Wolf Asylum (4 page)

She's dead,
Darwin convinced himself.
The cold, the prison, her physical condition…she couldn't keep running and she couldn't stay in the water.

Darwin left the bridge and wandered the grounds of the park. He knew a secret was being kept from him. The owl in the tree tops hooted to Darwin mockingly.

“What do you know, Hootie? Something, I bet,” Darwin said. “Tell that fucking cunt if you see her she's going to wish she was dead.”

“
Whoooo!
” the owl replied.

“Darwin that was fucking awesome!” Caroline shouted running towards him in her birthday suit. She embraced him in joy and thanks, kissing him on the cheek, “I never thought I could be so alive!”

“I told you that you would like it,” Darwin stated, trying to put on a happy face.

“What's the matter?” Caroline asked.

“She hit her head on a rock. I ate her but she was already dead. It's not really the same thing.” Darwin lied—yet again.

“That's horrible! We can always get you another one,” Caroline suggested.

“I think I've had my fill for today, thanks though.” Another lie.

Caroline held her warm body against Darwin's own. “We were starting to worry about you. You'd been gone for a long time.”

“I thought you would have gone back by now. I know the way home, you didn't have to wait.”

“We're family, of course we wait,” she replied with a smile of sincerity.

Darwin felt better for a moment. His lies drifted from his mind. This problem would go away in time. As Darwin looked into Caroline's eyes she moved in and began kissing him. The act caught Darwin off-guard. With his tongue massaging hers, he found himself content in the role, and he played along. Soon enough, the two were on the grass fucking like animals where they continued until dawn.

“How would you like to become a werewolf tonight?” Darwin asked his loyal Guardian.

“I pledge my entire existence to you!” Robbie replied, bowing his head slightly.

“That's good Robbie. I need someone I can trust for a very difficult job. If I give you the gift, then you must use that power to complete a mission. I can't ask anyone else to do it. I need someone like you who has something to prove,” Darwin stated to Robbie as they walked through a deserted McCarran Park.

“What do you need me to do?” Robbie asked.

Darwin lay a hand on his portly shoulder gently. “As a Guardian, your role is to keep humans out of New Haven during the full moons. I must expand your job description. Someone from the outside got in and they saw me change. I need you to find them, and kill them.”

“How did they get away? If you know they saw you why didn't you stop them?”

Darwin continued with his half truths, “I made a mistake. I knew they were there and I let them watch me change. I was fucking another werewolf at the time. There was a thrill in it, knowing I had been caught. I assumed I could catch them after I was done…I was wrong and I lost them. If I could leave town to look for them I would but tonight is the first full moon and I am needed here. You will must find her scent and continue the hunt. I will help you find the trail, but you will have to follow it on your own. Most importantly, I need this kept between you and me. It's an embarrassment—you understand?”

The podgy young man nodded his head in agreement without saying anything. Darwin had his full attention and would have his undying loyalty for the foreseeable future. Robbie, like any other Guardian, wanted nothing more than to become a creature of the night. Robbie was the ideal candidate for conversion. Young, nerdy, bitter at the world—and dying for some payback. Robbie had stood out more than other Guardians for the simple fact he wasn't an ass-kisser. All Guardians were eager to please which made telling them apart very difficult. They were after all, nothing more than human; a sub-species who happened to know a God when they saw one…and like all idolizations, they wanted the power of God, as well. If for no other reason than to command the respect they had always longed for.

Darwin noted two months earlier that the young man followed orders to the letter without back talk—or any talk for that matter. Darwin was most impressed that around the werewolves, Robbie knew his role and he didn't offer his flawed human perspectives on the issues brought up. Robbie merely followed the directions that were given to him and it was through this loyalty that brought him to the front of Darwin's list for blessing.

“It's time,” Darwin said. “Give me your hand.”

Robbie hesitated, asking one question before giving himself over.

“I know you normally make the person feed from you to make the change happen right away…I was wondering if we could skip that. The full moon is in a few hours and I'd love to have my first transformation the natural way.”

Darwin looked on the fat human blankly but he understood what was being asked.

Darwin grabbed Robbie's hand and raised it to his salivating mouth. He snapped his iron jaw down onto the meaty flesh of the hand breaking several bones even before the flesh had been torn open. His canines grew, puncturing the flesh and releasing a torrent of salty life fluid. The iron river flowed from the wound into Darwin's mouth and he lapped it up like a dog on a hot summer's day. Robbie sighed in pleasure with Darwin's fangs imbedded in his skin and the pain was welcomed.

Darwin could see flashes of Robbie's past. A large man who smelt like cigarettes was near the forefront. Darwin watched as the man beat Robbie for no reason other than to quell his own rage.

Robbie's blood pained Darwin. Another lost soul had been saved and freed to find his revenge.

Darwin released and looked at Robbie who seemed lost in his infection. Through Darwin's wolf eyes he thought about eating the massive swine before him. The smell of blood infected the air and for a brief moment Darwin leaned in for another bite before stopping himself.
Robbie must live,
he thought.

He brought himself back under control, reverting to a more human condition. The hair on his face and inhuman teeth receded before Robbie even took notice. The fat man held his hand and began to laugh uncontrollably as the curse he had long sought was now freely floating in his veins, replicating and turning him into something else.

“You took that well,” Darwin complimented. “Are you sure you want to wait for the moon to rise? I can partially turn you right now. The choice is yours, but your chances of finding her are much better if we bring out the strength now.”

“I know. It would mean a lot to me if we could wait. I'll find her; I have human skills for tracking!” Robbie reassured. “She's traveling in hostile territory and she must know it, why else would she be in McCarran Park sneaking around? I think she's going to be keeping a low profile, and moving carefully until she's beyond the borders of New Haven. I don't think she'd go north. If she's a local, she knows the dangers of the northern woods. South would take her to town, a place she would know to avoid. West would take her past Special Handling. Even if she made it past the camp she'd be looking at a long hike to anywhere,” Robbie paused and stared in the night air.

“I'm certain she'll make her way east; the question is, how long will it take her to realize where she is and what direction she must go? What time was it when she saw you?”

“Dawn,” Darwin answered.

“Did you get a good look at her?”

Darwin nodded as he continued the lie, “she was crouched in those bushes over there. From what I could see, she was a female in her mid twenties, brunette hair, and in decent shape.”

“No idea who she was or where she came from?” Robbie asked as his new confidence rushed through his body.

“It looked like Nancy Betmin. I couldn't be sure of it, but she looked similar. Nancy was a local until she moved away for school,” Darwin said.

“Why would this Nancy be lurking in the woods?”

“That's for you to find out,” Darwin replied hoping to get Robbie off on the search without lying further. Darwin sealed his lips choosing to let Robbie take the lead. The bushes would be a waste of time and Darwin was well aware of it. The trail for Nancy would be as cold as it was when Darwin was minutes behind her.

“The girl must be spry as a squirrel. Not a single branch broken or even a blade of grass bent. You're sure these are the bushes?” Robbie pressed as he crouched down to investigate.

“Who the hell are you,
MacGyver
?” Darwin asked, growing more annoyed.

“Who?” Robbie asked but not waiting for an answer. “I did some work with the Seton County Search and Rescue a few years back. I know a few things about tracking; it's pretty easy when you know what to look for. I just don't see any evidence over here. Mind you the smell from that outhouse is pretty distracting, maybe I'm missing something…is that my new senses or does it just stink?”

“It just stinks,” Darwin replied, looking at the lone wooden structure nestled in the trees.

“Hell, if she had that smell on her, she'd be real easy to follow!” Robbie replied.

Darwin immediately realized his mistake at that moment. “And real easy to overlook if she had been hiding there.” Darwin raced over to the outhouse and flung the door nearly off its hinges.

A trail of filth covered the seat and floor of the outhouse. Shit hand prints covered the door and walls. The toilet paper had all been used up and the cardboard roll was covered in fecal matter. Nancy had attempted to clean herself up but nothing could have helped her eliminate the odor. Her hiding place had bought her time but it was the same hiding place that would lead the young pup to her.

Robbie looked over Darwin's shoulder to find the starting point of his search. He closed his eyes and sniffed the air, attempting to dissect the pungent aroma. In his mind he could see the odors separating into different categories. The smell of shit was paramount, but hidden underneath that stench were two other distinct colors. His mind searched for a description of what he sensed. What existed in the air was scarce but he was beginning to create a picture in his mind of what her scent was. He distinctly found the smell of bad hygiene, both underarm and feminine. The more he focused on the stink, the stronger and more apparent it became. Another smell existed; one he could not pinpoint. It was unique and uncommon, but without more to go on Robbie could not name the last identifier.

“My hand is healing,” Robbie said, grinning at his scarred skin. “And my nose is working differently; I smell things I don't think I should be able to smell.”

“Oh, yeah, like what?” Darwin asked.

Robbie replied, amazing himself, “this woman is a dirty little whore. I don't mean the shit; I mean she was just rank; dirty, like she never bathed. There's another smell too…I'm sure it's her but I can't say what it is. It's like dust—when I think about it I want to cough or sneeze—but I don't recognize it.”

“Coal dust?” Darwin suggested without thinking.

“Maybe, yeah actually that's pretty close, charcoal! She must've rubbed some of it on her from the barbeque area. Ha ha! This bitch thinks she's so clever, but she's just giving me more to follow! I think this will be easy, Boss!”

Darwin was growing heated. “Don't get cocky. She got away from me, and I'm a cold-blooded killer.”

Unafraid, Robbie continued to explain, “but now we know what the smell is, and we also know she likes to change it up. So, if I lose the trail I'll know to find a new smell nearby. I think she'll get comfortable though as the day goes on, she might get careless.”

“It's a full moon tonight. She knows what I am. She'll want to get the hell out of here,” Darwin said.

“If she does get out?”

“Our story can't get out. Stop her anyway you can. Kill her and anyone she might tell. Use your best judgment and protect our secret; it's your only priority!” Darwin commanded.

Around the time the moon had begun its gravitational shift on the lycans, another long-held story was unfolding. Like the metamorphosis that the town's people were undergoing another abrupt shift was occurring within Marta Foster.

At that moment, Robbie fell to his knees the first time and growled with fangs forcing their way from his gums.

Marta took her eyes from her wall.

Clint was growing his claws in front of a detainee he had locked himself in with inside Special Projects. Clint had been in human form with her for an hour inside the stainless steel room CR1—Culinary Room. His victim knew what was about to happen and Clint enjoyed the tension that was building as his dinner waited for the big show.

Marta had waited years for her time, and at this moment she jumped to her feet and cracked her neck.

Tim Waters was behind the wheel of his Mustang trying to drive as long as he could before the change made him crash. His shoes had burst open and his pants had begun to split when he hit the brick wall at the grocery store.

Marta walked towards her wall.

Benny Yates and a few of his female companions were skinny dipping at his pool when the change began. The young man and his guests were covered in a thick coat of fur but still passing the beach ball back and forth before their claws popped it, causing the group to howl in laughter.

Marta uttered her first word in years at that moment.

“Darwin,” she said.

* * * *

Darwin sat alone in his childhood home in his bedroom, picking open his old scar from Marta. His change went unnoticed as he sliced open the remnant wound. The more blood he drew the harder he tore through the flesh, ignoring the pain he was causing. He wasn't sure why he had started to pick at his old pockmark and he would never be able to say how long he had been doing it. He simply did it. Inside was a secret and a mystery but under his skin and muscles he found nothing, but he kept digging, nonetheless.

Marta charged her wall full force, crashing her skull into the stone. Dazed by the impact, she gathered her balance and again charged the wall, this time with more force. Blood began to leak from her split skull but Marta again stumbled to her feet making one more rush to her holy wall. Her skull impacted and fractured, knocking her out cold at the exact moment Darwin had finished changing. In his wolf form, he continued picking at his scar for many hours, perfectly content.

* * * *

Director Kimbel arrived at the emergency room still wearing his pajamas but with a suit jacket thrown overtop. He had received an urgent call from Riverview and was told Marta Foster had to be removed from her cell and taken to an outside medical facility at once. Kimbel had to authorize the escort personally and he knew that security measures would must be extreme to ensure everyone's safety. He had contemplated the options but knew the kind of immediate treatment she required could not be offered at Riverview. Even knowing that her condition was considered grave, he wanted to be in attendance to ensure Marta could be returned to Riverview at the earliest possible moment.

“Can someone explain to me why this woman, who virtually never moves, suddenly charges the wall, not once, not twice, but three times? Where the hell were the orderlies?” Kimbel demanded.

“We couldn't have stopped her. By the time we knew something was going on, it was over. She caught us off-guard,” Orderly Johansen replied.

“You bet your black ass she caught you off-guard! What the fuck are you paid for? You know goddamn well she's on continuous watch! Who was watching the CCTV system?”

“That system is down sir, maintenance has refused to fix it. Some bean counter decided to save the money and leave it broken because we're closing. The union protested but like all things management seems to ignore our safety.” Johansen poked, “I think it was just the full moon, you know how the crazies get at full moon.”

Kimbel realized he himself had been that bean counter. He hadn't realized that freezing the maintenance budget had impacted the Foster cell camera. He now realized that it was something he should have had fixed without question. Hindsight being twenty-twenty, Kimbel was left with a potential mess that he had helped create.

“Marta never did anything, Johansen. The full moon impacts the other patients, but never her.” Kimbel turned to Doctor Giddon, “what's her condition?”

“It's in surgery right now,” Giddon informed. “The surgical team said it fractured the skull and there's a good possibility of a cerebral hemorrhage. At last word they were looking at doing an endoscopic drainage.”

“Is
she
still out?” Kimbel asked.

“They've got…” Doctor Giddon hesitated but continued delicately, “
her
sedated, but she never came around after she hit her head.”

“You know as well as I do that any sedation is likely to be ineffective. What security precautions do you have in place?”

Doctor Giddon said, “We have a team of five orderlies on hand to intervene at a moment's notice.”

“And?” Kimbel shot back with his eyes beginning to bulge from his skull.

“A straight jacket was in place, but the surgical team requested it be removed. They felt that the patient posed no immediate risk to herself and a straight jacket would interfere with any resuscitation attempts, should they become necessary.”

“So, they have no idea what they have in there, do they?” Kimbel replied.

“No sir, they don't. I tried to explain to them the need for the straight jacket but they demanded it be removed, citing the Hippocratic Oath,” Doctor Giddon offered. “They said it was as though I tried to hinder an effective treatment of the patient, and that they may become compelled to report me. I gave in…”

Kimbel lectured in frustration: “We should have delayed her transport to the hospital. The world would be a safer place had she just died. The laws and human rights make protecting society a nearly impossible task, however the rights of the insane and even criminals for that matter, outweigh the rights of everyone else. We can't do what we must do to restrain Foster because it infringes on her rights. She's a patient who has to be treated with dignity and respect, meaning the least restrictive measures possible. We can't use handcuffs or leg irons because she's not a criminal. I can't even use a straight jacket on her unless it's to protect her from herself. It just seems everything is backward in our system. We're the experts and we know what she can do; let us protect society and let us do what we must do. Instead, the bleeding hearts pipe up and demand humane treatment of the animal. What they have done is essentially have us prop the door open and hope the animal opts to stay inside.”

Edward Giddon said with a comfort in his voice, “Sammy, you and I have been through a lot together. Within a month, we're going to be done with this and we can forget ever having met Marta Foster. Everything will be fine…just wait.”

The two friends stood in the hallway for a time without saying another word. They would wait for the medical report and a time-frame to take Marta back to Riverview and return her to her wall.

* * * *

Three hours of silence had passed in the hallway outside the OR and no one had come or gone from the room in all that time; not even a noise had been heard. Both Kimbel and Giddon had grown impatient at the lack of information and were now looking for any excuse they could find to enter the room and get an update.

“Johansen! Why don't you put on some garbs and see if any of your men need a break. While you're in there, see if you can get us an update from the surgeon,” Kimbel asked.

“Yes sir.” The lumbering orderly departed without argument.

“I know it's not professional, but I'll say it anyways,” Doctor Giddon said. “For all the years we've tried to reach Foster, maybe this knock on her noggin will be all she needs to fix her.”

Kimbel chuckled under his breath. “If it were only that easy. We could go around and club all our patients on the head and overnight they would be fixed.”

“So strange…I wonder what triggered her? Have you notified her family yet?” Doctor Giddon asked.

Kimbel merely shrugged. “Marta's mother had no desire for contact. Her file has no next of kin listed. I remember the day Marie Foster severed all contact with Marta. There had been some tragedy in the family but I never found out exactly what happened. I know it involved her husband and the oldest son. When she came in to see me it was like she blamed Marta for what happened. The hatred towards the daughter was almost unimaginable. It wasn't like Marie came to visit that often, but that last day there was a definite change. Marie crouched down at the cell door, probably for no more than a minute. I could hear her sobbing and scolding Marta-though I couldn't quite make it out. I remember clearly what she said to me when she left the cell door. “Cremate her and bury the ashes in hallowed ground drenched in holy water and don't mark the burial place.” The way Marie spoke of her child was almost as though she wasn't human. It took some doing, but eventually the hospital agreed to remove the Foster family as a contact for Marta. From that moment on she had no family.”

“Did you agree to the burial terms?” Giddon asked.

“Yes, but I don't think they would have been adhered to. The cremation was fine, but everything else…not bloody likely.”

“Sounds like the whole family was a little off kilter,” Giddon commented.

Johansen approached in the skin tight blues, “Mister Kimbel, this surgical gown barely fits and they don't have any others close to my size.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, we're not here for fashion or comfort! Just get your fat ass in there!” Kimbel shouted.

Johansen sauntered through the double doors of the OR without further dispute, only shaking his head slightly as he went. The doors of the OR had barely stopped swinging when the large orderly was heard screaming and running back to the safety of the hallway. He emerged a moment later, his pigmentation drained.

“What is it?” Kimbel asked.

“Sir, she's gone! The others, you have to see.” Johansen began to cry.

Kimbel and Giddon ran through the double swing doors and down a short corridor to find themselves standing in a fantasy world. Likened to a wax museum, the doctors, nurses and orderlies were all frozen in place. The surgeon stood at the head of the gurney as though he was about to perform surgery. A nurse stood at a tray of stainless steel tools, her hand already on a scalpel. The security contingent of orderlies stood in proximity around the table, staying clear of the medical team. They appeared to be alive and breathing but they defied logic. Their eyes had burst. Everyone in the room had blood rolling down their cheeks. Particulate of the posterior chamber drooped from their eye-sockets and hung over their face masks like sludge; the room hung in silence.

“Where is she?
Where is Marta Foster?”
Kimbel screamed in a panic.

In a blink of an eye the trance ended and the injured fell to the floor, releasing the agony that they had endured in silence for hours. The staff rolled on the floor begging for the pain to stop. Tears of blood poured from their sockets.