Four.”
Von Kurst’s gaze sent a shiver down Bescann’s spine, “then we must find out who our enemy is, and quickly!” There was a knock at the door and Wilhelm Oratz entered. “Ah, Wilhelm, I need to talk to you…Bescann,” Von Kurst glowered at his Standartenfuhrer, his eyes penetrating, powerful, “we will speak later.”
Claude Bescann bowed his head and clicked his heels together in salute, “of course my Fuhrer,” then left the room. Wilhelm Oratz stood in front of the large desk, a look of unbridled curiosity sat smugly on his gaunt face.
“We have been infiltrated Wilhelm,” said Von Kurst.
“WHAT!” Oratz was openly shocked, “where…how?”
“The warehouse facility, twenty three of our security guards are dead.”
“DEAD?”
“One of them has been captured and is now with the authorities, or so we presume.”
“So what of Project Amen?” Like his Fuhrer, Oratz was now deeply concerned.
“We still go ahead as planned, but as of now, Vitali must suspend the arms shipments.”
“Of course! I will contact him immediately, but tell me something my Fuhrer.”
“Yes, Wilhelm.”
“How did twenty three of our men die, was it a Special Ops raid?”
Von Kurst sat back and laughed aloud, “no, no my dear friend, it was not a Special Ops raid.”
Oratz was not amused at his close friend’s response to his very serious question, “then how?” he asked.
Von Kurst’s laughter ceased, his tone of voice lowering to a growl, “a lone wolf…took them all.”
“We were given your clothing sizes, I hope everything fits.” The winch man spoke through his internal headset to a now fully clothed and helmeted Ash Piper.
“Everything is fine, thank you.”
“He looks in a bad way,” said the winch man, nodding his head towards the young man now covered in several blankets, his eyes vacant, his body still trembling.
“He is,” replied Piper, slowly yawning. It felt like he hadn’t slept for a week! Languidly, Piper laid his helmeted head back against the Sea King’s vibrating metal frame, his mind returning to the forest and the slaughter. Then sleep took him.
“YOU TWO!” Von Kurst shouted at the grenadiers monitoring the news channels, “take a break…twenty minutes.” The two men gratefully accepted the chance of coffee and a cigarette and quickly exited the room.
“You mean there is another of the Were?” Wilhelm Oratz could not believe what he had just been told.
“Precisely,” Von Kurst looked both angry and tired, “and he fights against us!”
“How do you know?”
“I have sensed him for some time…strangely enough, just before the Americans and British invaded Iraq.”
“Then he is a major threat to our plans,” Oratz whispered.
“Yes Wilhelm, he is a threat. Never the less, we still continue as planned.”
Oratz looked quizzically into his Fuhrer’s eyes, “what else is on your mind Otto?”
“What do you mean?”
“I have known you for too long my friend, there is something troubling you. Is it Helga?”
Von Kurst nodded, his rugged face suddenly looking deeply troubled, “yes.”
“I know she is unwell.”
“Lana has sedated her.”
“SEDATED HER!” Oratz could not hide his annoyance, “WHY HAS THAT BITCH SEDATED HER?”
“ON MY INSTRUCTIONS WILHELM, MY INSTRUCTIONS!” Tempers were flaring.
Oratz took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. “My apologies Otto, I did not realise she was so sick, so what is the matter with her?”
Von Kurst hesitated then spoke quietly, “Helga is of the Were, Wilhelm.”
Oratz slowly took a deep intake of breath and shook his head in disbelief. “This just gets better and better,” he muttered.
Von Kurst continued, “it is a long story my friend, long and complicated, however, I do not have time to go through this with you at present.” There was no comment from Oratz. “I am worried, Helga’s mind and body are developing too quickly, the wolf DNA is interfering with her cell structure far too aggressively.” Von Kurst sighed, a look of fearful concern scything its way across his furrowed brow, “I fear she will not be able to deal with this change Wilhelm, the wolf will be too much for her to cope with. My friend,” Von Kurst gazed straight into his close friend’s eyes, “I fear for Helga’s sanity!”
“I see,” said Oratz, his voice now barely a whisper, his thoughts in turmoil.
“That is why I have asked Lana to take care of her, while she is sedated.”
Oratz looked puzzled, “but Otto, Lana hates Helga, surely you know that?”
“Of course I know that, but I am far too busy overseeing Project Amen to be with her all the time. Lana knows I wish this of her, I trust her.” Oratz fell silent again.
“Nevertheless,” said Von Kurst, “you have to contact Vitali, urgently. Explain the current situation to him, but you must assure him our plans will still go ahead…on schedule!”
“Of course my Fuhrer,” Oratz nodded, quickly bringing his thoughts back to the job at hand and to his forthcoming visit to St Petersburg. “I will make sure this matter is quickly taken care of.” Briskly, Oratz rose from his chair and walked towards the door. As he did so, he turned back and faced Von Kurst, “Otto,” he said.
“Yes Wilhelm.”
“Be truthful with me, are you starting to have feelings for Helga again?”
“At this moment in time my dear friend, that is none of your concern.”
“I understand,” Oratz bowed his head, “my Fuhrer.” As Wilhelm Oratz exited the New Totenkopf’s Operations Centre a rare, sly grin crept across his face. Spitefully, he thought of Helga Zeist, lying in a deep sleep with Were DNA coursing through her veins and of Lana Franke, the one woman whom he hated most in the world. That wretched bitch must be very concerned he thought, not for her new patient, but for herself! Without hesitation, Wilhelm Oratz’s grin quickly became a very wide smile.
It was a gentle voice…the woman’s, not threatening…just gentle. The naked man looked around at the white mist enveloping him. “Why do you hunt him?” the woman asked.
“I have to,” replied Piper, “he is a threat, to peace and stability.”
“No, lone wolf, you…are the threat!”
Ash Piper looked around but there was nothing to see, only the mist, slowly swirling, weaving its way ethereally around him. Piper was cold. He wrapped his arms around his nakedness and shivered.
The woman’s soft voice spoke again, “why do you not join us, it is for the best.”
“I cannot,” he whispered.
“And why is that, lone wolf?”
“Why should I answer you, you hide yourself, you are just a voice in my head!” Again, silence! Just the mist, the cold white mist, swirling around him.
“I
do not want you to fight him, it is pointless,” said the woman’s voice, “please, for your own sake and ours…join us.”
“YOURS IS A WORLD OF CHAOS!” Piper yelled, the cold numbing his bones, chilling his senses.
“Yes, our world is chaotic lone wolf, but all life revolves around chaos.” Piper bowed his head, shivered again and waited. He would not speak any further until the woman showed herself. “You are of our kind,” she continued, “and our kind live in a realm free from the boundaries of human form…surely, you must acknowledge this?” Piper knew she was right. “Yes, you know I speak the truth, don’t you…lone wolf?”
Get out of my head he thought, the mist continuing to whirl around him, still enveloping his nakedness in an icy chill. He felt vulnerable, alone. “Lone wolf…” the woman’s voice paused, “you must join us, you are a part of our life cycle. Your blood…is our blood. We will care for you, as we care for all our kind.”
“NO!” Piper yelled, “YOUR KIND KILL FOR PLEASURE, YOU HUNT FOR PLEASURE, IT IS WRONG, IT IS EVIL!” Piper’s skin seemed to crawl from the intense cold, his arms still wrapped around his naked form. The woman’s voice ceased. He looked around…there was nothing, just the mist. Then he heard the howling, echoing all around him, not just a single wolf, no, perhaps…another!
Steadily, the white mist began to part. Piper was afraid, genuinely afraid. There was a crack of thunder, but no lightning. Slowly, inexplicably, the mist revealed a bleak, dark forest. Piper shivered again, the numbness of the cold travelling mercilessly through his body, his skin prickling with what seemed a million icy needles. Suddenly Piper gasped and stood still, as if frozen in terror. There, in the middle of the blackness, stood two wolves, overly large and strangely magnificent.
The howling had ceased.
Cautiously, Piper began to walk towards them, why, he did not know, for he was terrified and yet…he felt like he was being drawn to the wolves, like a nail to a magnet. With their thickly furred tails quickly rising to the vertical, the two magnificent wolves gazed at Piper, their wide eyes blood red, their hackles raised in anger. They growled, their snouts peeling back, their razor sharp canines ready to bite, to tear, to rip. Piper stopped, his heartbeat racing, his head thumping. The forest was dark, eerie, surrounding him…as if in a mantle of chaos.