I gradually awoke to a sore body and a slight
but insistent headache.
Looking around, I noticed that I wasn’t in my
bed, in the small motel room that I had rented just last night. I tried to think of a reason why that was,
but couldn’t. My perception and thoughts
seemed… clouded and unfocussed. Though I
freely admit to liking a drink or two… or seven… I had never allowed myself to
get really drunk. I wasn’t even sure if
I could afford enough booze to make me black out.
‘I was drugged.’ The realization alone helped to cut through some
of the fog and focus my thoughts. ‘Some
sort of tranquilizer. It would have to
be a strong one to work so well on me.’
I tried to sit up, and found that I had trouble
moving my arms. I was restrained, and not
with a normal set of handcuffs either – I most likely could have handled
those. These however were heavy, thick
manacles of a metallic white color.
Thick heavy chains anchored them to the floor, severely limiting my
range of motion, allowing me to only sit, kneel, or crouch.
Taking in my surroundings, I saw that I was
alone in an average sized room, about twice the size of a prison cell, with
concrete floors, walls and ceilings.
Besides the small air duct in the ceiling and drain in the middle of the
floor, the only visible exit was a large reinforced metal door, with no visible
hinges or locks. There were also black
plastic domes in each upper corner – surveillance cameras, most likely – and a
half dozen florescent lights, keeping the room well lit.
Most people would be worried by now. Hell, most people would be scared
shitless. Good thing I’m not like most
people – I just got pissed off.
“You sons of bitches!” I gave voice to my anger – prideful,
instinctual and borderline irrational – letting my growls echo off the solid
walls. “You have no fucking clue who you’re
messing with! You’ll pay for this!” I strained against my chains, testing their
strength, but to no avail.
I railed against my bonds and unseen captors
for some time, hurling every expletive I’d ever heard, plus a few more that I’d
made up on the fly. Eventually my fury
cooled somewhat - enough, at least, for me to think rationally again. The truth was inevitable. I was trapped almost completely. There was a chance though… I could shift. Releasing my true strength I could, if not
break my bounds, at least release them from the concrete they were attached to,
and force my way out.
The animal within wanted its freedom, begging
to be set free from the mental and spiritual restraints that I had painstakingly
forged inside of me. I wanted to let him
out, to regain control and punish those who had dared cage me. But I couldn’t… not with those cameras watching
and probably recording me. All I could
do was be patient and wait for the right opportunity.
After maybe another hour, there was a loud
noise which reverberated throughout the cell, without warning. It seemed like metal rasping against metal –
locks disengaging I guessed. Big, strong
locks by the sound of it. A moment later
the metal door across from me slid back heavily and to the side. Through the darkened doorway entered a rather
unassuming man in a suit.
He was average height and well into middle age,
with a slight paunch to his midsection, a receding hairline and horn-rimmed glasses. In one hand he carried a simple folding chair
and in the other a file folder. He was
dressed in dark slacks, a white shirt and black tie, with a grey sweater
vest. All in all, he looked more like a
friendly uncle or school counselor than some sort of… well, I had no idea who
he was, but he was not what I was expecting. I could only discern a few things from his
face and demeanor – he was confidant and unafraid, his eyes shown with
intelligence, and his smile seemed actually sincere.
“Welcome Mr. Erikson,” he said simply as he
placed the chair in the middle of the room and sat down, well out of my striking
range.
My emotions were still running hot, so I
couldn’t help but growl low in my throat and give him my best “I’ll kick your
ass” glare. It just seemed to slip right
off him and he smiled friendlily at me.
Damn – I’ve scared off groups of guys twice his size with that glare,
but he didn’t even skip a beat. That troubled
me, probably more than the cell and chains did.
“You are undoubtedly uneasy about your current
situation, but I assure you, your fears are quite unfounded. Mostly at least.” He gave me a wry smile. “Taking into account your… exceptional
abilities, it was determined that certain measures had to be taken. To ensure the safety of everyone concerned,
you understand.”
They knew.
It felt as if a cold metal ball had been dropped to the bottom of my
guts. The disproportionate security
measures had certainly made me suspicious; it was definite overkill for the
average joe. Now I knew for sure - they
knew me and what I was capable of, and I was in deep shit.
Now I was scared.
I and others of my kind live through anonymity
– we don’t call attention to ourselves or, sooner or later, the townspeople
bring out the torches and pitchforks.
One on one, there is nobody that could scare me, but let people form a
mob or give them time to prepare and equip themselves and… well, there’s a
reason mankind is at the top of the food chain.
“I assure you Mr. Erikson, we merely wanted to
have a polite conversation.” He said
affably, while adjusting his glasses.
“And you wanted to make sure that you had my
utmost attention.” I responded, my voice
flat.
“True.” He
nodded, seemingly pleased with me, and then made an annotation in the files in
his lap. He continued, much more serious
now. “You may call me Mr. Solomon. May I call you Matthew, or do you prefer Mr.
Erikson?”
I simply sat there for several moments, simply
looking at Mr. Solomon. I finally
answered, “Matt,” in a low whisper. He
simply nodded in response. I didn’t
really have a choice, but to cooperate.
“Now to the business at hand.” He said, consulting his file. “Matthew Erikson. You are a “lone wolf”, correct? You popped up on our radar a little under a
year ago and investigations have shown you have been traveling for two years
before then. Given your young age, we
assumed that you had a falling out with your pack – forced out by your alpha,
maybe?”
Once again I was stunned. On one hand, I was surprised, and pretty
embarrassed that they had been able to follow me for so long without having the
barest of clues. On the other, I was
shocked that he knew, or at least deduced, that much about werewolf society. He didn’t wait for me to respond before
continuing.
“Forgive me,” he shook his head. “That part of your past is immaterial to the
subject at hand. Let us continue to more
recent events.” He paused and again,
shuffled through his papers. “You’ve
kept out of trouble for the most part, traveling the country and working odd
jobs. There are the occasional arrests for
brawling and public disturbances, but that is to be expected with the explosive
temperament of your kind.” He smiled,
apparently amused, though it didn’t last long on his face. “But then we have the New Mexico incident.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about. A little over a month ago, while traveling
through the desert, I had quite accidentally found the recently dead body of a fourteen
year old Mexican girl. From the looks
and scents on her, it seemed as if she had been severely raped and beaten by
multiple males, then left to die from exposure.
It had been a while since she had been left
there and the scents had certainly faded, but then, I wasn’t a simple
bloodhound. It certainly took some time
and effort, but after burying the remains of the poor nameless girl, I tracked
down those responsible and made them suffer.
“Don’t get me wrong, the gentlemen certainly
had it coming to them.” He said,
stern-faced but with a conciliatory tone to his voice. “A gang of ‘coyotes’, extorting, coercing and
ransoming large sums of money from desperate people. They were most likely guilty of several
counts of murder, rape and trafficking – people drugs and weapons.” He paused and pierced me with a grim
look. “Still… you are potentially looking
at two dozen counts of murder.” He let
the pause stretch out uncomfortably, his eyes never leaving my own.
“But we can help.” He tossed a small stack of papers down in
front of me, the top one prominently displaying the Presidential Seal. “A full Presidential pardon of all crimes you
may have committed.”
Blackmail.
This was all about getting me to do something for him. He had me, and we both knew it. No… apparently, the United States Government
had me. Somehow, that seemed to just
make it worse.
“And what would I have to do?” I kept my voice low and neutral. He smiled and nodded, happy that I understood
the situation and my place in it.
He tossed another paper on top of the pardon. It was a brochure. That gave me pause for a moment, but soon I
continued to inspect it. A black and
white picture of a soldier, a big white star, and black block letters spelling
out ‘U.S. Army’ and ‘Army Strong’.
My jaw dropped as I realized what I was seeing. Looking up at Mr. Solomon, he simply looked
back with a slight smile on his face. I
wanted to respond, but I couldn’t think straight through the shock and
surprise.
All I could say was, “You have got to be
fucking kidding me.”
“You are not, by far, the first werewolf that the
Government has approached about recruitment.”
“There are others of your... persuasion, as
well as other non humans serving in numerous branches of the United States
Government. FBI, NSA, CIA, ATF, DEA, the
US Marshals, the Secret Service, even the IRS.”
I knew that there were other “beings” in the
world, though I had never knowingly met any of them. There were also stories about secret
government experiments and military units, using so called supernatural
elements. Now I had a sort of
confirmation.
“If you accept this once in a lifetime deal,
not only will you be pardoned, but you will benefit from the full protection of
the United States Government, be paid a generous salary for your services and
given ample opportunity to release your tension and frustration in… useful situations. On the other hand, if you do not…” he
shrugged with a convincingly sad expression, “you will be labeled a criminal
and a threat to the US and its citizens and eliminated.”
I didn’t see any other way out. Even if I managed to escape, they knew who I
was and were clearly capable hunting me down and capturing me – simply killing me
would be much easier. Besides, I didn’t
have anything tying me down. As Mr.
Solomon had guessed, I had been kicked out of my pack by the Alpha, who thought
that I was “getting too big for my britches”.
In other words, he saw me as a potential rival.
Not a lot of werewolves live alone for long,
not if they want to stay san and alive.
Living in a pack, though it could be a pain, provides stability,
security and support to its members. Joining
the military just might give me the sense of community and family that I was
missing.
