Moonlight - Chapter 9

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Before I receive another piece of hate mail about not having written on MOONLIGHT in the last few weeks, I need to lay out what’s been going on.  I’ve been working on a show…

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If you are anxiously awaiting tomorrow’s Moonlight…

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MOONLIGHT

Chapter 8

 

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MOONLIGHT

Issue 1 - Chapter 7

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MOONLIGHT

Issue 1 – Chapter 6

David caught the subway and made his way towards The Pen to release Eddie and begin another day’s work.  He attempted to use a different route everyday as he was instructed, sometimes backtracking over his own path two or three times, but in the end there were only so many ways to skin a cat.  He was assigned a different order every week on where and when to enter and exit the underground facility. The Pen had many entrances and exits but he only knew of the ones he was told about. 

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Well…. I guess while Spacekicker is hanging out with family (and by “hanging out with family” I mean “Middle East mercinary work”) I suppose someone ought to put something on this site.

Might as well be me!

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MOONLIGHT

Episode 1 - Chapter 5

The Wolf continuted to feast beneath the man-hole cover long after John Piper’s last heart-beat.  His eyes, gorged with blood, looked to the round entrance of the street and continued to eat. He was being watched and his own eyes were being used against him, but the kill was fresh and he dared not leave it behind for the rats. He kept his head down, eating; all the while his eyes roamed the surface watching those who watched him.

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The Adventures of Castor Calebar
Episode 1 - Part 1

The Aldarian Defense Freighter (ADF) dropped from hyper-space into an orbit around Jeeder, the 5^th moon of the planet Exi-lor.  The moon was an intergalactic pit-stop; a planet sized roadhouse for freighters, gangsters and general travelers.  It was the last refuge before its customers embarked on the long travel that separated the Raldar and Contui Systems .  It was a 20 day expedition across a galactic war zone and that was with the proverbial pedal to the metal on the hyper-space drive.

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David Carter was out of breath and his lungs were beginning to burn.

Man, can this demon run, he thought. He’d been chasing it for 5 blocks and it wasn’t tiring. If Eddie didn’t show up soon they were gonna lose him.

This demon was a particularly nasty one. It had been killing homeless men and women for at least six weeks (as far as the Agency knew), spending its days hiding in the abandoned subway tunnels and nights on the streets. Eddie had caught wind of him about 30 minutes ago and hunted him down.

“Eddie!” David screamed into his Com while in full sprint. The gap was widening between David and the demon. He was gonna lose him.

David stopped to avoid a coronary and leaned over in frustration. He raised his head just in time to watch the demon run straight into the swinging arm of Eddie who had been waiting in the bushes. The demon slammed to the concrete sidewalk unconscious. Eddie liked to watch wrestling and when the situation arose he especially like to close-line runners.

“Good ol’ Eddie,” David whispered in between his desperate gasps for oxygen.

The arm retracted back into the bushes as David rose and started jogging toward the scene of this particular demon’s impending doom. Out from the bushes a black fur snout about 10″ long stuck out and sniffed the cool New York air.

“No one’s around. Come on out” David spoke into the mic contained in his jacket. It was 3:15am. He didn’t even want to be out.

From behind the bushes stepped David’s 8 foot, 350 pound partner, Eddie Francisco. Eddie was a Werewolf and as far as Wolves go Eddie was pretty damn good. As Eddie’s Handler, David was proud to work with him. He was one of the top Wolves at The Agency.

Eddie looked at David as he approached to make sure he wasn’t going to keel over. David, a bit out of shape, gave him the thumbs up. Eddie turned, grabbed the demon by the back of the shirt and dragged him back into the bushes and deep into the park. Eddie was waiting for him when David finally made it through the underbrush.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Eddie said.

“Go right ahead.”

Eddie lifted the unconscious demon by its throat and above his head. It always amazed David how big the Wolf’s hands were.

“Man I’m glad we’re on the same side,” David said.

Eddie turned and smiled as if to say You better believe you’re glad.

Eddie lowered the demon to his face and growled in its ear. The Command, hidden somewhere within the growl itself, came from deep inside the massive Wolf’s torso. The demons body shook and its eyes flew open like someone had just stuck its hand in a blender. It threw its head back and let out the silent scream. Eddie winced and every dog within a 3 block radius howled, but the sound was out of David’s range of hearing. From the demon’s mouth came dozens of souls he’d held captive, torturing them for who knows how long. It always smells like the bottom of a sewer when that happens, Eddie thought.

Once it was over, Eddie lowered the demon to the ground and David walked over.

“What’s your name?”

Exhausted and beaten, the demon mumbled something insulting in its lower tounge.

“I think he just said something about your mother, Eddie.”

Eddie squeezed the demon’s neck a little tighter and a cry of pain escaped its lips. David leaned in close to the demon’s face.

“Look,” he said, “I’ve been chasing your ass for 10 blocks now…”

“Five,” Eddie corrected.

“What?”

“It was five blocks.”

“Fine. Five blocks.” David turned back to the demon. “We both know how this is going to end. This can either be long and drawn out, not to mention painful, or your can give me your name, we’ll end it quick and I can go home and sleep the rest of the night.”

The demon snarled, but was cut off mid-snarl as Eddie squeezed his neck and broke it with the flick of his thumb. The demon’s body fell to the ground.

“What the…!” David said.

“Eh… he wasn’t gonna give it to you anyway,” Eddie shrugged.

“It’s my job to get his name!”

“Give me a break! They NEVER give it to you.”

“That’s fine, but it’s my decision to make,” David said. He tried to be authoritative with Eddie and not sound like he was pouting at the same time. David was the Handler, but Eddie was the Wolf. The muscle of the team. Without him, David wouldn’t even be here. Many times over.

“Right, sorry. I’ll wait next time. So you ready for me to finish it or what?”

“Yeah. Go on,” David said, acting like he wasn’t dying to get home and go to sleep.

Eddie lifted the limp body off the ground and took it in his massive jaws. He flung his head and body down to the right as if he’d just been cold-cocked and bit down full force. From in Eddie’s mouth David could see the light escaping the bite marks where Eddie’s teeth had pierced its flesh. There was the inevitable pop sound and then the smell of rotten eggs that had been left in the sun. In a flash, the body was gone. Only a perfect dust statue remained. As quickly as it was created, the dust figure fell to the ground and the ashes scattered. It never ceased to amaze them how quick the demons disintegrated once they were bitten.

David turned to leave, exhausted and ready for position number 9 on his special order Sleep Number Serta. Eddie followed.

“Did you know,” Eddie said, “the fastest a human can run is roughly 23 mph? That’s in short distance.”

David didn’t respond.

“How fast do you think you were going back there on the sidewalk?”

“I wouldn’t know, I spent most my time screaming into the Com for my partner to respond,” David stated.

“Next time I’ll be more thoughtful and blow my cover in response to your frantic cries,” Eddie said.

They were silent for a moment.

“Of course, you’ll leave it out of the report that I stopped a block back,” David said.

“I always do,” Eddie smiled.

David exited the bushes onto the sidewalk and turned back to the darkness of the park where Eddie remained.

“The van’s about 8 blocks back. It’ll be a few minutes,” he said.

“Alright,” Eddie replied.

——————————————————————————————-

Eddie sat down on the ground with his back against a tree and breathed deep the night air. He thought to himself how much he loved the thrill of the chase and the pride of the capture. Even the foul taste of the things he caught didn’t bother him. He embraced his role for what it was. It came naturally to him-in this life and the past.

He lifted his head and stared up at the stars hidden from human sight by the city lights but visible to him through his powerful yellow eyes. The constellations filled the sky. Above him was his favorite: Orion the Hunter.

——————————————————————————————-

“Where is it dad?” Luke asked.

“Which one?” Eddie replied.

“Orion, dad. Which one is it?”

Eddie Francisco was a 10 year veteran of New York’s finest and since his son had been old enough, he took him out of the city into the Maine wilderness to camp. He looked forward to the trip every year the only way a father can. His son felt the same.

Smiling and laying on their backs under the star filled night Eddie pulled Luke closer to him so he could align his head better with his arm as he pointed out the constellation.

“It’s right there. See it? See the belt with the three stars across? Then his sword drops down at an angle.” Eddie’s finger traced the stars with his hand so his son could find them easier.

“Oh yeah! I see ‘em now,” Luke said excitedly. He was only 8 years old but was already smarter than most kids his age.

“Do you remember what those two are?” Eddie pointed to the upper left and lower left of Orion.

“Don’t tell me. I know this.”

“Ok.” Eddie smiled.

After a few seconds of thought Luke broke, “Ok… just a hint though!”

“Canis….” Eddie let it slip out slowly to give his son a chance.

“Canis Major and Canis Minor!” Luke shouted. The campfire light was dancing off their camping gear and faces.

“And what are they?” Eddie asked. He stared at the constellations, forming their image in his mind.

Luke sat up and looked at his dad laying on the ground. With certainty in his voice the boy remembered his father’s lesson: “Those are Orion’s hunting dogs.”

Eddie smiled with pride and ruffled his son’s hair.

Hidden in the dark, away from the warm light of the campfire, dark yellow eyes watched the father and son. And it hated them.

——————————————————————————————-

The shout of David’s voice from the van pulled Eddie from his dream and brought him straight back to reality.

“Eddie, let’s go!” David shouted.

Eddie rose and peered over the bushes onto the sidewalk. Not a soul in sight. He stepped out of the shrubs and into the back of the large conversion van. The side of it read New York City Division of Animal Control. That’s a joke, Eddie thought as he closed the heavy door with the flick of his wrist.

The van was warm and comfortable. All the Agency’s vehicles were custom made for Wolf transport, though only two would fit in the back happily. There were never to be three peas in this pod.

They drove through the city on the way back to The Agency. David could barely keep his eyes open and Eddie was already snoring in the back. 30 minutes later they pulled into the alley behind Giuseppe’s, a pet store found in the heart of Brooklyn.

Giuseppe’s was vacant and had been locked up for years though the sign on the front door read “Stick Around Little Doggie! We’ll Be Back in 30!” Its windows had been covered with paper to avoid any nosey neighbors. There was no telephone number listed, no advertisements for kittens or puppies and no record of business or owner with the state. The Agency liked it that way. It was just somebody’s inside joke that Giuseppe’s was a pet store.

The Wolves didn’t think it was funny.

David drove to the beat-up garage door. The computer recognized the sensor in the front of the van and measured the temperature and number of the occupants inside. It verified the information with that of the previous record when the van left 13 hours ago. The system opened the flimsy aluminum garage door only to expose a 2 foot thick steel door. This door also slid open and David drove onto the garage’s interior platform.

The steel doors closed behind him. A scan of the room and van were performed again to verify that only the original occupants had entered the garage. No reason for peering eyes or curious minds to see what the Agency had worked so hard to keep hidden for decades.

With the scan complete side clamps rose from the floor like cobras in a basket and secured the van to the platform floor. David double checked his seatbelt and turned to see Eddie was strapped in as well. David had forgotten to buckle up once when entering the garage. Once was enough.

With a soft hum and a small jerk, the floor of the garage plummeted downward 20 floors below street level at what Eddie had so eloquently dubbed S!%* Splattering Speed. They reached the bottom and the platform settled. The arms holding the van released and a siren announced the all-clear. David drove the van to its usual spot and shut it down for the night.

Eddie woke up and crawled out the side. Just another night on the town, he thought. They made their way to The Pen, the Agency’s secured operational entrance, and placed their hand and eye in the scanner for identification and entered the restricted area. Inside the main door was the Warrior Room. Wolves were preparing for the coming day, some were returning from the night. Some came in on stretchers, others under sheets. Handler’s were finishing paperwork or consulting with superiors.

Above the main floor of the Warrior Room the catwalk was patrolled by the Agency’s own security. Cameras watched from the ceiling, and the monitors they were connected to were watched by men with large guns 10 floors up. Here inside the Pen the Wolves spent their time training, studying and living what they had left of their transformed lives.

The Handlers lived above ground, outside of the protection of the Pen. They lead fictional existences that would bore anyone to tears. They were given non-professional job titles to keep what few friends and acquaintances that had at bay. The Agency didn’t want Handlers’ covers being questioned due to lack of knowledge concerning grandma’s basic taxes, finance law or the occasional foot fungus. They “performed” jobs people usually ignore and don’t request a great many details about: janitors in buildings that didn’t exist, short order cooks in restaurants without a stove and city workers doing things to stuff in areas no one knew.

Eddie made his way to his quarters for the night and David to the elevator which took him back to the surface. They exited to their separate lives.

Exhausted, David called out, “Goodnight Eddie.”

Equally exhausted, Eddie raised his fist in the air to acknowledge his partner as he walked behind the door which would lock until David returned in 9 hours.

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Eddie and Luke continued to watch the stars that night. They talked about the Yankees, what fish they would catch tomorrow and who would be the first to wipe their butt with poison ivy. Eddie was betting on Luke, though he knew out here it was anybody’s game.

It was late and Luke’s bedtime had long since passed. Eddie sent him off into the tent to get changed. Man I love being out here, Eddie thought. He hoped someday to leave the city and move somewhere like this. Eddie loved the quiet, but Katie, his wife, was a born and bred city girl. She worked as an attorney at a mid-sized firm. She was just beginning to cut her teeth on bigger deals that would lead to higher pay and their lives further up the ladder.

Eddie checked in on Luke only to find him already asleep but half-dressed. He had his night shirt on but no bottoms to cover his Superman underwear. Eddie finished dressing him and placed him in his sleeping bag for the night. He kissed his forehead and exited the tent.

Eddie cracked open a Bud Light from the cooler and laid back for a little longer to listen to the night beneath the full moon and stars. One beer became two and two moved onto three. Feeling mellow, the true call of nature awoke and beckoned Eddie to a tall tree just outside the ring of the warm fire. He stumbled when he rose, but quickly righted himself and decided he’d had enough for the night. If Katie were here, she’d laugh at him. This made him smile as he made his way to his au natural outhouse to relieve himself. When he finished he zipped up with the dark forest behind him. As he took his first step back to the dying campfire the hairs on the back of his neck raised up and his senses screamed. His brain ordered a rush of adrenaline to his muscles but it was too late. Eddie was already flying through the air. I didn’t even see it coming, he thought.

Eddie landed on his left side and his arm snapped like a dry twig on top of a rock. There was a blinding pain and Eddie looked to see the compound fracture protruding from his left forearm.

“Oh God,” he said as he struggled to stand back up. His first thought was it was bear. His mind raced: escape plans where’s the gun defensive tactics CPR how far was the car how bad am I bleeding is Luke still sleeping

From beyond the camp Eddie heard the growl and his mind and body froze. He saw only the eyes. The angry yellow eyes. From the dark of the woods into the light of the fire stepped a nightmare. Everything in Eddie screamed. His bladder emptied whatever was left from before.

The Werewolf stared at Eddie from the opposite side of the camp. Fully erect it stood 9′ and was as wide as a Volkswagen. The Wolf smelled the urine and fear on Eddie and growled in anticipation.

Where’s my bag, Eddie thought.

The tent flap opened and Luke peered out into the camp and began to scream. The Wolf jerked its head in the direction of Luke. That half second was all Eddie needed to come to his senses and rush the Wolf with everything he had. He hit it mid-sternum like a tackler in an attempt to bring it off its legs. The Wolf didn’t move. Irritated with Eddie’s attempt, the Wolf grabbed him by the chest, its claws piercing Eddie’s lungs and breaking several ribs in process, and raised him to its face. Through the pain Eddie could smell the rotting, infectious breath of the Wolf. Luke continued to scream.

The Wolf slammed Eddie’s body to the ground, breaking his lower back and straddled him. The Wolf mauled Eddie’s chest, ripping clothes, flesh and muscle from him with every bite. Eddie trying frantically to protect himself watched as his own blood dripped from the Wolf’s mouth. He could see pieces of his shirt and skin hanging in-between its teeth.

The Wolf paused and backed away from Eddie on all fours. Eddie watched in panic as its yellow eyes slowly turned red. The Wolf shook with tremors from within and stood up. The Wolf didn’t trust Eddie but it couldn’t contain itself. The howl started in the Wolf’s belly and escaped from its muzzle forcing the blood-smeared head skyward towards the full moon. The sound was deafening.

Don’t pass out, dont pass out, Eddie thought. He saw his bag just within reach of where he lay and took his chance. He reached in with his good arm and felt the cold steel grip of his .45. He could barely even hold it. He pulled the gun out and pointed it at the howling monster. Please God don’t let me miss, Eddie prayed. Eddie squeezed the trigger and unloaded round after round into the massive body of the Wolf. Caught off guard, the shots rolled the Wolf over the dying campfire. Shocked but undeterred, the Wolf regained its footing on all fours and roared at Eddie.

“No,” Eddie whispered.

The Wolf moved its eyes from Eddie to the front of the tent and lunged for Luke.

———————————————————————————————

Eddie roared and reached out for the leaping Wolf that had been there 10 years earlier and buried his claws into his bedroom’s concrete wall, pulling chunks of it onto himself. He rolled out of bed and realized what he’d done and where he was.

Eddie got up from the floor, pulled the sheets from the bed and threw the remaining pieces of concrete on the floor. He didn’t sleep the rest of the night.

David rode the elevator from the Pen back to the surface world. It brought him to an abandoned warehouse just 3 blocks from Giuseppe’s pet store. It was an exit only elevator and the vagrants who slept in the protection of the warehouse never bothered to notice it opening or closing. The odorless gas seeping from the warehouse’s heating vents assured the Agency of that.

Now above ground, David looked as though he belonged in this world but felt he was an actor in a part made for someone else. He believed his touch, as the Agency called it, was the unseen culprit for these thoughts. When younger he was always the odd man out; always a part of the group, but feeling as though he was standing on the outside looking in. No matter what he had tried there seemed to be no right place for him. No where to belong. That was years ago though and his second life had brought all of that to an end.

The sun was beginning to rise by the time he reached his small apartment in New Jersey. He pulled his key ring out to begin the search for the one that fit his front door. He had roughly 15 keys attached and they all looked the same. I’ve got to start labeling these damn things, he though. He found the silver latch key and slipped it into the lock. He entered he unkempt apartment, grabbed a Miller Light longneck from the fridge (right next to the 3 month old milk and half eaten hotdog package) and proceeded to the shower. Chasing down the unspoken things of this world left him feeling a bit dingy at the end of the day.

Once in the shower, David allowed the hot stream of water to run down over his head. He twisted the cap off the beer and took a long drag from the cool brown bottle. The hot water and cold beer mixed in his mouth. David swished it around like mouth wash and swallowed, attempting to quiet the whispered voices in his head. “Here’s to the good times,” he said to himself and took another swig, placing the open beer on the soap holder.

If you lived next to David, you would say he was a quiet guy who was never home. Handlers were loners by trade, mentally raised in an environment beyond their ability to understand or control. The voices usually started around puberty. Many who became Handlers likened the voice sensations to being in a car with an inaudible radio. They knew that a song was playing, even thought they recognized it, but the volume was so low they couldn’t understand what the hell it was. Wanting to know; wanting to hear; wanting to understand. Never reaching that point.

The Agency attempted to identify the touched individuals as early as possible to save them from the madness that awaited them without training and help. Some followed the path into the new world revealed to them. Others attempted to silence the voices through alcohol or drugs, many times both. Some found their lives derailed in mental institutions. Others just silently slipped from the world, labeled just another pour soul who couldn’t take it.

Finishing his beer mixed with shampoo, David got out of the shower and dried off. Exhausted, he walked to the kitchen and opened another longneck and began the search for his little friends. He found the pills on the counter where he’d left them the night before. It was a Tylenol bottle. They looked like Tylenol capsules. It was not Tylenol. David grabbed two, threw them in the back of his mouth and downed them with another dose of beer. He looked at the two bottles he held in his hand as he swallowed. He thought it would be humorous if the Agency started labeling them “Drink Me” and “Eat Me” in some unknown Alice in Wonderland scrawl.

Feeling the effects of the pills almost immediately, David walked to the sink and poured the remainder of the beer over his tooth brush and applied tooth paste. He began to brush, walked to the living room and sat on the couch. He set his alarm for 1:00 p.m.. Eddie hated it when he was late. David didn’t blame him. Without David, Eddie was not allowed out of his quarters. David, not making it to his Sleep Number mattress in the bedroom, collapsed on the couch with thoughts of Eddie running through his head, the beer-bathed tooth brush still resting in his mouth.

———————————————————————————————

David dreamt that early morning and into the afternoon of the dark things he spent his life chasing, real and imagined. He heard the smells and tasted the sounds that surrounded him. “God these pills are great,” he spoke to no one as vapors before him became ghosts of the past, then faded as quickly as they’d come. The faces were twisted and distorted. He strained his eyes to see them. Yelling into the dark, he called for Eddie. Things not alive, yet not dead, crawled through the marsh David was standing in, reaching for his mud soaked feet; dark Wolves circled the perimeter, their yellow eyes having turned red with blood-rage; demons and lower devils, whispering in angry tongues, threatened him in a language he couldn’t understand. They were closer and closer, yet distant at the same time. All the servants of the deadly master stood around David, waiting for something. The voices in his head grew quiet then the snarl from behind. How in the world did he sneak up on me, David thought as he turned on his heels. The last thing he remembered were Eddie’s red eyes and open jaws at his throat.

———————————————————————————————

David, startled out of his medicated dream, fell off the couch with the sound of the alarm only minutes away. He had wet himself again (an unfortunate side effect of the Agency’s “Tylenol”) and lost his toothbrush. When he found it in between the cushions, it was covered in materials only the secret world of couch gnomes could identify. David tossed it in the trash and got ready for the night.

———————————————————————————————

Katie Francisco woke that Wednesday morning with a splitting head ache. The throbbing in her temples was a result of 3 too many glasses of wine the night before. She had started around the time Eddie and David began to hunt for the demon that ended with its ashes blowing into the city sewer. The drinking ended 4 hours later. The piles of papers in her home office were stacking up and she was beginning to fall behind. What’re a couple glasses of wine between me and some legal contracts, she thought as she had poured her first glass of Riesling.

After the camping weekend 10 years earlier her life had fallen into oblivion. She felt she had lost everything and found herself not getting out of bed in the morning. With her parents gone and no brothers or sisters, Katie’s friends and work attempted to bring her out of the depression. There was no success. In the end, she lost her job at the law firm she had worked so hard to get in with and her friends felt they did all they could, then one by one they left to return to their own lives.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, she would ask why this horrible event happened to her and receive no response. No answer from the mighty ceiling fan in the sky, she would joke and then find she was curled up in bed unable to stop sobbing. She would lie in bed for hours and look at albums of Eddie, Luke and herself, forgetting to eat and then fall asleep with them beside her.

In time she sold the house she and Eddie had bought, unable to bare the financial burden without a job and moved into a smaller apartment on Long Island. The move helped ease the pain of her loss and she started working with a small attorney helping people with bankruptcies.

She started small and took one step at a time to regain her life. Her boss retired and sold the law office to her after a few years and she grew the firm larger by moving outside of bankruptcies and hired two other lawyers. Her small apartment turned into a small house. New loves came and went. Life moved on.

Now, as she sipped a glass of water to help swallow her aspirin, she sat down at her desk in the living room to prepare for the morning. She had taken the day off to allow her enough time to complete more personal tasks that she had put off for far too long. She pulled out her address book and began to jot down the names of friends and family, new and old.

After all, Luke’s high school graduation was approaching, and she needed to have him send out invitations to everyone they knew.

———————————————————————————————

Eddie lay on the ground bleeding to death by the campfire. With all the strength he had left, he jerked the .45 in the direction of the leaping Werewolf and prayed he hadn’t emptied the clip. The last round exploded in the gun and spiraled toward the blood-soaked head of the Wolf. The Wolf’s left eye exploded like a jelly-filled water balloon and twisted its body in mid-air. The beast landed on its side already scratching at the white pain screaming in its head and rolled on the ground before Luke. The boy, in shock, sat silently staring at the thing snarling before him. The Wolf, admitting its defeat and wanting no more of the business end of Eddie’s gun ran into the woods to lick its wounds.

“Luke,” Eddie cried out. Luke, now crying, didn’t move.

“Luke,” Eddie called out. He was growing weaker. Luke poked his head out of the tent, eyes wide in fear.

“Come here, Luke.”

Luke rose and ran to Eddie with tears rolling down his face.

“Luke, listen to me, ok?” Luke nodded.

“I want you to take the keys and run to the truck. If you see someone along the way, get help. If not, turn the car on and call 911 on the phone.” Eddie’s breathing was becoming labored.

“I can’t daddy,” Luke said, regressing into a helpless child.

“Luke, I need you to go now and get help. If…

(don’t die yet)

… you see someone along the way get help. If not, call 911. Can you…

(not in front of my son, God)

… can you do that?” Eddie was having trouble breathing.

“I don’t wanna go daddy.”

“Luke you need to go. Go now…” Eddie could feel the blood pooling under his useless arms.

“Daddy….” Luke was sobbing.

(hold on)

“Go and get help Luke.” Luke grabbed the keys from the bag, bawling, and turned to look at his dying father one last time. He turned and ran into the forest.

30 year old Eddie Francisco, veteran of the New York City Police Department, loyal husband and loving father took his last breath as a man and died alone, staring down the wooded path of the Maine forest.

Long after Eddie and David’s departure for the evening, Handlers and the Werewolves intermingle in the Pen. There is a sad sense of camaraderie. Friendships are formed out of their own tragic lives and misguided destinies. Associations and partnership are a necessity between the two groups. They are an unfortunate army intertwined in a paranormal social labyrinth hidden 20 stories below the streets of New York.

Within the Pen’s steel and concrete structure, elevator doors on the parameter open and close, welcoming the city’s unknown warriors to what may or may not be their last tour. The Pen’s ceiling rises 40 feet above the concrete floor and is covered with cameras and various automated weapons. There are no cubicles, desks or chairs, just an open area watched by the Agency’s own security men on a catwalk 30 feet above the floor. There are 19 doors around the Pen’s walls. One door leads to the garage where the Handlers and Wolves depart throughout the evening and enter the city. Days are spent within the tunnels and sewers of New York, continuing the work of the Agency.

Another larger door, which locks behind you as you enter, leads to the Wolves quarters. This is where we would find Eddie digging his powerful fingers into the concrete wall next to his bed. There are 5 sub-levels of apartments, 20 apartments per level, all with artificial lighting to provide a realistic existence for those who are in held during the day. All utilities and systems for the apartments are controlled 10 stories above the Pen. It is as comfortable as a controlled environment can be. It wasn’t built to be their prison but to save them and the others they work with. Handlers are discouraged from entering unless extreme circumstances warrant it. It is the Wolves and Wolves alone.

The remaining 17 doors within the Pen open to elevator shafts that drop Wolves and Handlers to other parts of the installation. There is a hospital, cafeteria, gym, and entertainment facilities just to name a few. The most important of these floors: the libraries.

Two different elevators are used to reach the two different sub-floors that make up the libraries. Library 1 is for general use. There you will find a floor that stores one of the world’s largest literature and periodical collections.

Library 2 is protected by an elevator that does not open for just anyone. Its double-steel reinforced doors are guarded from the ceiling by its own set of cameras and automated weapon systems. Three keys are needed to open these doors. One of the keys is held by Handlers, the 2nd by the Chief of security, Emil Kruegar and the 3rd and final key is held by the Operations Captain and direct liaison to the Agency. His code name is Michael. Since the creation of the New York installation, there has been 22 Michaels total. Michael, for his own protection, is rarely seen. If he is, he does not carry the key.

Once the elevator door is open only 3 individuals are allowed on. The shaft drops 22 stories from the Pen to Library 2. It is a room filled with books and manuscripts detailing magic, the history of the Werewolf and the rise of the dark creatures the Wolves hunt.

There is a book in an unobvious corner of the room: book 27b-12.154. It has a standard leather binding and looks dusty underneath the cold light of Library 2. There is no name on the side. It cannot be removed from the shelf but if you were to hold your hand on it and allow the tiny computer hidden in its pages to verify your biorhythms the floor beneath the first table to the left of the elevator door would reveal a descending staircase. The stairs lead to a temperature/light/humidity controlled room. At the base of the stairs sits a box of latex gloves to protect the one book located in the center of this room: Die Lange Dunkelheit.

In the un-numbered pages written by hand and older than the bindings in which it was placed before man’s Dark Age, there is a page titled Die Wölfe und ihre Inkarnationen. The scribbled drawings of the German scribe’s weathered hand lay out the words on which the Agency’s knowledge is based:

“Before history’s distorted time, there have been men who live as Wolves and their various incarnations.

“The Animal, which lives among the creatures of God as the WerWolf, has lost the memory of its former self before its fall. The converted man lives as the beast of the wild never to return. Its natural instinct is to hunt man. It cannot be tamed nor reasoned. There is only hate in its blood-soaked eyes. The creature is to be destroyed. All powers of the beast on bestowed upon it.

“The Deceiver lives among mortal men as a man, but inside hides the WerWolf. At will the man may call upon the Wolf and alter his form. During this change there is great pain. Once a Wolf, all powers of the beast are bestowed upon him. The man is aware of the wolf and the wolf of the man. Only the full moon changes the man outside of his will. The man relinquishes his God-given form at this time.

“The Condemned live as the WerWolf, in full knowledge of what has happened to them and who they were, never to return to their God-given form. In madness they may lose this knowledge and live among God’s creatures as the Animal. As the Condemned they can be tamed and reasoned. All powers of the beast are bestowed upon him.

“The full moon and man’s spilt blood bring the rage to all forms of the beast. Beware the Wolves rage.

Around 10pm, the night of David’s dream and unfortunate (but expected) bed-wetting, a young man by the name of John Piper found his way into a Hell’s Kitchen manhole with his new partner Jose Montiagro. An employee of the NYC Sewer Department, Jose had been working for the city going on 15 years and everyday in a NYC sewer was a day full of surprises. After starting the job years ago he thought the shock of what he found in the sewers would wear off. It didn’t.

“Oh my gawd!” John exclaimed in his deep southern drawl as he entered his first city sewer. Jose smiled as he initiated his rookie into the underground realm of human filth and trash. John had moved to NYC from Athens, Georgia to become an actor, but instead found trouble getting work on and off the stage. A friend had gotten him the entry level position. John was now considering hunger and homelessness a better option.

Jose reached the bottom of the 20 ft. ladder and stepped into the murky, disease ridden water of the sewer. Above him John was gagging and attempting to not throw up on Jose.

“I told you man, you gotta use this crap on your nose when you crawl into one of these holes.” Jose pulled out the jar of jelly that is used in autopsy rooms across the world. If it helped the doctors, it would surely help the lowly men affectionately called Sewer Rats. John reached the bottom of the ladder and stepped into the brackish water that was as thick as oil. As he turned, John retched again and threw up. Jose stepped back to keep the splashing puke from getting on his rubber jumper. Once he was finished, Jose grabbed him by the front of the jumper and wiped a glob of the scented jelly under his nose. Both men looked as though the world’s worst nose-blowing incident had just occurred on their upper-lips.

“That’s bettuh. Thanks,” John said as he spit the rest of his dinner into the filth below.

Jose pulled out his map and pen light to find out which way they were supposed to head. The sewer system was backed up somewhere in the tunnels below the street and the department needed to send men in to find out where. The water and smells that emited from it were seeping into the basements of the apartment buildings and businesses. The phones had been ringing off the hook.

“Let’s check down here first,” Jose said pointing to the Eastern Tunnel. John looked over Jose’s shoulder to see that the tunnel was at least a mile in length with what seemed like an infinite number of branches connecting to it.

“You mean we gotta check all them tunnels,” John asked.

“Until we find the right one with the blockage. There may even be more than one. Who knows down here,” Jose said.

John’s heart dropped a little. He was looking for a job to make easy money until easy street came along. John had always thought of himself as a good lookin’ boy with a sweet southern drawl. At least that’s what all the ladies said. And boy had he taken full advantage of that, yes sir. But about a year ago he’d decided it was time to see how far his looks and charm really could take him. He’d literally flipped a coin to decide where he’d move. Heads: LA. Tails: New York. Stupid coin, John thought as he spit out the last bile-soaked chunk left in his mouth.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” Jose said as he turned on his helmet light. John did the same and followed him into the long, dark tunnel. It didn’t take long for John to realize that the tunnels were large enough to walk through, but not comfortably. The concrete culverts buried beneath the city were 6′ high and wide and anyone taller than 5′8″ (and wearing a helmet) spent their time in the maze bent over like a hunchback. After an hour or so, the workers would have to retreat to the surface to stretch out their aching backs and necks.

After a half hour of walking/slumping through the tunnel, John asked Jose if they could rest a moment. Jose agreed and rechecked his map and location. So far there was nothing in the tunnels that was out of the ordinary: garbage and rats a plenty.

Jose broke the silence first. “Ok. This is where we are,” he said and leaned over to show John the map. John, not really caring where they were as much as when they were leaving, slipped on the slime below the surface water as he moved to see the map and almost knocked Jose face first into the thick black sewer water.

“Watch it man!” Jose shouted at him. “If we fall in this crap we’ll stink for a month!”

“Sorry,” John said.

John attempted to readjust his footing again, slipped on the same slime and fell pulling Jose down with him. Both men, cursing like sailors now, had been able to avoid their heads dipping below the 1 ft. deep water. Jose considered knocking John out right then and leaving him for the rats when he realized he’d ldropped the map. Frantic, Jose moved aside the floating garbage only to find the map covered in mud, hair and filth. It was soaked and unreadable.

“S&*%!” Jose shouted. He was on fire.

“Aw shee-it…” John said in his phonetically challenged tongue. In truth, he was a bit glad the map was ruined. Maybe it meant they were going to be leaving this hell hole soon and returning to the surface where he would get cleaned up and find a nice New York girl to talk to for the night.

“Wut now?” he asked.

Jose was still seething. “Were gonna toss away this map you’ve just ruined and get the hell out of here. From what I remember the next man hole is probably only a couple of hundred feet ahead.”

Jose turned and continued down the dark tunnel, all the while flinging whatever was attached to his arms and body against the sewer wall. John followed.

“Don’t walk so close to me!” Jose barked.

John, more than happy to oblige, allowed a few more feet to separate him from Jose, a now very angry Puerto Rican. John would have called him a Perda Reek’n.

The sewers below the streets are quiet in the evening. Only the occasion rush of a car above or rat below would disturb the night’s humid, stench filled tranquility. Jose and John continued to walk bent over toward the next manhole.

John, still safely keeping his distance, called to Jose to let him know he needed to take a leak. Jose stopped and waved his hand back at John, cussing in Spanish. John fumbled with the zipper of the jumper and awkwardly positioned the top portion on his hips to keep it from falling into the dark water at his feet. He then unzipped and looked down the side tunnel in front of him as his stream began.

“What the hell iz ‘at?” he asked Jose.

“It’s your damn Pride and Joy you stupid hick. Get it over with, let’s go.”

“Not my weiner ya dumb Perda Reek’n! What’s THAT?” John asked pointing down the side tunnel.

Jose, getting angrier by the second, waded toward John and realized the water was deeper in this area of the tunnel than it was behind them. Jose peered down the side culvert and stared, unsure of what he was seeing.

“Qué el infierno…?” Jose said.

Jose proceeded down the tunnel and the stench became more rancid with every step. 15 feet after entering the side shaft Jose saw the massive blockage almost to the top of the tunnel and at least 20 feet deep. It seemed to be well constructed dam covered in mud. At least Jose hoped it was mud.

“Come look at this!” Jose said.

John finished his business and sloshed down the side tunnel. Jose shone his helmet light as far back as he could. At the end of the dam, he could see water rolling at the top, lapping against the structure.

“I think we’ve found our problem,” Jose said.

John didn’t hear a word Jose said. He was looking down at the base of the dam and noticed something shining in the light of his lamp. He reached around Jose and pulled on it.

“Look at this,” he said to Jose.

Jose looked down and noticed the shining glass object that was begin tugged at by the hick. John pulled a little harder, there was a snap and the object came lose. He held up before his face and realized it wasn’t mud that was caking the damn. He began to wipe away the excrement from the ring.

“Lookee here Jose! Lookeeeee here! Look what I got!” he shouted in his new partner’s face. “It’s a gen-u-wine, one of a kind, diiiiiiiamond ring!”

Jose stared into the face of John, not out of amazement but out of shock. He grabbed the ring out of John’s hand and looked closer.

“Hey!” John shouted. “Give that back! It’s mine.”

Jose hadn’t noticed until the hillbilly had thrown it in his face, but attached to John’s gen-u-wine diamond ring, was a black, filth covered finger that was rotting from the inside out. The snap he’d heard was the decaying bone breaking when John pulled it away. Jose threw the finger into the water, turned and dug deep into the dam wall with his hands. Chunks of the filth began to break and splash into the water below. Beneath the exposed areas, Jose saw black, swollen arms with hands reaching out into nothing. Faces staring at him with empty eye sockets, mouths open in a silent scream. A child in a Sunday dress, blood spattered and torn.

Jose stumbled back into John and knocked them both down. Jose regained his feet first and scrambled for the opening at the end of the tunnel. John fell face first into the water and took a gulp. He raised his head spit out the disease-filled liquid and followed Jose out the tunnel, struggling for breath. Both men were sprinting, crouched over, toward the manhole cover they hoped existed in front of them. With hearts pounding and adrenaline rushing through their veins, the visions of the stacked corpses flashed in their minds like a strobe light in a nightmare. The lamps on their helmets danced on the ceiling and water as the waded in the ever deepening water.

A deep grumble echoed down the corridor in front of them, stopping the terrified men in their tracks. John’s thoughts raced and he wondered who the hell was dumb enough to bring a Harley into the sewer. The water began to stir and seconds later, small, insignificant ripples of waves were moving toward them. Everything in their blood screamed to run but they were paralyzed; dilated eyes staring into the dark tunnel before them. The sound of sloshing water and moving trash was in the darkness just in front of them. Their helmet lights exposed only the water-stained ceiling. John dared to lower his head just an inch to see what could make such a horrible noise. The grumble that had echoed before became a terrifying growl. John turned and fled back down the main corridor, head bent, eyes wild, screaming.

Jose stood helpless, staring at the light from his helmet shinning on the water-stained ceiling. He began to pray the Lord’s Prayer in Spanish as he dropped his eyes into the darkness the sewer offered him. The sloshing moved a closer, faster, and Jose fell back into the water. Crawling from the darkness into the light of Jose’s lamp was a black Werewolf on all fours. Its crawling body was too large for the 6 foot sewer tunnel and Jose could see its fur and skin had been scraped away on its shoulders and back, exposing the Werewolf’s bone and muscle to the damp sewer air. It wasn’t water stains on the ceiling the helmet lights had exposed earlier, but blood from this Wolf’s bleeding back. Jose turned over on his hands and knees and began to slowly crawl away from the Wolf through the water. He was whimpering his mothers name below his breath as tears rolled down his dirt stained cheeks.

“How pathetic…” the Wolf growled.

Jose stopped, and rolled onto his back and lay in the water facing the oncoming Wolf. Its hands and forearms were white, but stained with the mud of the sewer floor they were the color of a deep yellowish-brown infection.

“You must be such a disappointment to your family,” the Wolf said lowering his head, looking into Jose’s waxen face with its yellow eyes.

Jose, in shock, didn’t move.

“Your not very vocal are you?” the Wolf mocked.

Jose began to scream with a fear he had never known before.

“Much better,” said the Wolf.

Jose’s death was painful.

———————————————————————————————

John heard Jose screaming behind him and it froze the blood running through his body. He began to whimper and cry as he moved down the shaft towards the manhole he had previously entered. He would trip and fall, then right himself again with the filth and trash of the sewer infiltrating his eyes and mouth.

He had to be getting closer to the entrance, John kept telling himself. He had already started to make plans in his head on sub-leasing his apartment and moving back to Georgia where there were less Perta Reek’ns and dark sewers stopped up with dead bodies.

Go faster! his mind screamned. Go faster!

John, not thinking twice, obeyed and ran even faster than he thought capable.

Behind him a howl echoed down the sewer tunnel and John began to cry even louder as he waded through the sewage. The chase was on. He was going as fast as he could and now heared the galloping slosh of water and crushed garbage echoing down the tunnels in the distance behind him. Please gawd, John thought, please lemme outta this hole alive. John was running trying to hold his neck at all angles to keep it from cramping. The noise behind was getting louder and the sound of raspy breath had been added to the mix along with 6″ claws scraping against the concrete floor below the black water.

John turned a corner and saw about 100 feet in front of him was a beam of light streaming down through the manhole cover he had entered this evening. He threw off his helmet and ran with his face forward toward the beam, his neck muscles spasming. The top of his head began to bleed from banging against the ceiling. The blood was running down through his brown, dirt caked hair and onto his cheeks and chin.

He reached the ladder and slipped in the mud and puke. He fell on his back and grabbed his left ankle. He had sprained it in the fall.

Get up! No time! he thought. No time!

John listened and stood with the help of a ladder rung. He was covered in the oily water and slime from the sewer floor and looked down the dark tunnel. The sounds were increasing in volume. It sounded like the Wolf was there, just in the distance, maybe getting ready to round the corner. His neck muscles were squirming beneath the skin and his ankle started swelling in his boot. He turned his gaze toward the night sky and began to climb. He tried to put pressure on the twisted ankle, but it was useless. He used his upper body and right leg to climb. He was half way up the ladder when John’s good foot slipped, sending him sliding down the ladder a two rungs. He banged his chin on one, biting off the end of his tongue before he caught himself. The crying was now sobbing and John began to panic. With blood pouring from his head and mouth he gripped the ladder again and began to climb the remaining distance to the street. He might have even made it had he not taken time to look back over his shoulder.

Below, looking up at John, was the red-eyed Wolf with its bleeding shoulder blades and backbone. It’s been there all along watching me climb, he thought. John, frozen, looked below into the red eyes staring back at him. Jose’s blood dripped from its jowls. The Werewolf, barely changing position, rose and stood erect staring eye to eye with John, who had only been a few feet from freedom on the 20 ft. ladder. The Wolf, with a low growl, grabbed John around his waist and pulled him off the ladder. John, without struggling, began to whimper and somewhere in the back of the raging Wolf’s mind this made him happy.

The Wolf sat John down on the floor of the sewer and reached up out of the manhole and pulled the lid back in place. The street light that had once been shinning on John Piper’s dirty face was now eclipsed by the circular metal cover above. It had taken both he and Jose an to lift it from its position to enter the sewer. The Werewolf moved it as if it was just a serving plate. Darkness filled the concrete entrance to the tunnels. Only small streams of streetlight fell from the manhole cover into the water below.

The Wolf dropped to one knee and looked at John’s face. He was staring back with quiet tears in his eyes. The Wolf taking his claw-filled right hand turned it palm up before John. He never noticed. He was staring into the eyes of the Wolf that were swimming with blood. The Werewolf jerked his elbow back, thrust his hand forward as a spear and drove it through John’s midsection and out the back. Pulling it back through, the Wolf spread his fingers wide, cutting through whatever was left that held the top of John’s body to the bottom.

John’s torso, falling into the oily water at the bottom of the sewer, landed head-up leaning against the wall. While his heart pumped its last few beats, John’s watched as the Wolf feasted on his twitching right leg. As it ate, the Wolf stood erect and roared at something, yet nothing, above the protection of the manhole cover. The last thing John Piper thought, as his life slipped away in the presence of a nightmare, was that he should have moved to L.A.

The Wolf continuted to feast beneath the man-hole cover long after John Piper’s last heart-beat. His eyes, gorged with blood, looked to the round entrance of the street and continued to eat. He was being watched and his own eyes were being used against him, but the kill was fresh and he dared not leave it behind for the rats. He kept his head down, eating; all the while his eyes roamed the surface watching those who watched him.

After having had his fill, the Wolf moved to safer surroundings. He left the clothes from John’s lower half floating in the sewer water, but grabbed the untouched torso by the head, placed it in his massive jaws and crawled into the tunnel. The blood of Jose and John left the dingy metallic flavor in the Wolf’s mouth and it was continuing his rage. Beginning to sprint down the corridors, the Wolf didn’t feel the skin itching on his back and shoulders as it regenerated over the damaged areas; nor was the pain of it being re-scraped away from his body and bones noticable as he picked up speed in the cramped waterway.

The Wolf reached his human cadavar dam and gently placed the new kill in place. He retreived the body of Ju as well and did the same. The blood-rage was subsiding and he was beginning to feel his senses return to normal. He was regaining control. As his eyes slowly faded from red to yellow, he took another long look at the faces fading from view and stared at them with a burning hatred. He could see their eyes condemning him. If I ever find you, the Wolf thought, the first thing I’ll do is tear your damned eyes out one…

———————————————————————————————

by one,” they heard him say. Ten Merrick’s sat quietly in the plush room three levels below the Main Hall of the Pen. Their cataract-blinded eyes fixated into empty space, but watching with full knowledge of what had just taken place in the Hell’s Kitchen sewer ducts. From the moment the Wolf tasted the blood of Jose, their power cried out for them to see the unspeakable actions of the Wolf in the sewer. Though the horror of what they witnessed terrified them, they could not look away. The power drew their minds and opened their eyes to see.

As the scene of Jose and John’s deaths unfolded, they called out their visions to the control room and spoke the details of the location in a tone that would lead you to believe they were drugged. Immediately, the mainframe began to search through the countless maps and descriptions of sewer tunnels beneath the city and the schedules of inspections. The men’s clothes were cross-referenced with city workers, their various boroughs, the districts within them, then finally accessing all possible individuals from the city’s own database. The whole time, the Merrick’s eyes searched for the clues. Only once the Wolf reached John in his fruitless climb to the street did they stand and cry out:

“BHK3496! BHK3496!”

John nor the Wolf had noticed, but scrawled into the wall in various locations at the entrance to the sewer tunnels was the marking left by the Pen. THe code gave the exact location of the man-hole cover. The system sent an alarm to the sergeant on duty. He checked the location and saw a Handler/Wolf team was 20 minutes away. He barked the location through the radio and the Handler laid his foot to the floor and sped to the now closed man-hole cover. Meanwhile, the Merricks maintained watch, seeking identifying clues, calling out all they saw and witnessed.

The rouge Wolves at the beginning of a blood rage paid no attention to the blind eyes that watched them. The desire for the kill was too great and their hearts pounded with excitement. Only once the rush subsided would they feel the stares; notice their eyes wandering to areas they didn’t command them to go. The Wolves had control over their bodies, but had to fight their eyes as the Merricks used them. Time was limited. Once the Wolves’ blood rage ended, so did the Merrick’s vision. The rouge Wolves were free to roam again, and the Merricks returned to the darkness of their useless eyes.

———————————————————————————————

By the time the rage of the Wolf had subsided, the Handler and Wolf were on their way. The Wolf, having carefully placed his trophies against the dam, decided it was time to leave. He crawled through the tunnels to the hole in the sewer wall that led to a seperate line no longer used. After winding through the empty sewer maze, another entrance opened to an abandoned subway line that ran parallel to the sewer. The line was guarded by various gates and doors which eventually opened to the surface world. From here the Wolf was free to come and go.

As the Handler and Wolf entered the underground labyrinth far behind him, the rouge Wolf was already long gone; his trail washed away by the water of the sewer. He made his way unhindered through the various twisting and turning corridors until he reached the subway tunnel. The Werewolf had enough of crawling for the evening. He exited the sewer into the subways track area and stood, stretching his muscles as he walked across. He sniffed the air for intruders. Only the rats, he thought.

With uncanny power he lept over the useless tracks, a good 25 feet, and landed on the platform. He stood and looked at himself and began to clean his filth soaked fur with long strokes of his tounge. Long, long ago men and women stood on this concrete floor and waited to be whisked awaw into the dark tunnels, leaving for another area of the city. I’d have killed them all, the Wolf thought as he continued to clean himself.

After an hour, the Wolf was satisfied with his bath. He walked to the corner of the platform away from the tracks where he found the garbage bag he had left before. He hated what was coming, but knew what had to be done. Given the chance, he would stay a Wolf forever, but the otherside of him knew the dangers of being caught and eventually killed. It was safer to spend time hidden among the men of the world, than to live forever looking over your shoulder as a Wolf.

The Werewolf dropped to all fours and waited. His heart picked up pace and his eyes dialated into black disks. A sharp heat began to run from the top of his head to the back of his hips. It was like have a white-hot knife run down your back, burning and cutting at the same time. The Wolf squinted and gritted his teeth in pain. Slowly the skin along the back of his body split and curled away from his spine like paper in a fire. The Wolf gripped his hands into the concrete, tearing chunks out as the transformation continued. The skin flaps fell over the sides of his ribs and pain encompassed the Wolf’s body and mind. As the flesh peeled away, it became dry as leather. The outer layer of the Wolf fell from his sides and down his legs, tearing off with ease. There was no blood spilled, only a paper-thin pelt, once thick with power and fur floated to the ground. The last of the Wolf’s flesh fell to the ground and what remained on the subway platform was a large black man, 6′ 8″ and 340 lbs, on his hands and knees. His massive muscles shook from the trauma of the transormation. He was competely naked and his skin was dry and dusty from the change. His arms and hands bore the scars of terrible burns. He rose to his feet. As in all transformations, all the skin falls away but that of the Wolf’s head. The man reached up and removed the now over-sized Wolf mask as he’d done a thousand times before and looked at it with a morbid curiosity. He tossed it aside with the rest of the skin.

The man walked to the garbage bag at the corner of the platform and opened it up. Inside were his street clothes. He had worn underwear, jeans and a t-shirt along with socks and shoes into the tunnels earlier that night. He dressed and chastised himself for the evenings events. He’d never be able to return to those sewer lines. They were necessary kills tonight, but he had exposed his obvious location to those who could see him and now it was too dangerous to return.

He began to leave when he noticed he’d forgotten something. He walked back to the folded trash bag and opened it. There in the bottom of it was his golden wedding ring. He grabbed the ring and slipped it on his finger. He refolded the trashbag and placed it back again.

As the man unlocked the rusted subway gate to exit through another set of tunnels, he looked back over his shoulder. He saw that the Wolf’s skin was already disintigrating into a pile of dust. The man smiled, locked the gate behind him and began the long trek back to the world above.

David caught the subway and made his way towards The Pen to release Eddie and begin another day’s work. He attempted to use a different route everyday as he was instructed, sometimes backtracking over his own path two or three times, but in the end there were only so many ways to skin a cat. He was assigned a different order every week on where and when to enter and exit the underground facility. The Pen had many entrances and exits but he only knew of the ones he was told about.

Once, by chance, he had seen a fellow Handler on the street and followed him for a time out of curiosity to see where his entrance and exit point was. From a distance he followed him into a run down motel. On the third floor at the end of a hallway, the Handler entered a closet and closed the door. Five minutes passed and David decided to check it out. When he opened the door, there was nothing but a mop and a bottle of bleach. He had looked for the entrance, pressed what he thought might be panel doors. Nothing moved. Later when he got to work, he was severely reprimanded for his actions. How they had known, he had no idea, but from that moment on he knew The Pen’s eyes were everywhere.

As he turned down an open-ended alley to ensure possible tails weren’t hiding among citizens, the voices in his head began to return. He reached into the brown leather jacket and pulled out the pills. He opened the top and threw two back on his tongue. Their bitter taste caused him to wince and grit his teeth. He swallowed them dry and looked over his shoulder. No one there. He jumped in a back alley door enclave for a few minutes and waited. When he peeked out, there was still no one. He continued his way to the warehouse entrance where the elevator would return him to his partner.

————————————————————————————————————

Eddie was reading in his room when the latches released on the steel door. He put the book down and waited for the door to open. The Pen may have called them apartments, but Eddie knew better. In the end they were just comfortable cages.

The door swung wide and David stood there with his hand still on the identification pad to verify him as Eddie’s partner. The technology used to open the apartments was second to none. There was a hand scan, eye scan, biorhythm analyzer, and voice identification. If any one of the four failed, the facility was placed on shut down and guards would flood the hallways of the already well-guarded Wolf quarters.

“Morning Eddie,” David said.

Eddie stood up and stretched. “Morning. You ready for another day?”

David noticed the concrete hole in the wall and the supporting rebar twisted inside it.

“What’s that,” David asked.

“That? That’s nothing,” Eddie replied and pushed back the thick brown fur on the top of his head. Though years had gone by, he still maintained many of his human mannerisms; vanity being his favorite. He attempted to change the subject.

“How was sleep,” Eddie asked and walked past David into the hallway. He couldn’t wait to get out of the room. David looked at Eddie as he passed then back into his apartment and then back to the chunks of concrete piled on the floor. “I pissed myself again. That’s how sleep was.” Eddie didn’t respond.

“Come on, let’s go,” Eddie said. David was still looking into the room.

“You wanna talk about that,” David asked pointing to the concrete. Eddie had great respect for David, and both knew each other in and out. They were the best partners either had ever had, but right now he had no desire to talk.

“Nope, I sure don’t. I want out of this hallway. Let’s go.” Eddie turned and walked away, leaving David to follow a few steps behind. He decided he wouldn’t push the subject now. Eddie was always cranky in the morning, or in this case afternoon.

The Pen was bustling with Wolves and their Handlers as the shift change began. Eddie and David headed for the elevator that led to the Briefing Room. Updates would be discussed (including their early morning encounter with a certain demon in the park), and the days schedule and orders would be passed out.

Eddie and David entered the freight elevator with two other sets of partners: Michael Hattenbaum (the only Jewish Handler David knew of) and his light-brown partner Henry McGavin and Handler Steven Rodriguez along with Wolf Owen Cook. The Wolf McGavin was known to have a short fuse and a bad attitude. The elevator was tense with his presence. The scars on his body reflected the countless scraps he’d gotten into with other Werewolves within the confines of The Pen. His previous Handler had died on duty and many believed this was a major cause for his problem. Hattenbaum’s ability had matched with McGavin and since then the Wolf had been less trouble; however, you wouldn’t believe it with the intensity bellowing from his yellow eyes.

The elevator carried them down to the 4^th level below the Pen. There among the many hallways that led to many unmarked doors was the Briefing Room. They entered the circle-shaped room and looked for a seat. The room was roughly 50 feet in diameter and the ceiling rose 20 feet to a dome shape curving to the supporting walls. The seats where the Handlers and Wolves sat looked down onto the floor as if it were an arena.

After five minutes, two guards entered and Colonel James followed. He was dressed in his fatigues and his silver-plated Colt .45 hung from the left hip just above the knee. He was clean shaven and square jawed. Everything was straight and in place. If there were a living embodiment of what a U.S. soldier was supposed to look like the Colonel was a leading candidate.

“Good afternoon gentlemen,” the Colonel announced from the center of the room.

“Good afternoon,” the Handlers and Wolves responded.

“The Overnights were quiet,” Colonel James said. He was getting right to work. “We had one red-zone elimination. Carter and Francisco, I’ll need your report by the end of the shift.”

A response wasn’t necessary from them. The Colonel didn’t allow time anyway.

“At twenty-three hundred hour last evening the Merricks reported a vision of a black rouge Wolf in BHK3496. The Merricks have witnessed him numerous times before, but never in such great detail. You’ll find his file in the briefing we are passing out. Two city workers were murdered and upon further investigation we discovered another forty-two civilian bodies in a Stacking within the tunnels.”

The Briefing Room was a vacuum of silence. Stackings were expected with urban-based Wolves, but the sheer number of murders without discovery was highly unusual. The guards who accompanied the Colonel began to distribute briefs.

“The size of the Wolf is estimated at 12 feet. He is all black with white forearms; we believe the white arms are more than likely due to damage to his human skin rather than random fur coloration.

“The Merricks lost him shortly after he reached his Stacking. Once a unit arrived, we attempted to follow his trail underground, yet are still unable to discover tracks or entrance and exit points. This leads us to believe he has a vast knowledge of the sewer system and subways tunnels below the city and has been traveling within them for quite some time.

“Gentlemen, all indications point to him being a D-Class Wolf. He has above average intelligence and in human form is extremely large. We estimate he is close to 7 feet tall and well over 325lbs. We are beginning a search through the tri-state areas driver’s license bureau to search for matching descriptions. However, for as long as he has stayed hidden from our view we doubt we will find anything as an identifier.

“Effective immediately you will place all other cases and hunts on hold until further notice.” The Colonel slapped his hand with the manila briefing folder. “As of now, you are all units within Operation Blackbird and are on the hunt for this murderer. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” the Handlers and Wolves acknowledged.

“Your separate assignments within the Operation are in your briefs. Read them and be ready. Any questions?

No one said a word.

“Dismissed. Good hunting gentlemen,” the Colonel said as he turned to leave.

The Handlers and Wolves rose from the chairs and left the Briefing Room for another night on the prowl.

David grabbed the manila folder with their assignment inside and pushed it into Eddie’s chest. Eddie took it and began to read.

“You could at least attempt to review the assignment,” the Wolf said.

“My head begins to split with every bullet-pointed direction on the paper.”

Eddie read the military document while David walked down the corridor. He felt a little guilty for not reading the document and leaving the work to Eddie. Eddie had been used to it though. Eddie had trained for it. Eddie was good at it.

David was good at something else. And for him, that provided all the excuse he needed.

———————————————————————————————

“David?”

The boy didn’t move. He sat on the guidance counselor’s couch rubbing his temples.

God, the cigarette smell in here is terrible…

“David,” the counselor said again.

The pain was worse lately. The splitting headaches and sleepless nights were driving him mad. And the voices….

“Davi…”

“YES! YEAH! WHAT,” he shouted at the counselor, just trying to stop the man from speaking so he could focus on ignoring the pain.

The guidance counselor jumped a little in his chair. “I’m sorry David. I don’t mean to make you angry.”

David just sat with his elbows on his knees on the high school counselor’s coffee stained couch continuing to rub his temples and back of his neck.

God, please make the pain go away…

“David, I want to ask you some questions about what’s going on with you so that I can help. Is that ok?”

Of course it is, jack-off, David thought. Just as long as I don’t have to tell you I’m hearing voices and my head feels like an ax is slowly splitting it open.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” David said, eyes closed and continuing to rub.

The counselor opened David’s St. Xavier High School transcripts and began to review. From what the counselor saw David had been a B-average student. He enjoyed athletics. He had friends. He wasn’t a trouble maker. And his life was going down the toilet fast.

During his junior year, David had made the cut and joined the St. X basketball team. Sometime mid-season David’s attitude took a turn in an unforeseen direction and the coach kicked him off. He had become lethargic, argumentative and slowly progressed to fighting with his own teammates. The last straw came when he broke the high school’s all-state center’s jaw after he’d looked at David wrong.

But that was only the beginning.

He couldn’t sleep; he began to lose weight at an alarming rate; he was on and off a pharmacy of medication; his friends abandoned him; his parents would find him crying uncontrollably; his ability to hold a conversation went out the window with various pieces of furniture as his temper would explode without warning or provocation.

But on this day, David Carter sat on the coffee-stained couch in his high school guidance counselor’s office waiting for the police. As the whispered voices spoke and the top of his head was slowly chewed open with rusty saws, Mrs. Walsh, a battle hardened 65 year old math teacher, had dared raise her voice and demand David’s answer to a question he couldn’t have heard even if he wanted to.

He snapped.

From the front row David leaped and grabbed Mrs. Walsh by the throat with both hands and slammed her back against the chalk board. Dust from the board poofed out from behind the teacher’s head when it banged against the dark green board. His hands tightened on her throat and David watched as her eyes bulged from her head.

Students rushed to the front of the room and pulled David off the teacher and held him down as others went for help. While the seconds had ticked away his classmates, still holding him down, watched in fear as David screamed and wept on the cold tile floor.

His sanity was slipping away one whisper at a time.

———————————————————————————————

“What’s on the agenda for today, boss,” David asked Eddie.

“We’re watching various private schools’ basketball games.”

David laughed. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked.

“Nope. Seems the powers-that-be think the guy is of above average intelligence, leading him to make more money and is assumed to be of age to have kids in high school. If he’s got the money and he’s got the kids, he’d more that likely put them in a private rather than public school. If he’s as big as they suspect, the kids are probably big too.

“Hence the basketball games,” David finished.

“You catch on quick,” Eddie said.

“Yeah… you ready for a long night in the truck?”

“Better than being locked in here.”

David didn’t say anything. They stepped on the elevator to take them back to the main floor of the Pen.

———————————————————————————————

The two New Jersey police officers tightened the handcuffs just enough to make sure David’s hands would stay behind his back. The principal, counselor and superintendent were now all in the office watching as David was about to be escorted to the cruiser waiting for him outside.

“Thank you officers,” the principal said.

The policemen didn’t respond as they opened the counselor’s door and escorted David down the hallway.

As he walked the cold floor, David could feel the student’s stares. He knew he frightened them but he didn’t care. He was alone in his pain. His parents had tried to help but all the medication and therapy sessions were useless. The voices had not gotten better and the headaches pounded in his skull with white pain.

“Freak!” one student shouted after David passed. Girls giggled at the taunt. Other students just watched, waiting for another show to erupt.

The cops walked him towards the light of the double doors where a black and white cruiser waited. Their large hands cupping underneath David’s arm pit to control his speed and body movement. They moved forward as machines through the pimple faced teenagers.

One officer on the way to the doors accidentally bumped into a student. The kid’s math book and notebook fell to the floor, scattering his organized assignments in front of him. The student looked up to shout at the cop until he caught the gaze of the still moving officer whose eyes were piercing him. The steel-cold stare froze the students tongue. As the officer turned away, the student decided he’d chose another day to die.

David was unceremoniously shoved into the back of the patrol car as a number of students and handful of teachers watched from behind the glass and mortar of the high school windows and doors. The bell rang in the hallway and everyone moved toward their next class to gossip about the exciting day’s news.

The police car pulled away from the school and onto the street. It started toward the direction of the station.

“How are you feeling?” the passenger-side officer asked David.

David didn’t answer. He was unsuccessfully hiding his tears of pain, embarrassment and fear. He was shaking in the back seat.

“I asked how you are feeling.” The cop was now turned fully around in the seat starring at David through the mesh screen.

David looked up into the officer’s eyes; once filled with cold steel, they were now empty and calm. David felt drawn to the truth was he was held in the officer’s gaze.

“I feel terrible. My head feels like it’s caving in and I’m hearing…” David began to sob. “I’m hearing voices.” The tears from the 17 year old boy’s eyes burned and rolled down his cheeks.

“Caving in or splitting in half?”

“What?” David asked.

“Your head. You said caving in. Does it feel like it’s caving in or splitting in half?”

David had seen a number of cop shows and began to wonder why this cop cared. But David, staring into his eyes, began to speak.

“Splitting in half.”

“The voices. What do they say?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?” the officer asked.

“Nothing.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you David.” The officer said it as a statement, not as a question.

David looked at him through red puffy eyes and knew the answer. He couldn’t lie to this man if his life depended on it.

The officer smiled and turned around in his seat and faced the road ahead.

———————————————————————————————

Five minutes after David’s cruiser-based interrogation began, another black and white police car pulled up in front of his high school. Two officers exited the car and entered the building. They walked into the principal’s office and asked to see the him. As he came out, they immediately guessed something was wrong from the confused look on his face.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” the principal asked.

“We received a call from the high school stating an assault had taken place in a classroom between a student and a teacher?” the first officer said.

“Yes,” the principal said, “but two other officers just handcuffed the student and escorted him out a little more than five minutes ago.”

The second officer left the office without a word and returned to the cruiser to make sure wires weren’t crossed on who was supposed to answer the call of the assault. The first officer explained that these things happen sometimes. No big deal.

It quickly became a big deal when dispatch radioed that the second batch of officers to arrive at the high school that day were the only ones called to the disturbance. After about twenty minutes of he said/she said and a high school administrative staff running around like chickens with their heads cut off, a report was filled out by the second batch of officers concerning a possible kidnapping and number of other offenses.

———————————————————————————————

David and the two men dressed as officers turned off the main road and made their way through a series of alley’s and side streets until they reached a rusted out abandoned factory about 5 miles inland from South Jersey’s Atlantic coast. The driver had spent the entire drive silent, watching his rearview and side mirrors like a hawk. David was completely ambivilous to where they were or what was taking place. His eyes were tight with tears, desperately trying to push back the pain.

The car stopped and the man in the passenger side annouced they were there to David. He opened his eyes and shock and confusion pushed back the pain for a moment.

“This isn’t a police station,” he said.

“No. It’s not,” the man said as he exited the passenger side door. He opened the back door and helped David out of the car. The man pulled out his key ring and reached behind David’s back, unlocking his handcuffs. They opened with a click and David rubbed his wrists.

I should be afraid, David thought. Except he wasn’t.

“No, you shouldn’t be. And you aren’t,” the man from the passenger side said.

David stared at him, not understanding why the man would make such a statement.

“Walk with me a minute David,” the man said.

The man started toward the crumbling building and David followed.

“I am Mr. Smith,” the man said. “It’s not my name and you’ll never see me again after the next five minutes no matter what you choose. Don’t ask me questions. We don’t have time and I don’t have the answers. That is meant for other people. Do you understand?”

David continued to walk with Mr. Smith. He thought for a moment and then answered he understood.

“Good decision,” Mr. Smith answered. “There are going to be men who will pull up in a black conversion van within the next twenty minutes. They know you and they know what you are going through. They have drugs and training that can help ease your pain and voices. They can answer questions, teach you about what causes the voices and pain and what they are for. You have the twenty minutes to decide what to do.”

The reached a guard station out of place among the wreckage of the factory. Mr. Smith opened the door. In the cool February air, a blast of heat escaped the room. They entered and David sat down on the couch.

“If you decide to take their help, they will help you. You must stay in the guard shack. If you are not in the guard shack in twenty minutes when they arrive, you will not be helped or contacted again. The price of their help is steep and once it is accepted you cannot turn back; however, if you leave and refuse their assistance… well, today at school was just a precursor of worse things to come.”

David was staring into the man’s beautiful truth-filled eyes.

“David, do you understand what I have told you?”

David looked back at the idling police car parked 50 ft. away. He believed Mr. Smith and didn’t know why, but in his head he knew he was telling the truth. At this point any help to keep his sanity was well worth the price of admission. Still looking back at the police car David changed his life: “I understand and I believe you.”

“Good. You should. Remember, do not leave the building if you want their help.” Mr. Smith turned away to leave.

“Mr. Smith?”

The man stopped and turned back to David. His cold eyes had returned and they crawled through David’s mind in search of the question before it left his lips.

“They will tell you about people like me,” Mr. Smith said. “But I’m different from you David. You can do something very special. You know I tell you the truth because that’s what I’m about.”

David stared at Mr. Smith. The man in the police uniform pulled the door shut and walked away.

———————————————————————————————

David looked at his blue Swatch he’d gotten for Christmas the year before and counted the seconds ticking by. In the presence of Mr. Smith, the voices and pain had moved to the back of his mind, almost as if the conductor of the train ordered them to the caboose. Now that he was gone though, the villains wanted the dark engine back again and were slowly creeping forward. The dull pain was moving from between his shoulder blades into the base of his neck.

As minutes ticked by, questions began to pound in David’s head and heart. What were these men going to do to him? What would his mom and dad say when he told them what had happened? Where would they take him? What was he doing?

In the end though he realized Mr. Smith was telling the truth. And though doubt and anxiety had entered the picture, he hung on the words of what he would later call a Truth-Teller. Always telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth… no matter what the cost to them or those they interogate, he would think as he would watch them work from the opposite-side of one way glass.

As the nineteenth minute ticked by, the screaming pain in his head had returned with a vengence. It road a roller coaster around and around the inside of his skull…. The tears weren’t optional this time. The hurt was so bad he though he would die there in the shed of the adandoned factory.

I DON’T CARE WHAT THEY DO, his mind screamed. JUST MAKE IT STOP! David could see the mad grin of the conductor operating the deadly ride in his head, laughing as it went in and out of his skull and eyes then down his spine. David screamed in the booth. He wanted to run and find a tall building to leap from. The pain would end and he could finally rest after months of torture.

As if it heard his call, a black van pulled into factory’s parking lot. It drove toward the booth. David was laying on the couch in agony, unaware of its presence.

It pulled up to the guard station and a man in khakis and a blue oxford got out of the driver’s side. He jogged to the front of the guard shack and entered. The man rushed to David’s side and witnessed his agony.

“Open your mouth!” he shouted at David.

David was lost in the pain. The man reared back and smacked David across the face as hard as he could, knocking him off the couch. His eyes exploded with awareness of the man.

“Open your mouth kid!”

David, without thinking, opened his mouth and the man shoved two small pills onto David’s tongue. The bitterness of the pills was nothing like David had ever tasted before. It spread within his tongue and mouth causing him to retch.

The man grabbed David by the neck from behind and held his jaw closed so he couldn’t spit them out or throw them up. David struggled against the man, but he was too weak to resist and the man too strong.

“Swallow them,” he shouted at the David. “Come on! Hurry!”

David swallowed and the man released him. He gave David a warm bottle of water from the inside of the desk in the guard shack and ordered him to drink it. David did as he was told as tears poured from his eyes. It was the worst the pain had been.

“Listen to me carefully,” the man said. “The pain will ease in a moment. Do you hear me?”

David nodded.

“Good.”

The man left the building, shutting the door behind him and got back into the van. David stood and looked out the window and saw the man was driving away.

It was a lie… David thought. It was all a lie!

He didn’t know what the man had given him, who Mr. Smith was or what was going to happen to him. Maybe someone was taping this because they enjoyed watching children die on tape. Maybe it would be worse. Panic ruled David’s heart and he reached for the door.

Locked. He jerked the handle around and around. It was locked solid. He kicked it as hard as he could over and over. He tried to pick up a chair in the office to throw through the glass of the small window only to find it was bolted to the wall. Everything he grabbed was bolted or fixed in the room! David banged on the glass with fury.

“Mr. Carter.”

David stopped banging and looked around. There was a small, round speaker in the ceiling.

“Mr. Carter. Please sit on the couch. In between the cushions is a seatbelt. Please latch yourself in. You have 20 seconds to comply.”

“I’M NOT LATCHING A G@#DAMN THING UNTIL YOU UNLOCK THE F@#$%&^ DOOR,” David screamed!

“How is your headache, Mr. Carter?” the voice calmly inquired.

It had only been a couple minutes since he had taken the pills, but David realized it was weaker. In the middle of his panic, he hadn’t noticed.

“Mr. Carter, your choice has been made. You now have 10 seconds to comply. I would highly recommend you sit on the couch and latch the seatbelt.”

David, did not trust the voice, but realized his headache was continuing to weaken. He sat on the couch and searched in between the cushions for the seatbelts.

“If (5…) you bastards try and molest (4…) me or sell me into some kind of slavery (3…),someone’s gonna lose (2…) their nuts before they have to (1…) kill me!” David clicked the seatbelt.

“Welcome to The Agency Mr. Carter.”

And with that the floor of the shed to which the couch was bolted plummeted into the elevator shaft below.

David screamed all the way down.