THE FINAL
The next stage of the plan had been intricately coordinated by Laura as well, but it was the part of the plan that Sarah liked even less. As they continued on in the Cadillac, Sarah took the dress off again and changed awkwardly into a pair of jeans and a business shirt, grimacing as Laura helped her straighten a black tie, and slip on a lab coat.
“You look almost like a scientist,” Laura said.
“I don’t fancy going in there alone.”
She accepted the security badge from Laura and put it over her neck. The strategy was something worthy of her own design, it would be a double-pronged attack. She’d act as courier of the Laudacite and attempt to make her way into the inner sanctum of the facility where she could subdue Dr. Golding. Meanwhile, Laura and her group would mount an offensive and try to bring down the Wolves so she could escape.
“This is a very bad plan,” Sarah reiterated, adjusting a pair of black glasses that Laura also filched from her pocket.
“You’re the lynchpin,” Laura agreed. “Your husband wasn’t right. You don’t have to do this. It’s possible the Doctor won’t want to come along. He might even attack you…”
“I’ve killed before,” Sarah replied grimly, “and I’m in no hurry to do it again. But I won’t unless I absolutely have to.”
Laura gave the woman a hard glance and finally looked away.
“We all do what we must to protect our loved ones.”
At Brixton, they changed cars, and Sarah hopped into a dark sedan driven by a young kid she took to be a Fox. He smiled mischievously and lowered the cap, hiding his almost yellow eyes. Even as they neared the complex again, she felt something tightening in her stomach. Think of Cora, think of Connor, think of getting out of this alive, she repeated to herself.
Even from the heavy gates, she could see where she and Connor had come through the fence. There was still a hole, and the sharp edges were dark with dried blood, but someone had welded a new piece over the top. She shivered, and clasped the security badge tighter.
A stern security guard at the entrance looked at her once and seemed to take his time scanning it through a bar-code reader. It was like waiting for a terminal diagnosis, and she knew that even in the cool shade of the sedan she was visibly sweating. Finally, he handed it back to her and ushered her into the courtyard of the facility where another doctor, the bald one she had seen the night before, was waiting for her.
“Where’s Doctor Sarlowski?” the bald man said. Sarah saw his nametag: KROETSCH.
“Family emergency,” she replied with a blasé tone, and adjusted her glasses, “I’m Doctor Lenore. Vladimir sent me in his stead.”
Kroetsch looked Sarah up and down, scrutinizing her like she was an organism under a microscope and she tried to ignore the comparison. She held up the silver suitcase, and raised her eyebrow, trying to fake a look of irritability. Kroetsch finally relented and shrugged, and she followed him through double doors. The facility was clean, sterile as a hospital, and she didn’t like that comparison either.
He led her into an aluminum-sided elevator and hit a giant button inside with a red R on it. The elevator shook and she tried to find her balance again. Kroetsch gave her an amused look, like he’d been expecting it, and pulled his hands in front of him.
“We’re heading to the basement level,” he announced, “Dr. Golding prefers to accept the shipments personally. You understand.”
Sarah merely nodded, and the elevators swished open. She physically jumped back. The basement level was entirely different from the rest of the facility she’d seen. Above ground, it was what you’d expect of a research base. Practical, scarce, but efficient. This was entirely different.
The elevator itself opened on a hallway that was blue carpeting, dark and sincerely Parisian, as if flaunting itself. There were a number of pedestals lining the hallway, and as she followed the pudgy doctor in front of her, she could see that most of them contained clear plastic vats with some sort of chemical-oxidator plugged into each.
She wrinkled her nose when she glanced at their contents. Like all sociopaths who had been spurned from society and forced to live as outcasts, he had developed his own intricate obsessions. In each jar bobbed an organism, or parts of organisms. She could make out something that was halfway between a pig fetus and something else. All of them were grotesque, monstrous. And clearly, none of them had survived.
Early patients and experiments, she realized, and tried to keep her cool. It helped to clench her fists and feel her nails sink into the skin of her palm. Ahead of her she saw the despicable Kroetsch cast another glance behind him, as if checking to make sure she hadn’t thrown up her lunch yet. Slimy bastard, she thought. But there was clearly a tactic at work here.
Whoever Dr. Golding was, he wanted to make sure that anyone who made it this far knew what was in store for them if they were an enemy. If I’m not careful, I’ll be embalmed alongside these guys, she thought, and tried to deflect attention away from her nervousness by adjusting her glasses again.
As they exited the hallway, it only got worse.
It was a wide round atrium, surrounded with several alcoves in the wall that housed giant touch-screen interfaces. A few other scientists were hard at work, and the humming of coolant engines and mainframes were like a gnat buzzing around her ears.
In the center of the room, suspended on several extending metal pallets, was a spherical container, much like the ones she’d seen in the hall, but larger. Pipes and hoses were fixed into it, and it was filled with a greenish liquid. Bubbles burbled up the side. Inside she saw what looked like a Wolf, floating dead or either comatose. She gasped.
In the right light, the huge containment pod looked like a giant fountain. The dream came back in all its lucid recollection – how blood had pooled from it, sprouting from the top. She felt sick, clenched the suitcase tighter, and checked her watch. Still twenty minutes before Laura attacked the perimeter. I have to stall.
“And who is this?” a soft, almost feminine, voice asked.
Sarah, in her lab coat, turned toward the sound and followed Kroetschs’ gaze to a slim man in his 40s. His eyes were sunken in, like he’d never gotten enough sleep, and his lower jaw hung open slightly and to one side, as if he were in a perpetual state of bewilderment. He was only starting to bald at the top, but orange hair was combed neatly to one side. Like everyone, he wore a lab coat that was open down the center. Simple plaid shirt, corduroy pants.
“Mr. Golding,” Kroetsch said, “this is… uh. Sorry I’ve forgotten your name again?”
“Dr. Lenore,” she said. He’s testing me.
Golding eyed her with concern, and she felt as if she’d wandered into a boy’s only club and was about to be ejected.
Kroetsch grumbled. “Guess Ray had a family emergency. Her badge verifies; it’s all in order. Checked it myself. Vladimir sent her.”
“Did he,” Golding murmured. “Ernesto Golding.” He extended his hand and she took it. The infamous doctor didn’t look so terrifying up close, but there was urgency in his eyes. Fumbling, Sarah held up the metal briefcase and his head moved to one side.
“You’ve brought the extra shipment,” he exclaimed, “may I?”
She let go reluctantly and followed both men toward one of the alcoves.
“Interesting research,” she blurted, and wished she hadn’t.
“Oh? Are you a fan of genetics?” he said.
She looked again at the thing in the containment pod.
“I dabble,” she said, “what exactly is it, though? I don’t think I’m familiar with this… particular type of research.”
Kroetsch gave Golding a screw face, but the older doctor held up his hand. “Trans-species genome coding. At least, superficially,” he let a smile spread over his lips, “I can’t go into too much more detail. That badge only gets you so far, apologies. You know how these things are. But I can tell you that my research is going splendidly. What you’re looking at here is neither human nor animal.”
“A hybrid?” she asked.
He shrugged. “If you like. A hybrid suggests the culmination of two different species. In reality, this is just one species, but there is something fascinating about its genetic make-up. You see, its DNA is in a constant state of ribosomal flux.”
She nodded, pretending to understand, and he held up his hands again.
“In other words, this… this creature, is both human and wolf. It’s not a blending of both so much as a species unique to itself. However, because of that ribosomal flux, it is capable of changing shape. It has two… human and wolf. In this chemically induced comatose state however, it lingers between the two.”
“Looks fearsome,” she observed.
“In the eye of the beholder,” he shrugged again. It was like a tic for him. “Our goal has been to reproduce this ribosomal flux. It’s not such an uncommon idea. Animals of all types have cycles, whether it’s menstruation, hibernation, mating. Their genetic makeup changes according to subtle changes in their biological chemistry and the environment.”
“I can’t think of a practical use,” Sarah said, grating. She didn’t want to raise any suspicion, but the idea of one of her own struggling through a nightmare in a plastic tank gave her chills. She tried to force the image of Connor or, god forbid, Cora behind that plastic. “I grant you, it’s fascinating, but I don’t quite see the use of it.”
Golding made a face of disgust.
“You can laugh, if you like. Everyone else has. But the future of humanity is locked in the DNA of these creatures. Imagine if you could implant those traits that flux into a normal human. They could double in strength, change at will. Become anything!”
Kroetsch leaned forward and whispered something in the inflamed Golding’s ear, and the flummoxed doctor straightened his collar and gave a polite cursory smile.
“My apologies,” he continued. “I’m sorry, what exactly was your field of specialty?”
“Quantum dynamics,” she said. If she had to, she could bullshit about it, and she suspected that Golding wouldn’t be able to tell.
“Right, and how do you know Vladimir? I know you told me, it just escapes me at the moment.”
He’s onto me now, she thought and tried not to blink. “I’m afraid that’s also restricted information,” she said, “so let’s just say high-tech weaponry and move on?”
Golding nodded. “Of course. If you’ll come with me, I’ll check the Laudacite and we can arrange payment. Vladimir is not a patient boss, is he?”
She shook her head and followed the doctor through doors in the back. Light green hallways where full of chlorinated light and she found her eyes trying to adjust as he led her into a big office. It was more like a nest. Books and papers were scattered all over the floor, against a couch in the back, on the table. Even on the windowsill and vents. Against the walls were tacked diagrams she couldn’t make heads or tails of. Unless those are heads and tails, she grimaced.
He put the briefcase down on his table and opened it. A dozen vials of a wet substance caught the light of the single bulb hanging from the ceiling and he let out a little laugh.
“Something funny?” she asked.
“No, not funny,” he turned and leaned against the desk, “but I am impressed… is that the right word? That you would come all this way and deliver it right to me. You surely know what this? Or what I’m using it for?”
She took a step back. The air had become solid, dangerous as a spider web. She felt like if she moved wrong he’d be on her before she could blink. “I know it’s a sedative. I don’t know what you’re using it for, and my client, quite frankly, doesn’t want to know.”
“You aren’t one of Vladimir’s,” he shook his head.
*
She swore and felt a dizzying wave of endorphins flood her system. Her legs became rigid, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. “He sent me to-“
“Stop,” Golding held up his hand, “let’s not play games, I hate wasting time. We scanned you the minute you entered the facility. Full-body. You’re not one of Vladimir’s… you’re one of them. But you’re something I haven’t seen before. What are you… another canine, wolf or fox? Or maybe something else entirely? Feline?”
She took another step back and heard footsteps closing in. But not footsteps. They were sharp, like nails on a chalkboard. Claws. She whirled back at Golding and he shrugged. “I hit the alarm a minute ago. You can’t escape this place; I wouldn’t try. They obey me completely,” he said, “I’m willing to bet… you’re a Bear, aren’t you? You’re the one that came here last night… put a hole in my fence.”
She growled and took off the glasses, letting them break as they hit the floor of his office. “No,” she said, “that was my mate.”
“Oh! So two of you? Perfect,” he glowered, “I’ve never had a Bear before. These dogs are okay… they train well, but they lack that… what is the word I’m looking for? Dignity, I guess. Grace? You have dignity, my dear. Spirit, if you will. That’s what makes it worth it… the ability to crush it and bend it to your will.”
“You’re sadistic,” she said, raising her intonation as if she had only just discovered it.
“No, I’m a pioneer. I was laughed out of my position, scorned. That isn’t science! Science is a constant question, a begging of the question… that is what I’m doing, Doctor Len-“ he stopped and grinned, “should I keep calling you that?”
Sarah let the lab coat slide off her shoulders, and pulled up the sleeves on her shirt. She could hear a clicking sound as Golding’s “pets” made their way down the hallway. She absently looked at her watch. Still five minutes.
“If you’re thinking about changing, I would advise against that,” Golding said, pushing off his desk and swaying on his soles. “If they sense any animal scent, they’ll attack. Tear you to pieces, all over these walls, and I won’t be able to stop them. As long as you stay, just as you are… they’ll listen to me.”
She froze and heard a gruff sound of breathing behind her, and a silhouette she had seen in the flesh appeared in the frosted glass of the office door. Two of them waltzed in, obedient as robots, although she could see their giant crusty noses sniffing the air, and the way they licked their lips when they passed. They both came and sat down beside Golding, who smiled and snapped his fingers.
In the full light, she could see that they were misshapen – probably a result of the drugs he’d given them to turn them into beasts, erasing their rational human minds. Their fur was thinner than actual wolves, grey and slicked back, and she could see their muscles were indeed bulging. Double layered. There was no way she could take on two of them, even in Bear form.
All animals who had engaged in combat did so with a latent fear of getting hurt. Any battle could be your last, and so most fights in the wild tended to be mostly posturing. No predator could afford to get injured, because it would spell death in the wilderness. These things were different. Those same instincts for self-preservation had been overwritten. In their place was just a fanaticism, a madness of the blood that boiled down to a primal rage.
Her lips tightened as the two Wolves approached her at their master’s command, one of them snapping at her, but keeping his distance. It was hard to believe they had been humans. Golding had found the perfect soldier – not fully Wolf but not fully human. They’d been drugged into something in between.
“You’re a monster,” she said to him, and checked her watch again.
“Again, matter of perspective. In the eye of the beholder,” he shrugged, and snapped his fingers again. “Now, are you going to come quietly, or do I snap these fingers again?”
“What you’re doing is wrong. These aren’t animals. They’re people…”
“They’re whatever nature decided for them to be, and as we all know, nature is a cruel mistress. I do not limit myself according to nature. I defy nature. You will become one of mine. Who knows, maybe there’s something in that cute body of yours that will finally help me bridge the ribosomal flux and make it feasible for normal humans.”
“You won’t succeed,” she said, taking another step backward until her butt touched the door.
“Tchh, tchh,” he said, shaking his finger. The dogs snarled and leapt toward her and she pulled back, feeling the hot breath of them on her. It was damp, and seemed to soak through her shirt, touch her skin, and she cringed.
“Take her to a holding cell for now,” Golding said turning.
Sarah buttoned up her shirt and was pushed through the door by a big muzzle of a head. She took one last glance at Golding who turned and leaned over his desk. He looked tired, and she wondered what could have driven a man as brilliant as him to something so tragic. It didn’t make sense, but she couldn’t do anything but pity him.
She checked her watch again. The second hand passed over the twelve and she flinched, expecting something. Nothing happened immediately, but several seconds later there was a flickering of the lights and something that sounded like an explosion. The whole hallway shook and both Wolves stared fixedly at the lights, clearly alarmed.
One of them half-clucked, half-groaned something unintelligible and the other’s ears bristled as it turned and ran back down the corridor. The remaining Wolf snarled and nudged her forward again.
“Guess I’m not that lucky, huh?” she said.
Up ahead, she could see a sort of prison cell and a giant blue touch panel on the floor. The Wolf instinctively touched it and the gates opened. Clever, she thought. He’d made the whole facility operable by his pets. He nudged her again and she dragged her leg. In her right sleeve, she could feel something cold and smooth.
Golding had been too busy gloating to notice that she’d pushed one of the vials of Laudacite up her sleeve before she’d gotten out of the Cadillac. She lowered her arms and turned her back deftly, pretending to comply. The vial fell into her palm and she held it fast like a dagger. A small bronze syringe protruded from one end – probably as a delivery system.
As she was about to walk over the barrier of the prison she let her leg fall out from under her, as if she were fainting. The Wolf’s ears pricked as she toppled backward, and at the last moment swiveled on her heel. She brought down the vial hard on the Wolf’s neck and saw it inject immediately. The Wolf’s eyes turned on, instinct overtaking, and yelped, bucking his head, which caught her in the stomach and threw her against the far wall.
She coughed, face-down, and rolled onto her side. Stars were spinning around her head as she rolled to one side and narrowly missed the swinging end of the Wolf’s tail, which laid into the concrete foundation, indenting it.
Beside her, its huge body twisted in a spasm as the drug took effect; she made a mental note. Stab them in the throat with a sedative, and took off at a run. By this time Laura and the others should have breached the main fence, in which case she needed to find Golding before he could unleash more of his horde.
She reached his office and burst in, but there was no sign of him. She swore. Of course not. She tried to think, recalling the layout of the basement as she had seen it. There had to be another entrance off the main atrium, which led to the actual holding cells for other mind-controlled theriomorphs. She kept running, feeling her blood rising as she neared the double doors to the big circular room. She could smell the circuit boards and hear the humming of electrical cables before she barged through.
The area was deserted. In the main container in the center of the room, the Wolf under observation was twisting, as if in a bad dream, its eyes still closed. Clawing the water as if it were drowning in a kind of madness. Poor soul, she thought. There was nothing she could do for him now. She needed to find Golding.
She scanned the room and saw another door, double-hinged, leading to the east. This place was massive underground. One would never think, looking at the small squat operation on top, that there was a huge, nearly military-grade, research facility underneath. For a moment, she had the eerie sensation of moving through a wasp’s burrow. Or an ant’s. At any moment, she could run into one of the other soldiers. She undid the top button on her jeans and untucked the business shirt. If she had to turn, she’d need to do it quickly.
There was another hallway but this one had stairs, darkly illuminated by red warning lights that rotated behind wire grills. She could faintly make out another door at the bottom and hurried down the flight of cement steps. Each step was painful. There was something unnatural about the hardness of artificial places, and she could feel her legs working against her as they slapped painfully. I wish I’d brought a pair of hiking boots instead, she thought, suddenly hating her disguise, which had not only failed to fool Golding, but was now hampering her.
At the bottom of the stairs, she kicked her shoes off. Barefoot, at least, she could sprint. As she threw her shoulder into the door, she had to blink against another shock of light. It wasn’t bright this time, just… different. Like the frequency was off, in the same way the fluorescent lights in the hallway to Golding’s office seemed off. She suddenly understood why.
*
She had wondered just how deep the facility went, and now she saw that it probably wound its way into the sewers, and possibly even under the Thames to the south. It was a perfect escape route, but more than that, it was a perfect location for Dr. Golding’s final experiment.
She saw the room had likely been a hydro processing plant at one time, but it had been turned into another containment pod. This one looked smaller, but there was significantly more hardware plugged into it. Giant capacitors stuck obscenely out of it like electrodes, and a faint greenish glow issued from the liquid inside, casting the whole area in a swathe of vermillion that danced across the walls like reflection from the surface of water.
In the center of the containment pod, she saw Dr. Golding. He had pulled his shirt off, and was fully submerged, but had an oxygen mask attached to his face, which trailed hoses to another breathing apparatus outside the pod. He balanced there, and suddenly there was a static sound as electricity began to circulate and sparks coughed from the containment pod.
He raised his hand at her, and although she couldn’t see his mouth, his eyes said it all. He was smiling, cruelly. From several circular entrances she heard the same soft rasping sound and saw the other Wolf stride out, its gait deliberate and loping, and its eyes unbridled. He’s given it a fresh injection of his own chemical, he realized. And I’m fresh out of Laudacite.
She looked back at Golding. Whatever this containment pod was, she figured he had been cornered. Cornered animals became dangerous, unpredictable. He hasn’t tested his theory of ribosomal flux on a human carrier, she thought. He was going to try to test his research on himself; either it would kill him instantly, or he’d suddenly take on the attributes of the theriomorphs he’d tortured.
“Shit,” she said and took a step back from the approaching Wolf.
There was no choice left. She hoped that Laura would find this place soon. In the meantime, it was up to her. She thought of Connor, and tore her shirt off and struggled out of her pants. Golding, behind the plastic, seemed to recognize what she was doing and snapped his fingers. Even submerged, it made a definitive click, the Wolf’s ears bristled once and he lunged.
She was half-way through her transformation when the Wolf landed on her, its claws heading for her neck. She ducked it deftly, and snarled at him. She remembered what Laura had said about Golding’s creatures having some sort of venom in them – get tagged once, and she’d be dead before she could even reach the doctor.
She growled again, her full black pelt erupting like a time-lapse, and she braced her large Bear body on the cement floor, waiting for a second attack. The Wolf gave it, regaining its posture and lunging again; same tactic, a bad move in a fight. When Golding had taken away their humanity, he’d also taken their ability to reason. This thing was literally just acting on impulse, using the same attack over and over.
She easily deflected its blow by hitting it in the muzzle with an open paw, and the Wolf made a bleating sound like a dying sheep as it struck against the railing, bouncing off its ribs. Sarah growled and realized it had managed to sneak in an incision with its claw before it had been hit, and a small red streak darkened red on her fur.
The Wolf stood up, shook its head like a boxer recovering from a blow, and lowered its ears again. Another attack. This time it was different, but still predictable, and Sarah ran forward on all fours to meet him. At the last minute, she sprung off her hind leg and twisted in mid-air, missing the snapping jowls of the Wolf who emitted a surprised croak from its lean throat, and struck upward with her claws.
The Wolf’s underbelly was unprotected and she felt her paw slice neatly through the thick hide, sinking in deep against its ribs. She landed hard and rebounded, but when she turned back, the Wolf was limping badly and blood was pooling under it. It let out a throaty gasp and she realized she’d punctured one of its lungs, which was rapidly collapsing. It looked at her, almost fearful, and collapsed on its side. In his tank, Golding screamed mutely into his breathing mask, and Sarah winced as another electrical bolt filled the tank.
It looked as if he was in his death throes as he tore at his bare chest with his hands, his whole body in a kind of spasm. His arms began to grow in a geometric growth, doubling in size as he lurched. It was like watching a worm in the sunlight, struggling against the poison of UV light. His face began to twist as well, until he ripped the breathing apparatus from his face and bubbles streamed from his open lips, which began to curve inward.
A thin hair began to grow outward, fine and silken, but down his back, a huge mane of black bristles sprouted outward. It reminded her of a porcupine, except that his appearance was different, more fearsome. His legs folded back on themselves, becoming double jointed like a dog’s. He was bigger than his pet Wolves, and while there was something wolfish about his appearance, it was too grotesque to call canine. His face broke apart, elongating as the muscles and bones flexed into a half-human half-lupine visage that was hellish in itself.
Then suddenly the power cut out and the room was dark. Emergency lights came back on, painting the light a dull red. Sarah looked into the tank and saw that its contents were swaying, jogging against the sides of the plastic. Golding was gone.
Panic filled her like a balloon and she took a step back, straining all her senses. A movement in the corner of her eye, but when she snapped her neck towards it there was nothing. She heard something like laughing, but it was too guttural. Inhuman. Another flash, something dark behind her and she snarled and turned. Nothing.
“I’m here,” a voice whispered. She whirled around. Still the empty tank.
He was playing with her. Trying to make her afraid, and it was working. She could feel her pulse coursing through her veins, thumping loudly in her ears, and she tried to remember her meditations and calm herself. She needed all the help she could get, and having her heartbeat in her ears was only compromising her position.
She tested the air with her nose. The scent of him was everywhere, ubiquitous, like water. Like she was swimming in it all around, impossible to localize.
“Now I’m here,” she heard, and something brushed her ear.
Shit, she thought, for the umpteenth time.
Another movement, and something hard caught her in the side and she rolled against the side of the cement wall, gasping. Spittle flew from her mouth and she looked up. In the flickering red lights, she saw a form warming toward her, as if trying to develop in the dark like a photographic negative. He leered down at her, and it was sick, but she could make out Golding’s features in the glaring face, even though it had ceased to be human.
She growled hoarsely.
“I had thought of keeping you alive,” it croaked, “but I think instead, I will kill you. My first kill as a theriomorph! But I want to see you look at me… look at me knowing you will die. I want to see your fear!”
Sarah resisted, but he kicked her in the side with his massive legs and she groaned and squinted back. She had never known Bears, or any other shape-shifter, to possess the ability for human language. He truly was a hybrid, although his vocalizations struck her as crude, unpracticed, like an organism learning to adapt to itself for the first time. She thought of the first terrestrial air-breathers, and how clumsy they must have been when they struggled out onto the land.
“Now that I know this is possible, I can create an entire nation… a whole army. Think of it!” he said. He’s losing his grip on sanity, she thought. There had to be side-effects to this kind of procedure, and Golding had already manifested some psychological instabilities. He was rapidly losing himself in the creature he had become. “Now… squeal for me,” he said, raising his fearsome claw and standing up on his hind legs.
Sarah closed her eyes and waited for the end. Her breathing slowed, and for the first time since she’d stepped into the facility, she wasn’t afraid. It was creepy, this calm. As if she were finally surrendering, after raging for so long against the dying of the light. She thought of Connor, and of his smell, his smile. She thought of Cora, her tenacity. Both of them were safe. She did not fear dying, even if she was possessed of a terrible sadness that she could not have died seeing them one last time.
Goodbye, my loves, she said to herself, and her muscles relaxed.
Then, when there should have been a terrible pain, there was a sound of impact. Her eyes flashed open and she saw another shape wrestling atop Golding’s back. It was canine, but it wasn’t a Wolf. It was smaller, more agile, but clearly well-trained. Its big bushy tail swayed precariously as it tried to keep its balance, sinking its teeth again and again into Golding’s neck, even though the monster seemed impervious.
Sarah recognized the Coyote as Laura immediately. She barked, a loud sound that ricocheted off the walls, and sprung to her paws, suddenly filled with purpose. She would not die today, not while there was a chance in hell that she could return to Connor. She lunged at Golding while he was distracted, and her claws were held out in front. Bear claws tended to be used for scraping and slashing, but she felt a surge of relief as they stabbed into his chest and stomach.
Using her momentum, she pushed all three of them toward the tank. Golding snarled and beat down on her with closed fists. It felt like hammers, and although she didn’t feel pain, it was a huge shock that nearly took out her legs.
Laura, on top, savagely bit again, trying to keep Golding occupied as Sarah pushed off her back legs, trying to tip them all over into the small pit that housed the containment pod. Golding suddenly understood what she was trying to do and pounded on her back again with one hand while trying with the other to rip Laura off his shoulder.
There’s only this, Sarah thought, and made a last heave.
Laura leapt easily off Golding’s back, skidding to a stop beside the Bear, and Sarah let out a sharp breath as the creature tipped backwards. Golding seemed to register his fear, but it was only a nano-second. He collapsed back against the capacitors lining the containment tank. There was a fireworks display of sparks and a crackling like cellophane as his body was hit with all the residual electrical energy that been stored up in the pod’s system.
The sickening smell of burnt meat and hair permeated the room as Golding screamed once and folded back, his torso burning from the inside out. And then he was still, and the faint sound of singed meat cracking like knuckles. Laura returned to human form beside her and glared vehemently at the corpse. Beside her, Sarah raised a pale hand and set it fondly on the woman’s shoulder.
“It’s over,” she said.
Laura merely nodded. “Aye.”
“You saved me,” Sarah started to say, but Laura turned sharply.
“Because of you, my people are safe,” she began, “you don’t understand the extent of what you’ve helped to accomplish here.”
“He wanted to turn other humans… into him.”
Laura nodded and took a step back. Naked, she was incredibly pale, almost like a ghost in the blackness of the small atrium. “I feel sorry for him. But this was necessary,” she said, as if to console Sarah, “I wish there could have been another way.”
“Me too,” Sarah said with a thin smile, “What will you do now?”
The Asian woman puffed out her cheeks and raised her eyebrows. “What we’ve always done. Survive. Live, love. Aren’t those the most important things?”
She looked away from the burnt corpse still sending tendrils of smoke into the air, but didn’t reply. The answer was rhetorical, and they both knew it. She felt regret about killing and she was glad for it. It meant that she was still human. The ability to feel remorse, and although it was a burden to her, one she’d had to endure before, and might again in the future. The fact that it did not become any easier was a comfort to her.
“Let’s get out of here,” Laura said, “The others are waiting for us. We should leave before the authorities get here. Let them clear this up themselves. Our work here is done.”
“Yes,” Sarah said, and nodded again with the same smile, “Yes.”
*
When Sarah and Laura re-entered the abandoned apartment complex, they were met with cheers from all the residents inside. It was a strange sensation, hero worship, and for Sarah it was worse than battling the crowds at the Heathrow Airport or the dancing bodies at the Russian club. She only wanted to see one person, and Laura thoughtfully tapped her arm as if to say go to him.
Connor had been transferred to a bed on the second level, another small sparse room but it had a big queen sized bed that overlooked the city. His eyes bulged when he saw her and made a move to sit up, wincing again. His shoulder and chest was still half-bandaged, but somehow, he was almost back to his old functional self.
”A little stiff,” he complained as she leaned over him and kissed him.
He leaned back in the pillow, allowing her to wrestle her lips against him. She had never tasted better, and he moved his jaw and lips in turn. Their mouths closed tighter and Sarah turned her head perpendicular to his. His tongue met hers, like a flash in her nervous system, burning into her and she made a moan. It wasn’t a moan of pleasure as it was relief – gratitude, she thought, for being able to kiss the man of her life once again. There had been moments when that seemed like an impossible hope.
Her hands flexed on his chest and moved down, trailing over his stomach to below his navel, where he still had on a pair of jockey shorts.
“Think you’re rested up enough for a little R and R?” she asked, teasing him.
Her hands traced the hem of his boxers and slid underneath, where he was already hard. She squeezed gently and pushed her closed fist down, pulling back his foreskin. Pre-cum rubbed against her wrist and she fidgeted with the buttons on her own jeans, scrambling out of them even as she pulled on his penis.
“Mmrrph,” he mumbled, as she pulled her panties off and flung them against the chair and straddled over him.
She sat up, her bare legs craning over either side of him, and rocked gently. The tip of his penis bobbed up above the waistband of his boxers and she pulled them down around his ankles. Holding her shirt up above her navel, she fidgeted closer, pressing her pubis down against his fully erect member. He sighed and brought his hands to her hips, helping her sway against him.
“I think I’m wet enough,” she murmured, arcing her hips again and spreading her legs wider.
He could full see her sex exposed through the thin black pubic hair and pushed up with his waist, forcing the bottom of his shaft to strike against her clitoris which peeked out like a red strawberry. She quivered slightly on his lap and smiled brightly, reached down.
“Come inside me,” she said, barely a gasp.
His hands moved further up under her T-shirt, and she let out a moan as she guided him into her. The muscles of her vagina pressed against his penis and she began to move faster, pivoting in a rhythmic arc and closed her eyes. Her long black hair toppled over her head and she leaned down, forcing her groin into his savagely.
She let out a moan similar to his and pulled her down on him as the two crushed themselves into one another. She had lost her propriety, and for the first time in a long time, she allowed the Bear in her to run her passions as they made love. Her knees came up off the bed as she plowed herself again and again against his turgid member.
The wet pounding oozed down her inner thighs and she worked herself into an orgasm, crying out and throwing her head against Connor’s chest in an a weeping gesture. He held her, as he had always held her, and would always hold her. Gently he kissed her forehead and combed a lock of hair behind her ear. Her breathing slowed.
Through the window, the clouds simmered, purple and orange, above the rooftops of London. Both of them gazed into the sunset, and said nothing for a long time, until Connor finally cleared his throat and grinned.
“Next time, definitely a family vacation,” he murmured.
Sarah kissed him back in reply.