Wolf Asylum (11 page)

Without further delay or consultation, Evita stuck herself with a needle and pulled it out immediately with no blood drawn. She stuck her “dirty needle” into the corroded artery of the live twin and began the waiting game. Had exposure to such a small amount of infected blood been enough to turn the subject? It was like waiting for Christmas morning.

At Hadamar, Doctor Gagnon would conduct experiments on a select few subjects revolving around the regenerative properties of “the gift” on neurological disorders, but her prime goal—as dictated by Darwin—was to expand the breeding program. Women would be strapped to the bed and used as a vessel to produce human children for consumption.

Men would also be strapped to beds and milked as needed.

The elimination of stimuli for the breeding stock leaned to Evita's growing and changing sadism. She convinced herself it was good for security, and in reality it was, although there were other ways to contain the patients. It was not about safety and security; it was a chance to accelerate and test the limits of madness. These people were already insane; could insanity be amplified and what were the limitations before death occurred?

* * * *

Kimbel and Giddon walked away from Evita Gagnon not knowing how close to the scientific show they had truly come. They retreated to the entrance, only taking Doctor Gagnon's word that Dave Cronin had indeed arrived. Both men were angry with what they had seen and heard. It was mostly their own vanity that hurt, knowing that their years of personal torture at Riverview were being discarded as though it had meant nothing.

“Who the hell wears Old Spice? That's something my grandfather use to wear.” Dave commented from the waiting area while he sucked on a cigarette.

“My grand kids bought it for me, so I wear it because I love them,” Kimbel replied as they rounded the corner. “This is a hospital, you shouldn't smoke in here.”

Dave took another long drag before exhaling the smoke in the direction of the unsuspecting humans. “Not open for business yet,” he replied with a smirk.

“Thank you for coming Mister Cronin. I'm Edward Giddon and this is Sam Kimbel. May we call you Dave?” Giddon asked politely.

“No,” Dave said bluntly.

Caught off-guard, both men looked to each other through their peripheral vision. They knew what Dave was; they had both dealt with men like Dave over the years. He was a self-absorbed asshole with a hint of little man syndrome. You didn't need a medical license to diagnose it.

Doctor Giddon asked, “Mister Cronin, we understand you were the lone survivor of an attack in December by some kind of animal. We're interested in hearing about that night. Could you tell us what you saw and heard?”

“I wasn't the lone survivor, unless you mean lone in the sense I was the only one who didn't die from their wounds,” Dave replied with another devilish smirk.

“Yes of course,” Doctor Giddon corrected himself. “I'm doing research on survivor guilt. That's when—”

“I know what survivor guilt is,” Dave interrupted. “What makes you think I have any guilt?”

“You might not. A lot of people do—”

“And I don't,” Dave interrupted, louder than before. “Why don't you tell me why you're really here?”

Kimbel jumped in trying to help out his friend, “Your case is similar to another one we're working on. We were hoping you could give us some insight into what happened.”

“It's all in my statement to the police, why not ask them?” Dave replied, throwing up his first blockade. They would have to work for the story.

“Sometimes hearing it from the person brings about a new prospective, and in some cases it helps the victim remember things they had forgotten. It's very important to us; your answers may help us,” Kimbel replied as diplomatically as he could.

“I could never forget that night. I was reborn. Seeing my own mortality ebb away from me, it was an amazing experience. I'll never be the same again, and I don't want to be the old weak me. I love the power and confidence that has been given to me.” Dave looked at Kimbel and taunted, “you should try it.”

“How long were you in hospital after the attack?” Doctor Giddon queried.

“A few days for observation. I was ready for discharge the next day in my opinion,” Dave calculated.

“So you would describe your wounds as superficial?” Giddon asked, knowing the question would strike a nerve. After only a few minutes he was beginning to see the narcissism contained in Dave and he wanted to exploit it.

Dave said angrily with a low growl under his tongue, “Superficial! I
saw
my friends torn apart. I
heard
them die. What attacked me was not of this world. Now I live with the memory of that night, my last night as a human. It consumes me, so it's a little more than fucking superficial!”

“Your wounds could not have been severe if you were feeling well enough to leave the hospital after only a day. Your mental anguish is clear; a clear indication of survivor guilt. I was just curious about your physical wounds.

“Mister Cronin, we didn't mean to minimize your trauma…I apologize.” Kimbel back peddled.

“You're a bad liar, Sammy,” Dave replied. “Who's the girl?”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality. I'm sorry I can't tell you her name,” Giddon said.

“She told you something, otherwise you wouldn't be here. An animal attack, what is there to learn about it that intrigues you? She said something to you—you're looking for the truth, aren't you?” Dave toyed.

“The pursuit of the truth is always important. If you have the chance to investigate something, shouldn't you do it?” Giddon asked calmly.

Dave asked with a sneer, “what do you want?”

“Maybe we should try this another time. I'm sorry we bothered you.” Kimbel rose from his seat signaling the end of the interview.

“Thanks for wasting my time,” Dave said as he removed another cigarette from a nearly new package.

“If you feel like opening up, here's my card.” Doctor Giddon held out a business card for Dave who only looked at it. Doctor Giddon then placed it on the coffee table and walked away, leaving the closed and angry man to himself.

Outside Hadamar the two men regrouped, knowing conclusively that something was off in New Haven. Leaning against Kimbel's car, they talked softly about what their guts were telling them and what to do next.

“At what point did you get uncomfortable?” Kimbel asked.

“I don't know if I was or not. There's something here though. Hadamar, Gagnon, Cronin, Foster…we know nothing yet we know lots. Betmin might just be telling us the truth.” Giddon concluded.

“Eddie, seriously! Werewolves take over small town America? I can't even begin to explain what's wrong with that idea,” Kimbel rationalized.

“Foster escaped using means that can only be described as supernatural. Their eyes exploded and she disappeared. Where was she from-New Haven! We can't explain it scientifically because it's not possible. Betmin shows up with this wild story about the very town that is taking over our patients. The patients will be used as food! That's why the hospital looks so absurd, it's not meant to be a hospital. The more and more I look at it the more it begins to fit.”

“You're really loop-da-loop on this,” Kimbel said before contemplating his own position. “I agree something is off here, but can we try to keep our speculations to the realm of reality?”

Giddon begged for acceptance of the possibility. “Cronin himself said, ‘I haven't been human since that night'. Betmin says they are werewolves, she's seen it with her own eyes. After talking to Cronin don't you feel like he was toying with us, as though he knew why we were here?”

“I'm stuck on werewolves. No such thing, Eddie.” Kimbel chuckled softly. “Look, I'll grant you that something is wrong here. Yes my intuition says something is being hidden here, and somewhere between what we have been told and what has been hidden probably lies the truth. I mean, how did he know the patient was a woman? We never told him that.”

“I caught that too. Well, in fairness, it was a fifty-fifty shot on his part but still he was convinced he was right,” Giddon surmised. “I'm coming back on the full moon; that will put the notion to rest.”

Kimbel mocked, “It will be a nice night for a drive and won't you feel stupid the next morning when you've seen and heard nothing.”

“At least I'll know.”

“Say hi to Nancy for me! Tell her we all really miss her!” Dave shouted as he waved from the steps of Hadamar…some three hundred feet from where the two humans were parked.

“How the hell do you explain that?” Giddon asked lowering his voice to almost a whisper.

“Let's go,” Kimbel nervously replied without taking his eyes of Cronin who remained by the doors to Hadamar, continuing to puff away on his cigarette.

The sun washed through the treetops followed by the gentle breeze that was dragging the summer season slowly to life. Late afternoon and deep in the woods, the temperature was far from hot. It was pleasant and a dip in the hot springs would be a welcome one.

Mary Cardwen ran ahead of Darwin playing the role of the flirtatious school girl; ducking behind the trees and dropping an article of clothing each time she momentarily disappeared. Darwin walked in stride like a predator that was ready to pounce on his innocent prey. He grinned at his she-wolf; knowing she would soon become like him and he knew he should tell her soon.

Darwin had not returned to the hot springs since the night of his rebirth when he cast off the remaining traces of his humanity. He was uncertain how returning to the woods would make him feel. The two nights of December had forever changed him…much like the night in the woods of his youth.

The forest was an enchanting place. Even as a human it had a feel to it that Darwin could sense almost like electricity in the air. The trees watched and the rocks plotted together in one harmonious vibe. The trails weaved their way through like veins delivering nourishment to the devil's hide. People could get lost in the woods very quickly. Paths taking you into the heart of the forest could offer no route out. Only the savviest visitor could find their way out moving against the flow of the trickery.

It was the solstice; June twenty-first. The woods greeted Darwin's return with enthusiasm. His memory of his night returned to him vividly and the way to the unknown hot spring was an easy one to locate. The foliage had bushed out and the snow had gone but still, Darwin could smell the way to the healing waters beyond the killing woods.

At the spot where he had killed Jason and permanently plucked the flower of Tina Darwin paused, remembering his own death at that moment. He had given in to his urges—in a big way—and there was no going back. He wondered if it was even possible to stop killing. Barely a day went by when the urge to slaughter was not at the forefront of his mind. The conflict raged silently in the rear of his thoughts.

Do I? Don't I? Should I? Why wouldn't I?

Watching his work in progress pouncing freely ahead of him he smiled, knowing soon that he would preserve what remained of Steve Cardwen in his sister Mary. How would he tell her what she would soon become? Would he let her learn of the gift on her own? What if she didn't become infected through sex as Cindy had? Would she resist?

“This is where they were killed, isn't it?” Mary asked as she hopped up and down, allowing her supple “C” breasts to roam freely.

“What makes you say that?” Darwin asked, wondering how she could have been so perceptive.

“I can feel their spirits. They're trapped here…it's in the land,” Mary replied, losing her smile as she was pulled in.

“What else do you sense?” Darwin asked.

“It's old. What exists here is old. It has many faces. It shows itself only when it chooses to; it's responsible for the murders.” Mary seemed lost as her mind continued to be sucked into the void. “They were murders, you did them. I see you now, what you are…”

Like a shock zapping through her body Mary's eyes bolted open and she tensed before quickly relaxing; her smile returned.

“Are you okay?” Darwin asked, rubbing his hands on her bare arms.

“I'm fine, silly! I just feel so at home here. Why?” she asked.

“You seemed to be elsewhere and said some things about the animal attacks. Do you remember what you said?” Darwin asked.

She concluded, “I didn't say anything. I haven't said anything in awhile. Why, what do you think I said?”

Darwin huffed a little wondering if she was lying, but his sense from her was honesty. “Hard to believe, but you did say a few things. Maybe I'll just keep what you said to myself,” Darwin teased.

Mary slapped his chest and begged to be let in on the secret. “Please tell me!” she whined to him.

Darwin smirked and rolled his eyes before finally admitting, “You said you wanted to swallow my load right now!”

“Pig!” she proclaimed before spinning around and continuing onwards to the springs.

“It was worth a shot!” Darwin hollered down the path to his distancing beauty. “I'll do you too, babe; I'll even lap up your squirt.” Darwin's stomach turned a little at his suggestion, but sometimes sacrifices had to be made in pursuit of a good blow job.

Darwin continued on walking, watching the distance between him and Mary continue to increase until she couldn't be seen at all. Darwin could still smell her but even her footsteps were becoming increasingly difficult to hear. He released his worries and let her go, knowing he could find her if need be.

Nancy Betmin…

He had forgotten. Nancy escaped and had yet to be found. He heard nothing from his scout and time seemed to slip away. It had only been a week or two—he couldn't recall exactly how long. What seemed so important at the time simply didn't matter anymore. Nothing bad had happened. The military had not come with their Dreamland scientists lusting over a possible new super soldier. The public and media had not been alerted or even a hint of medieval lynch mobs.

Mary wouldn't leave him. Nancy feared him, and rightfully so. Mary was falling in love with Darwin and as shocking as it was, Darwin felt in his own soul a foreign body taking hold of his will.

Was it love?

He felt giddy when he thought of spending time with Mary. When he imagined her he smiled. It was pure and utter joy that had not been felt inside Darwin since his time with Steve. The underlying difference was he had never been physical with Steve. If he had, Darwin knew he would have felt the way he did at this moment.

Someone once said, “To love is to be human.” Darwin had heard that once before, probably from an overrated poet. He knew he had dismissed the teaching long ago because he never felt love. His own youth had been devoid of love and he had watched everyone around him pair up and date, but that was never the case for Darwin.

Years of solitude play on a person's emotions until one day they can only draw one conclusion…

There's something wrong with me! I'm not likeable. I'm ugly. I'm fat. I'm too stupid. I'm simply not meant to love, or be loved.

In irony, Darwin had only begun to experience humanity only in its absence.

Blankly stumbling through the woods, Darwin welled up and his eyes began to leak. The memories continued to pain him. He felt robbed of life and it angered him-even though he had a new one in front of him.

Some wounds never heal.

At once Darwin's foot and leg ceased to move, jolting his hip and then his entire body jerked to a halt. All Darwin could see was the gray of the stone as his forehead timbered to the ground and he disappeared into the cavern.

The trip had been instantaneous and Darwin recalled smashing his head into the rock but as he awoke, he was now on his back on the stone altar and it felt like a long time had passed. His head ached and spun worse than his first hangover but the nausea was still at bay.

Darwin raised his head to look down his naked body to find a visitor standing at his feet, watching him with an odd grin. Confused, Darwin shuddered a bit. The visitor before him was someone he had never seen before.

“Cup of tea?” The man asked politely before shoving off from Darwin's feet to the silver tea service set up at the wall.

“Sure,” was all Darwin could get out of his mouth.

“I'd offer you milk and sugar, but it's blasphemy to pollute your tea, so you'll have it black,” the mystery man informed.

“I've never been much of a tea drinker, so I wouldn't know the difference anyway.” Darwin swung his legs off the stone slab and sat up fully. “Sorry, who are you?”

“Who do you think I am?” The man replied as he approached Darwin with his cup and saucer.

Darwin scanned the individual, but could draw no comparisons to anyone he had ever known. “Normally you present yourself as someone I knew, except last time, only the voices sounded familiar, but I don't know you.” Darwin accepted the tea and immediately took a sip of the hot scalding fluid.

“You know me. Give it some time,” the man replied. “How's the tea?”

“It's hotter than the rivers of hell, but really good. Is it Earl Gray?” Darwin asked.

The man laughed, “No it's Menstea, a very old brew that people like ourselves enjoy from time to time. You won't find it on the grocery store shelf, but I can tell you how to make it if you really enjoy it.”

“So, what do I call you?” Darwin asked.

“Call me John,” he said.

“All right John…what is it that I must learn this time?” Darwin asked confidently.

“My boy, have you heeded the warnings you have been given?” John asked, sipping his own tea.

Darwin answered, “I don't know how to. I was only warned that destruction was coming. You didn't give me much else to go on.”

“This hasn't stopped you from prancing around town with this human bitch, or even letting one get away. You don't listen. You've gotten lazy and now you stand at the precipice of destruction. We will not protect you. You were given the chance for revenge, to create a foothold in this world and to expand outwardly; but you stall. Why?”

“It's not that I'm stalling—expansion takes time. Until New Haven can be on a paying basis and meet its food needs, the idea of expansion seems foolish. We have great ideas coming online, but reproduction can't be rushed. I'm also trying to adhere to the principles; we don't want to kill just anyone. It was you yourself who said sending the good to hell serves no purpose. Well, that's what we're trying to do. Our lust for flesh is making that a challenge. Innocence is being killed.”

“The children?” John asked with his odd, little grin emerging again.

Ashamed, Darwin looked to his lap for solace but found none.

“Yeah,” he replied softly.

“Why does it bother you to kill children?”

Darwin replied as though the answer was too obvious. “They can be the only true good, but yet we condemn them as though they are made from the same evils that their parents are.”

“When did you first learn the cruelty of children? You of all people should know that the innocence of youth is a crock. Children are not innocent because they are naïve to the ways of the world. When they attacked you, when they beat you emotionally day after day-do you really think they didn't experience guilt for their crimes? If they experience guilt, they therefore know the wrong they do, and if they keep at it, then they are not innocent. Lest we forget Teddy?” John humbly replied.

“We've killed babies,” Darwin cried. “Our good is insulated with evil.”

“You've deactivated human machinery that lacked programming. A heartless way to look at it, but in the end those individuals could have been programmed to be anything to anyone. They are a subspecies, inferior to yourself.” John paused briefly swirling his tea around. “Having said that, why are you experiencing emotions, empathy, to the humans?”

“I don't know. I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to eat a human child, because I have. I want to do it again and again! Yet I feel! I feel remorse in what I do—it's not consistent, but it's there. Can you help me?” Darwin asked in frustration.

“You wished to be purged of your remaining human frailties?” John clarified.

“Yes!” Darwin shouted. “It hurts too much! All I think about is the joy and happiness that I never had. I want it to end. I want to forget about my past and see a clear line between the lycans and humans.”

“That's a tall order my friend,” John quietly asserted.

“It can be done!” Darwin pleaded.

“Can and should—these are the questions. If I were to eliminate your remaining human traits; and don't misunderstand me, I can do it, but if I did…” John again paused.

“I'd be better for it,” Darwin stated.

“Are you familiar with your history?” John asked in an upbeat tone before hopping up on the altar and sitting next to Darwin.

Darwin knew a little about history, but not as much as he should to declare he knew his history. He shrugged and left his answer at that.

“We have appeared to many over the millenniums. Different cultures and faiths have different names for us. It really doesn't matter what you call us. For example the Irish call us Leprechauns. Can I look you in the eye and say I'm not a Leprechaun? No…because I am…to the Irish anyways. When I appeared to a young boy in the small town of Gori, Georgia in 1885, he saw me as an angel. The boy had been stricken with small pox which brutally scarred his face. The child was a fighter though, and I saw something in him. For his allegiance, I promised him great power to the end. I held up my end of the bargain and so did he. To this day his people still fear his name.”

“Who was that?” Darwin asked.

“Joseph Stalin. Of course when I met him he had a different name, but that is who he became. We've had many like him over the years. Adolf Hitler was probably one of our better achievements for personality turn around. Joseph always had a wicked side to him, but believe it or not Hitler was a kind and sweet child.”