Cadet Mantjies allowed the recruits a minute of bouncing and exclaiming, then he called them all to order to do the final bits of cleaning up. Toppers and Pote were sent off with the box, with strict instructions to take it straight to Doctor Scubbe. The rest were set to work, cleaning and mopping. By the time Sergeant Landman came round to check, not a trace of rubbish remained either in the truck or on the ground behind it and all the bins were neatly lined up.
“Breakfast, now,” said Mantjies. He grinned, holding his nose. “And you guys better all grab a shower first.”
Gia followed the others back into the building. She did not see Cadet Jooste until she blocked her way. “So, Grobbelaar,” said the cadet. “Pretty brave of you, to grab a lacefester with your bare hands.”
Gia looked warily up at the taller girl, wondering at her scornful tone. “I had gloves on. It wasn’t such a big deal, really.”
The cadet was looked her up and down, a smile on her lips, but none in her eyes. “There’s something funny about you, Grobbelaar.” Then she stepped out of Gia’s way. “Go on, get inside.” She jerked her thumb toward the railing, where Gia’s white shirt still hung. “And don’t forget your shirt.”
Gia let the hot shower blast directly into her face. It was pure bliss. Not just the steaming water but the simple fact of being alone. She’d not had a moment to herself since arriving at Valkenberg. Even using the toilet was a communal experience, with people having conversations between the stalls.
Then shower curtains moved and she felt a gust of cold air. “Wasting water, cadet! First-years don’t get hot water, don’t you know that?”
Cadet Govender, another of the senior cadets, reached to turn off the hot tap, while Jooste grinned over her shoulder. The water became an icy blast. Gia stood, dripping wet, naked but for her mother’s silver bracelets.
“You got a problem, cadet?” said Govender.
“No,” Gia said. “But you’re getting wet.”
For a moment the girl held her stare. Then she let the curtain drop back and Gia heard the two cadets move away. “Told you she’s trouble, that one,” she heard Jooste say.
Gia washed herself quickly. After the first shock, the cold water was not unpleasant. She stepped out of the shower stall and dried herself, her skin tingling. All around her were the other girls, all new recruits to the Special Branch Youth Brigade, just like her. Gia was not used to being naked in front of strangers and pulled on her clothes as quickly as she could.
Cadet Motsepe was the most at ease of them all, still only in her underwear, unhurriedly peering in the mirror and patting at the neat rows of braids that patterned her scalp. The skinny redhead next to her was Cadet Clarke and the girl with the determined jaw was Cadet van Niekerk. Then there was Cadet Isaacs, a small girl with a fading bruise on her cheek. Something about her reminded Gia of the street kids she’d seen begging on corners, a mixture of pushy confidence and suspicion.
There were others, but Gia could not remember their names. The girl with the tattoos, who’d kicked up such a fuss, yesterday, at having to remove all her earrings. Now she seemed on the edge of tears, puffy-faced and quite subdued, no trace of attitude remaining. And the pretty girl with the honey-brown hair and large blue eyes. Quite a few of the girls wore the silver bracelets that marked them as purists, although none were as elaborately patterned as Gia’s. None of them spoke in the watchful presence of Jooste and Govender.
Gia buried her face in her towel, breathing in the comforting scent of her own wet hair.
I can do this. It’s not so bad.
-oOo-
Breakfast was in the refectory, a sunny room full of the noise of cutlery on plates and loud conversation. All of the Special Branch Youth Brigade was gathered here. Gia got her food—a bowl of mieliepap porridge and some toast—and joined the other recruits at their table. For a moment she sat, unable to eat. The scent of mieliepap brought back memories of home, of Mandy stirring a big pot of it in the kitchen, of her brother Nico making milk rivers in his bowl. It was one of the games she’d played with him, to get him to eat his breakfast. The porridge was a landscape that had to be dug out, one spoonful at a time, creating channels for the milk to flow.
Well, it was for Nico, after all, that she was here. To keep the Belle Gente from taking him. As long as she was a useful spy, kept her side of the bargain, they’d leave him alone.
She took a shaky breath and forced herself to eat.
-oOo-
After breakfast, the new recruits were split into two groups, half of them headed for data capture training and the rest, Gia’s group, were to go to C block.
“Also known as the Wolf Cages,” said Jooste as she led them out the door. “You’ll be with Sergeant Kemp. She’s in charge of the Special Branch werewolves. Better watch your step. Kemp’s a real bitch. She’ll bite your head off and spit down the hole.”
Sergeant Kemp met them at the C Block entrance. The recruits looked at her warily, but, “Thank you, Cadet Jooste, I’ll take them from here,” was all she said.
Jooste left and Sergeant Kemp stood, hands hooked in her belt, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet. Her short-cropped hair was grey at the temples and her eyes were very pale in her tanned face. She wore fingerless leather gloves, and her rolled-up sleeves revealed the silver tracks of multiple scars on her forearms.
“Right!” Kemp said at last. “I’m gonna tell you a few things out here, before we go into the cages. You better know now that I don’t repeat myself. So listen up, or you might end up worse than dead.”
Vetkoek gave a nervous giggle, which earned him an unimpressed look. “That’s right,” said Kemp. “There’s worse things than dying. Work with weres and you learn that lesson pretty damn quick. So listen up. Lesson one. Forget everything you think you know about weres. For example. Weres don’t change at every full moon. Maybe they used to, before industrialisation and artificial light. Maybe the weres who live out in the wilds still change with the moon, we don’t know. Here, we trigger the change by controlling photoperiods. That is, the light levels they are exposed to. So rule number one in the cages. Don’t switch any lights on, or off, unless by a direct order from me, or one of the controllers.
“Even flashing a torch in a were’s eyes can throw out their cycle and waste months of careful work. Next thing. Being bitten does not always mean being turned. It’s a lot more difficult to make a werewolf than people think. But being bitten will always leave a nasty scar and of course, if you are stupid or unlucky enough to get it in the throat or one of the major arteries, you’ll simply bleed to death.
“We’ll go over the first aid procedure for treating and cleaning a werewolf bite, but prevention, as they say, is better than cure. Now.” Sergeant Kemp let go her belt. She emphasised each phrase by slapping the knuckles of one leather-gloved hand into the palm of the other. “Do not give a werewolf anything, or take anything from a werewolf, unless by direct order. Do not go into any part of the wolf cages unless ordered to do so. Never turn your back on a werewolf, unless it is muzzled and in the care of a controller.”
Gia saw that several of her fellow cadets had gone pale. Everyone’s attention was riveted on the sergeant.
“And above all, do not, under any circumstances, ever, trust a werewolf. It’s best not to talk to them, although that cannot always be avoided. Right. There’s a lot more to learn, but those are the basics. If you follow orders and use your brains, you should be okay. Follow me.”
-oOo-
Kemp opened the main gate and herded them all into the cramped space between that and another, internal gate.
“Everybody in? Right. Notice that it’s impossible for both of these gates to be open at the same time. If one is open, a bar drops down to lock the other one.” She demonstrated, attempting to open the internal gate while the outer gate still stood open. It banged and rattled in its frame, but it was clear that it would be impossible to open it.
“See that bar up there? Watch it mo
ve aside as I close the outside gate.”
The gate closed with a solid thump. They all heard the lock engage and this time, the internal gate ran smoothly on its railings when the sergeant pulled at it.
“This is one of the safety mechanisms we have in place, to prevent a mass break out.”
Beyond the gate was a long corridor, cement floored and open to the sky. On either side were cages fronted with metal bars.
“These are the outside pens,” said Sergeant Kemp, walking down between the rows of cages. “We call this the daylight row. This is where we keep the mischlings and the spurhunde that are in their dog-head stage, ready for sniffer duty. The werewolves here have been stalled partway through their transformation. Human body, wolf head. The mischlings are the best for general detection of magical activity. The spurhunde are the trackers, the scent hounds.”
Gia looked at the cages that surrounded her. They were barred on all sides and roofed over with a dense ceiling of metal mesh. At the back of each was a concrete shelter. These appeared empty at first, but then Gia saw a man standing in a shadowed entrance of one.
Or was it a man? He was leaning in the door, smoking a cigarette, hood pulled up over his head so that his face was not visible.
Kemp was still talking.
“The dog-heads are kept out here, ready for patrol, for a week at a time. We keep them stalled by controlling the hormones in their feed. Dog-head is the best stage for police work. The full wolf stage is too difficult to control and the human stage too unpredictable.”
As she spoke, Kemp led them slowly down the corridor. Gia had trouble concentrating on her words, distracted by the figures she now saw lurking in the shadows behind the grilles on either side. Only one werewolf stood right up against the front, fingers hooked through the bars. Her body was lithe and muscular and her face reminded Gia of an Afghan hound—elegant and fine boned, with a long, aristocratic muzzle and large, dark brown eyes. Tattooed roses with thorny stems coiled around her bare arms.
She didn’t get those tattoos in here. Where did she come from, before she got locked in that cage?
“This is Lizzie,” said Sergeant Kemp. “Lizzie’s been here in the outside pens for five days now, going out on patrol every day.”
Lizzie looked calmly back at the staring cadets, but one ear flicked a little, as though troubled by a fly.
“Lizzie’s one of our best spurhunde,” said Kemp. “She hardly even needs a controller, even though she’s not been here as long as some of the others. She’s exceptionally good at urban work. Not all werewolves can handle the crowds and noise of the city.”
“Sergeant?”
“Yes, Cadet?”
The questioner was the pretty, blue-eyed girl that Gia knew by now was called Cadet Mayer. “Why do they only stay in this stage for a week? Couldn’t you just keep them like this permanently?”
“Doesn’t work.” Sergeant Kemp started walking again. “They go insane. Or their cycle goes out of whack and then we can’t get them under control again. It’s best to keep it predictable. Wolf, dog-head, human, dog-head, each for a week. Twenty-eight days in total. Now, some of you may have noticed these.”
Kemp pointed at a box mounted on the side of the cage. It had a little sliding door, which the sergeant opened to reveal a large, red button. “This is the alarm. There’s one on every cage, as you can see. If you push this button, it starts the alarm, calling reinforcements from all over the compound. We use this only in a true emergency situation. An escape attempt, weres fighting, that kind of thing. Pushing this button brings down some serious force.” Sergeant Kemp looked them over coldly. “I would not advise anyone pushing this for a prank.”
They’d reached the end of the row of cages and now entered a large, open-plan room. Several people turned to look as they came in, Special Branch constables that Gia guessed must be the werewolf controllers, as well as some of the older Youth Brigade cadets. They were working at the basins and counters that lined the room.
“Hey, guys,” called Kemp. “These are the new recruits. Come to do your dirty work for you. Take a good look at them, you’ll be having to keep them out of trouble for the next few weeks, until they know their way around.”
“Fresh meat,” said one of the controllers with a grin, a woman almost as broad as she was tall. “We’ll keep them in line, don’t worry, Sarge. Cut a few bits off here and there...”
There was some laughter at this, but Kemp went on as though she had not heard. “This is what we call the kitchen. It’s where we prepare the food,” she said. “Helping out here will be one of your duties.” She pointed at a metal door. “This is the freezer, where we keep the meat.” She pulled on the door and dragged it open. Everyone drew back from the cold air that came breathing out. “There’s a handle on the inside as well, in case any of you are ever fool enough to get shut inside there.” The door shut with a thunk. “Through that door is the surgery and the medical supply storage. And here is the file room, where we keep our records. You’ll all be filing your check sheets here, every time you are on duty.”
“Sergeant?” One of the controllers was drying his hands on a stained towel.
“Yes, Controller Pienaar?”
“Captain Witbooi sent a message—he’ll be coming round to see how the recruits are doing. Should be here in a few minutes.”
“Oh. Well, I’m just taking these guys to the midnight row. Should be done with that before he arrives.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sergeant Kemp opened another door near the back. “This is the light-lock. Follow me, there’s enough space here for everyone.”
There was a small room beyond the door, closed off on the far side by another door. It was dark, the only light coming from the door that Sergeant Kemp held open while the recruits trooped through. When she closed it, a red light came on.
“The light-lock works just like the gates at the entrance. It is impossible for both doors to be open at the same time. That’s so that we can go into and out of here without accidentally flooding the row with light. This red light has a minimal effect on the werewolves, so it’s fairly safe to use.”
She pulled open the inner door.
“This is the part we call the twilight row. This first lot is in a half-light phase at the moment, so you’ll be able to see fairly well.”
The space beyond the door stank of wet dog, as well as a musky, itchy scent that made Gia’s skin prickle. There was a low, rushing hum, probably an extractor fan. As her eyes grew used to the dim light, she saw that this area was similar to the first set of cages, except that it was roofed and much smaller. There were narrow red strip lights all along the ceiling, giving off a dull glow, just enough to see by.
Then she noticed a shape right up against the nearest grid. A dog—no, surely that was far too big to be a dog. It looked like a cross between a German Shepherd and a small bear. The cadets eyed it nervously, but Sergeant Kemp just continued with her lecture as though it was not there.
“At the moment, all the occupants in here are in full wolf stage. That’s not always the case. You’ll see some full human phase in here sometimes. It can be difficult to keep track of it all. Always remember, that they are all werewolves. Newcomers here have a habit of thinking of the weres in this stage as dogs, or as wolves. They are not.”
She looked them over, one at a time. “Remember that. They are werewolves. They know how to screw with your mind. They can understand what we say. Many of them can read. And they have better memories than most humans.” Again, one leather-clad hand slapped the other to emphasise her words. “Don’t. Ever. Underestimate them.”
A movement in one of the cages caught Gia’s eye. It was a dog-like werewolf, white and skinny enough to show ribs. It was lying on the concrete, gnawing at something. As she followed the group further down the corridor, she saw that there was a werewolf in every cage and in some cages, more than one. Some had their ears pricked, some glanced sidelong, but all of them seemed inten
sely aware of the group of cadets.
“Now through here.” Kemp had reached another metal door. “Is the midnight row. Follow me.”
Once again, they were shut in a red-lit space between two doors. This time, Sergeant Kemp switched off the safe light before she opened the inside door.
“The red light doesn’t have much of an effect, but it’s best to minimise all light in this area. We only use torches here, although in an emergency it is possible to switch on safe lights to flood the area.” There was a click and a small red glow showed in her hand. The space beyond the door was utterly black. Without the sergeant’s torch, they would all have been completely blind. As it was, all that they could see was the grid closest to them, picked out in the soft, red light.
“Come on, move along,” said Kemp, as the group of recruits shuffled reluctantly forward. Gia heard the door shut softly behind them. Here, too, the dominant sound was the dull roar of extractor fans.
“You’ll be coming in here regularly,” said Kemp. “To help the controllers give out food and to clean the cages, of course.”
“Morning, Sergeant,” said someone right next to Gia. She felt her heart trip and stutter with fright. “It is morning, isn’t it?” It was a man’s voice, refined, not young and with an Afrikaans accent. Gia stared into the dark, trying to make out the speaker, but she could see nothing at all.
“Best not to think about the time, Lucky,” said Sergeant Kemp.
“Wise words, Sergeant,” said the man. “But that is a skill I have not mastered. Yet. Forgetting about the time. You’d think that would be easy to do, in here. But you’ve brought me some visitors. Young ones, by their scent.”
There was a clanging from deeper in the cages. A woman shouted, “When can I go to the beach. I want to go to the beach!”
A younger voice groaned, “Oh, go to sleep!”
“It’s always dark in here?” asked one of the cadets.
“Yes,” said Kemp.
“Always,” came Lucky’s voice. “Always dark. You think you’ll get used to it. But you never do.”
Wolf Logic Page 2