Blood Moon (7 page)

The woman’s eyes widened, and she grabbed Rose’s chin. “My friend had better be wrong about that, Rose. Because if you’ve hurt my fucking brother, you won’t like what happens next.”

Rose began to connect the pieces, despite her concussion. The woman was Marie Williams, the corpse which had vanished from the morgue in High Moor six weeks ago. She recognised her from the newspaper photograph now, even though her hair was different. If her brother was the werewolf that Doctor Channing was experimenting on, and the German could smell his scent on her, then that meant that she was in a hell of a lot more trouble than she’d realised. She’d seen the photos of Olivia Garner and her husband after Connie Hamilton had attacked them and she knew she didn’t stand a chance unless she co-operated.

“Alright, but I’ve not hurt him. I’m just a doctor. He had a lot of injuries when they brought him in, and I’ve been taking care of him.”

Marie Williams curled her top lip up into a snarl. “You’d better hope that’s the truth, pet. And you’d better not bullshit me anymore. We can
smell
it when you lie. If I think you are being anything other than completely truthful with me, then I’ll let my mate, John, teach you the error of your ways.”

Another man entered the room, wearing nothing but army combat trousers. He turned to her and smiled, and Rose couldn’t stop the whimper of terror escape from her lips. She recognised the man instantly. How could she not when his face had been on the front page of every newspaper for the last month? John Simpson. The
thing
responsible for all of those deaths in High Moor. She knew then that her chances of getting out of here alive had reduced to virtually zero.

Her terror must have been plain to see because Marie smiled at her. “Good girl. I can see we’re going to get along like a house on fire.”

24th December 2008. Underhill Military Base, Sublevel Two. 21:35

Phil hurried along the corridor to where Colonel Richards was talking to a junior officer. “Colonel, can I have a word please?”

Colonel Richards looked up at him and acknowledged his presence with a nod. He returned his attention to the young lieutenant, taking the clipboard from his hands and scrawling a signature onto a piece of paper. The lieutenant gave Colonel Richards a hasty salute before hurrying off through the double fire doors, leaving the two men alone. The Colonel smiled at Phil. “Mr Fletcher. What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping we could have a chat about Paul Patterson.”

The Colonel made an exaggerated show of checking his watch. “Of course, but you’ll have to make it quick. I’ve got to attend the mission briefing in a few minutes.”

“Well, I’d really rather that you didn’t use Paul. Not this time around, anyway. He’s been through a hell of a lot, and I don’t think his head’s in the right place. He should be getting psychiatric care, not being sent back into the field to face those bloody things again. It’s too soon. You give him a gun and he’ll probably just stick it in his mouth.”

“Under normal circumstances, I’d agree with you, but unfortunately our options are limited. The only people we have access to with combat experience against these creatures are Paul Patterson, Steven Wilkinson and your good self. Clearly, Wilkinson is in no physical shape to go out into the field, and if I’m honest, I’m still not comfortable with the idea of having a werewolf out there alongside my men. Yes, Paul has been through a difficult time, but he’s a trained firearms officer, and unless you are prepared to take his place, he’s the only experienced asset we have that I can send into the field. Are you saying that you want to go along instead of him?”

Phil’s shoulders sagged. “No, I’m not weapons trained. I’d be an even bigger liability than Paul is, and there’s no way you’ll get me to face down one of those things by choice. I’ve seen what they can do.”

“Then I’m afraid we aren’t left with any alternatives. As valuable as Mr Wilkinson’s intelligence has been, there really is no substitute for first-hand experience. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to brief the combat teams on their respective missions.”

“There is one more thing. I was wondering when I’d be allowed to go home.”

“Ah, yes. I’m afraid that it won’t be for a little while yet.”

Phil had been expecting that response, but his stomach still sank with disappointment. Sharon was staying with her sister in High Moor, and while he’d been allowed to speak to her on the telephone, it just wasn’t the same. There’d been times over the last couple of days where he’d locked himself away in his room, weeping silently into his pillow, wishing that his wife was there to hold him close. He’d never spent more than a few days apart from her in over twenty years, and without her he felt lost. “I realise that you still need me here, Sir, but all I’m asking for is a few days to see my wife. Maybe spend Christmas with her at her sister’s?”

Colonel Richards shook his head. “I’m sorry, Phil. I really am, but it’s out of the question. At the moment, you are one of the few people on the planet who has first-hand experience of these things. You’re too valuable an asset to risk at this time. Other governments would quite literally kill for the knowledge you possess, and let’s not forget the creatures themselves. You’d put yourself and anyone around you in terrible danger if you were to leave this facility now. If it would make you feel better, I might be able to arrange for your wife to be brought here instead?”

Phil was taken aback, and for a moment seriously considered the offer. Then he shook his head. Sharon would hate being confined to this place, even if her presence would make him feel better. He couldn’t do that to her. She was better off at her sister’s house. He shook his head. “No, thank you, Colonel. That won’t be necessary.”

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know. Now, if you don’t mind, I really must get on.”

Phil sighed as the Colonel turned and walked down the corridor to the briefing room. He felt useless, impotent, frustrated and more than a little bored. Steven Wilkinson was the werewolf expert, while Paul, despite his state of mind, was a highly capable firearms officer with combat experience. In contrast, Phil was little more than a bystander. There really wasn’t anything he could offer that the others couldn’t do better. With nothing else to do, he went back to his room and lay on the bed, wishing that Sharon was there beside him.

***

Phil looked at his watch and groaned. He’d been alone with his thoughts for almost two hours now. There was nothing on television that managed to hold his attention, and his mind was too active for sleep. The base was quiet now. There’d been a flurry of activity about an hour ago as the combat teams finished their briefing and departed on their respective missions. The corridors had been filled with the sound of boots and shouted commands, but now there was only an eerie silence. He picked up his phone and thought about calling Sharon, but at this time she’d either be in bed or at the midnight Christmas Eve mass with her sister. Better to leave it until the morning. Still, he was tired of looking at the plain beige concrete walls of his room and wanted to talk to someone. Anyone. He sat up on the bed, wincing at a twinge of pain in his lower back, slipped on his shoes and walked out into the corridor. With Paul gone, there was really only one other person he could speak to. He just hoped that Steven Wilkinson was in the mood for a visitor.

The elevator to sublevel four, which housed the medical and detention facilities, was situated at the far end of the underground complex, along a twisting maze of identical corridors. Phil still found himself becoming disoriented in this place on occasion, and as he made his way through the labyrinthine passageways, was acutely aware of the sharp echo of his own footsteps. There was no sign of anyone else. The military personnel that had not gone out into the field would be in the situation room on the next level up, monitoring the mission. He reached the elevator and punched the call button, a vague feeling of unease nagging at the back of his mind. He’d not actually been forbidden to go down to sublevel four, but it had certainly been implied quite heavily that he was not to stray beyond the accommodation level. Still, if he was discovered, he could always plead ignorance.

The doors slid open, and Phil found himself face to face with two stern looking army officers: a powerfully built man and a dark haired woman who seemed familiar, but whose name he was unable to place. His heart sank and he cast his eyes down to the floor, expecting to be challenged, but after a second, when nothing was said, he got into the elevator and pressed the button for sublevel four. All he could do at this point was to act as if he was supposed to be here and hope for the best. Still, in the cramped confines of the elevator, he had the uncomfortable feeling of eyes boring into the back of his neck. His heart began to race, and sweat beaded on his forehead. He forced himself to regulate his breathing and calm down. He’d know soon enough if they were going to prevent him from progressing any further.

The elevator lurched to a stop and, after what seemed like an eternity, the doors slid open. Phil stepped out and turned to his left, towards the medical facility, very much aware of the numbness in his legs and the hammering in his chest. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw that the two army officers were walking in the opposite direction, toward the detention area, and breathed a sigh of relief. They might mention having seen him to Colonel Richards at some point, but they clearly weren’t going to place him under arrest there and then.

He reached the door to Steven’s room, rapped twice on it, and let himself in, allowing the reinforced door to swing closed behind him. Steven lay on a metal hospital bed in the centre of the room with a drip running into his arm and an array of machines behind him that monitored his condition. “Hi, Steven, hope you don’t mind me dropping in unannounced. Just wondered if you were up for having a visitor?”

Steven winced in pain as he sat up on the bed. “I’m glad of it, Phil. I’ve been going stir crazy in here on my own. It’s…” Steven’s eyes widened and the machines behind him let out a cacophony of warning alarms.

Phil rushed to his side. “Steven – what is it? What’s wrong?”

Steven grabbed Phil’s arm. “They’re here. Oh, God, they’ve come for me.”

“What do you mean? Who’s come for you?”

“Who do you think? The fucking pack. I can smell them on you, Phil. You stink of the bastard that was hunting me on the last full moon. There’s a pack assassination team down here with us.”

Chapter 5

24th December 2008. Underhill Military Base, Sublevel Four. 23:52

Marie breathed a sigh of relief as she watched Phil Fletcher disappear around the corner. “Thank fuck for that. I thought he’d recognised me for a second.”

Daniel smiled. “The human mind is adept at rationalising things. The last thing Detective Fletcher expected was to see you here. He’s never actually met you in the flesh, remember. I doubt he made the connection.”

Marie frowned. “Well, let’s make this quick. The last thing we need is him to work it out and raise the alarm.”

Daniel stopped outside of a store room and put his hand on Marie’s arm. “I’m not comfortable with this approach. By rights we should be burning this place to the ground and getting rid of anyone who knows too much. Destroy any evidence. It’s what we were trained to do.”

Marie shook his arm away. “I know, but our priority has to be finding Michael and getting away without anyone noticing. We’re in a bloody secret military base, for fuck’s sake. We can’t fight our way out of here.”

Daniel nodded his acceptance, then paused and sniffed the air. “There’s one more thing you should know. Wilkinson is here. I just caught his scent.”

“Shit. That explains why they know so bloody much about us.” She paused, then shook her head. “It doesn’t change anything. Getting my brother away from here is all that’s important right now.”

Marie turned away from Daniel and strode down the corridor. Daniel caught up to her and grabbed her wrist. “We might not get another chance like this. Their werewolf expert is here. Their research is here. If we can get Michael out, destroy their work and kill Wilkinson, then we have to try. There’s more at stake here than just your brother.”

She snarled at Daniel and pushed him against the wall. “Michael is our priority. He’s the only one that can stop the pack from tearing itself apart. Once we get him out of here, feel free to come back and tie up the loose ends. Until then, we stick to the fucking plan. Am I making myself clear?”

Daniel raised his hands in surrender. “As crystal. Let’s get this over with.”

They hurried along the plain corridors, passing darkened laboratories and offices until they arrived at a reinforced steel door with a numeric keypad inset into the wall beside it. Marie punched in the code they’d got from Rose, and the lock disengaged. As the door swung open, Marie’s hand went to her mouth.

Michael lay naked on a metal autopsy table in the centre of the room. Thick nylon straps across his limbs, chest and forehead prevented him from moving, while an array of machines monitored his vital signs. An IV drip fed a cocktail of drugs into his system, while a metal tray beside the table contained an array of vicious, bloodstained surgical implements. Even without enhanced senses, Marie was almost overwhelmed by the stench of blood and excrement that billowed from the room like a noxious cloud.