Watkins’ eyes had gone wide, and when he raised the cigarette to take a drag, his fingers visibly trembled.
“That’s top secret info, I mean, Whitehall level top secret. Have we had a security breach on top of everything else?”
“No,” I said, “but I’ve seen your wee wolfies before. We were in Siberia, the cap and I. And the shite hit the fan there too. Luckily we can smell shite before we need to see it.”
He was calming now and had a shifty look I didn’t like; he looked like a man ready to play a bluff and we weren’t holding a decent hand to play against him.
“I don’t have much more to tell you then,” Watkins said. “They’re out and they’re vicious. We need to get away from here and…”
The cap interrupted him again. Watkins didn’t like it; he didn’t look like a man who was used to it.
“There is certainly much more you can tell me. You can start with how many of you there were at the site and how many might still be alive up there. You can tell me how you got out and nobody else did, you can tell me how many of these wolves are running about out there and you can tell me what else you’re not telling me. That’ll do for starters…I’m sure I’ll think of something more, but I’m waiting…”
Watkins wasn’t about to divulge any more than he needed to. He kept his mouth shut and just stared back at the cap.
“Okay,” the cap said. “Have it your way. It’s time I tried to check in again anyway.”
He took out the sat-phone and this time he got through. We heard his side of the conversation as he briefed the colonel on the state of things so far. After a time, the cap turned to Watkins.
“We can do this the easy way… tell me now and I won’t have to do what comes next.”
Watkins still stayed schtum so cap told the colonel what was needed and two minutes later handed the phone over to Watkins.
“There’s somebody wanting to speak to you.”
We didn’t hear the other end of the conversation and Watkins only got a chance to say two words, “Yes, minister,” before he went quiet and his orders were relayed to him in no uncertain terms. He sputtered and stammered and went red despite the paleness of his skin. There was a raised voice at the far end of the call, we heard that much and it was a much chastened man who eventually handed the phone back to the captain.
“I’ll tell you everything,” Watkins said.
“Aye. I thought you might,” the cap replied with a thin smile. “But first things first.”
He turned to the sheriff.
“They’re planning an evac as soon as the storm abates. How quickly can you get everybody ready to move out?”
“All we need is five minutes notice,” she replied. “But we’re not abandoning our town.”
“Nobody expects you to. It’s just until we can get things under control. I promise you’ll all get back as soon as the job’s done.”
She looked cap dead in the eye.
“I’ll hold you to that personally,” she said.
“You go ahead and do that,” Cap said. That seemed to satisfy her. Cap turned back to Watkins but if the geneticist had anything more to tell us he wasn’t going to get a chance right then.
Something heavy hit the door of the station hard enough from outside to rock it in its frame. A high howl rose above the wind and was answered by a chorus, getting ever closer.
The pack was on our doorstep.
- 5 -
The sheriff had her rifle in hand even before the rest of us reacted.
“They did this before,” she said. “The door held… that time.”
I wasn’t at all sure that was going to remain the case. The station rang like a struck bell, almost as if a heavy vehicle…a pickup truck maybe… was battering the door instead of anything living and breathing.
“They did that at the station too,” Watkins said at my back. “They’ll get in. They always get in.”
“Aye,” I replied, raising my weapon. “I saw that movie too.”
Wilko, Jennings, Davies, the captain, the sheriff and me along with them moved without any orders to form a line ten feet inside the door, standing there with our weapons aimed at the doorway. Whatever was out there continued to bang and batter away at the outside. The door shook and rattled, dislodging dust around the frame. But it held.
Somewhere outside, a beast howled in frustration.
“Maybe it just wants a biscuit,” Davies said, deadpan.
“Have you got any, like?” Wilko replied. “I’m bloody starving here.”
“Steady, lads,” I said. “Remember, short, controlled bursts.”
Sheriff Sue laughed.
“Now that one I have seen.”
The banging and bashing stopped, as if it had heard us and was listening.
“Little pigs, little pigs, let me come in,” Davies said.
“Not on your fucking nelly,” I replied.
When there was no further attack on the door for several minutes, I had the men stand down and dispatched Wilko to get some more coffee on. I went back to check on our patient. Watkins was still eyeing the door warily.
“Can I bother you for another cigarette? While your doctor is looking the other way?”
“I’ll join you,” I replied.
We sucked smoke in silence for a minute. When he started to speak it was more as if he was reminding himself of something, so I didn’t butt in, just let him ramble, hoping I’d learn something that might be to our advantage.
“They won’t give up, you know? They never give up; it’s been bred into them, hard wired. That bloody fool Masterton thought they were just big puppies and treated them like pets but there was never one of them that wasn’t more than ready to bite the hand that fed it. Now, even I, who has hardly a sentimental bone in his body, will admit that when they were just born they were cute little buggers, playful even. But as soon as they were weaned, they began establishing order among themselves and the biggest of them began dominating and taking charge. After a month we had to reinforce the cages. The big bugger—Masterton, unimaginatively called him Fenris—had the rest of them trying to chew their way out and they obeyed him, even as their teeth cracked and split and blood ran from torn lips and mashed gums. We had to shoot two of the livelier ones that time.
“It wasn’t long after that Masteron got mauled. He got caught in the cage with them during feeding time and the big one ambushed him from behind. Damn near tore his scalp off and took a bite the size of his fist out of his thigh. He couldn’t walk for a fortnight and if he’d lived would be using a cane for the rest of his life. But even then the daft bugger was making excuses for them, saying it was just in their nature.
“But the rest of us prevailed in the discussion, thank the Lord. We had the pack moved outside the station to a small wooded area enclosed by high security fencing that we had to get shipped in especially for the job. The pencil pushers in Whitehall raised a hell of a stink at the cost of it all of course, but we got what we needed eventually once Masterton showed that the wolves could indeed be trained. Even that was a con job though; the one that latched on to him and got him the best results was the runt of the litter and he raised it in isolation from the others.
“And it turned out that his wee pet was the first casualty. Two nights ago it was. The alarm went off while most of us were asleep and by the time anybody thought to do anything about it, it was too late; the pack got out and they went hunting.