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Chapter 3
Rat City
Adrian was very very bored. He had no homework. Nothing was on TV. What he thought was Morcedi told him that English was cancelled, but that was just a ruse to get him out of school. Still, he wouldn't go back. If a teacher, even a demon disguised as one, even hints at a lesson being cancelled, most of the students will take that as "don't come in for the rest of the week." So Adrian didn't go back to school. Instead he lay on his bed, staring at his hand.
It appeared that he could change just parts of himself into the primal form. He watched his hand get covered in stripy fur; the fingernails elongate into claws and back again.
For about half-an-hour he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, watching his face change shape. It was hypnotic, and kind of scary, the realisation he was now more than human.
A short while after that, somebody hammered on his door. Lulu can't be that early, right? he thought. He answered, but there was no-one there. Nina walked past.
"I'z just Jamie, knock and run," she slurred. "You look wasted."
"You too," he retorted.
"Don - don - don't make me c'm in there," she said before she stumbled upstairs.
"Oookay," Adrian said to himself. It was a known fact that Nina was a drunk. Haverton thought it disgraceful that she had a younger brother to look after. Jamie didn't seem to mind, as his comatose sister let him run amok when he needed to.
Adrian sat back down on his bed. I've gotta cut a hole in one of my pants for my tail. Then he laughed at the fact he could have a tail when he wanted to. Strangely, all this felt normal to him. He wasn't freaked out at all. Lulu might be. Better not tell her. As if he was going to anyway. He'd only just made her notice him, and he didn't want her to think him crazy.
An hour later, he spotted Lulu walking up the driveway. His stomach performed some triple-flips with a pirouette. It had gotten bored of somersaults.
Adrian rushed downstairs before Haverton could answer it and let Lulu in.
"Hi!" she said.
"Gnng," said Adrian.
"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
Adrian hurried her upstairs before Haverton could see them.
"Well, this is… nice," Lulu remarked when she saw the state of his bedroom.
"Nah, it's a crap-hole." Adrian smiled, and sat on his bed, mainly to cover up some of the ketchup stains. Both of them seemed at a loss for something to say.
Therefore, it was relieving to have a series of frantic knocks at the door. It didn't sound like Haverton, because the old woman just stood outside the door and hollered through the keyhole.
Adrian opened it to find a flustered Manitou.
"Have you seen the news?" he panted.
"You, uh, wha-?" was all Adrian got out as Manitou barged past him and over to the portable TV in the corner. Switching it on, he flicked through the channels to CNN.
Adrian glanced from Lulu to the obviously worried man, who was mumbling.
"Uh, this is Manny," he said as an introduction. He knew it was a bad one. "Uh, he's a friend; he's a bit, y'know…" Adrian wiggled his hand.
"Oh," Lulu said. "Hiya!" It seemed little could dent Lulu's enthusiasm.
"Hello," said Manitou, preoccupied with the TV. "Ah, here we go."
He stepped back, revealing the newsreader. She was talking at length, standing in front of the Sears Tower in Chicago, the wind sending her coat about in flurries of leather. Lots of tiny, grey things were moving across the tarmac roads and concrete pavements. Apart from the reporter and the film crew, the city looked deserted. It chilled Adrian to the bone. Looking sideways at Lulu, he saw she looked uncomfortable about the empty streets.
"I'm here in front of Sears Tower to report this startling mystery. According to satellite pictures, the entire population of Chicago disappeared at noon today."
"How can a whole city just… go? I mean, a whole city?" Lulu whispered.
"Strangely," the reporter continued, "scientists have informed the authorities that the city's rat population has grown by seventy five percent in the last few hours. Back to you, Barry."
The screen flicked to a studio, where another newsreader in a suit sat next to a distinguished man with large glasses and a small moustache.
"Thank you, Trisha. Well, Doctor, what do you make of this?"
"Well, us here at the…," the doctor faltered for a second, "International Scientific Society think this is an example of mass hysteria, caused by the sudden rise in the number of rodents. Obviously, the citizens panicked and fled Chicago."
"But there has been no evidence to support that," Barry reasoned. "Twenty thousand or so people don't just disappear."
"Well, what else happened?" The doctor seemed unnaturally cold and indifferent to the situation. "The population were all turned into rats?" The doctor smirked at his suggestion.
"Well, I think our viewers will find that hard to believe. I, I think we'll be able to go back to Trisha now?"
When the image swapped back to Sears Tower, the picture was on its side, as if the camera had fallen over. Trisha couldn't be seen anywhere, neither could the film crew. A boom mike rolled forlornly passed the camera's field of vision, blown by the wind.
"Uh, Trisha? Tony? Anyone?" said the voice of Barry.
Some grey shapes darted past the lens, one stopping to stare into the camera, its eyes blind with panic. Rats. Rats filled the streets.
"I have to go," Manitou said suddenly, raising from the floor and striding to the door, where Adrian caught up with him, leaving Lulu to stare at the screen.
"It's them, isn't it?" he whispered.
"…Yes. But you can't come."
"What?" he glanced back into the room where Lulu was, to make sure she hadn't followed them. "I can fight."
"This one, if it is the one I think it is, is much more dangerous than Agony. This one gets inside your head. You aren't prepared for it."
"But -"
"No buts. I mean this. If we both go, what about Little Prospect? It's better to have an untrained primal than none at all."
"Bye then," Adrian said disappointedly, looking down.
"Don't take this the wrong way. I will always be here." With that, he strode from the room and down the stairs.
Adrian walked calmly back into his room, hoping that Lulu hadn't heard any of the conversation.
"I'm just gonna get my stuff, okay?" he said.
"Alright," Lulu looked incredibly shaken about what had happened in Chicago.
"Hey, don' worry," he comforted. He didn't know what he should say next, and sort of mumbled and pointed to the bathroom. Lulu nodded absent-mindedly.
Little did Adrian know, she had heard part of the conversation, and one word burned in her memory. Primal. Maybe…? No, not possible, she thought.
Manitou flew towards the infested city. He had a pretty good idea about what was going on there. Still, it would take him about a day and a half to get there, and he would have to rest on the way.
Also, he was entering another's territory.
Below him a van was driving on the dusty road. He sniffed. What was he doing? The passenger of the battered van was none other than John Hunningan, the one armed war veteran who lived a floor below Adrian. The man who was giving him a lift was driving in the same direction as Manitou was flying.
Manitou assumed it must be a coincidence, but where exactly would Hunningan be going? He had no living relatives Manitou knew about; it was just possible that he was going to some army base to train new recruits, him being a veteran of course.
As night began to draw in, Manitou landed on the outskirts of Pittsburgh, while the van drove straight in. Donning the jumper and hiding his torn trousers beneath a pair of jeans, he entered the main city in human guise, to search of a place to spend the night.
The next day he would cross Ohio and then Indiana, maybe hitchhike if his wings got tired. He could also take a shortcut over Lake Michigan if he needed to.
Even this late in the evening, Pittsburgh was a hive of activity. Though most people talked about every-day things, he heard some snippets of conversation about what was transpiring over in Chicago.
When most of the city folk had gone home or elsewhere, Manitou finally found a room to last the night.
Adrian was sufficiently satisfied with Haverton's expression when he told her he was leaving; it was a mix of anger, relief and surprise. When Lulu kissed his cheek by way of an explanation, the whole mix of expressions turned to one of shock, and they left her standing in the hallway, and them outside, walking down the driveway, Lulu giggling at Haverton.
They had also met and bade farewell to Mr. Chung, who was going to his takeaway, and the new resident Arnold Fister, who was carrying a saxophone.
"Hey, I didn't know you played sax," Adrian said when he saw the yellow metal of the tube and pedals.
"Heh, just started learning," Arnold said bashfully. "I see you've got yourself a girl at least."
"Oh, this is Lulu." Lulu offered her usual cheery greeting.
When Arnold had walked back into the boarding house, he imagined Haverton's groan when she would find out about the saxophone. He grinned. Then the rest of his face left the smile on its own as he thought for a moment about Arnold. The man's eyes had an odd urging about them, and they were watery, but that was just Arnold, who was most likely allergic. He also sensed… something about the man, something that made him want to have a shower. Meh, I'm just being paranoid again, he thought.
Lulu walked with Adrian down Magnus Avenue, and past the turning which would have taken them to school and further up, the hospital. Instead, they walked some more down Magnus to another turning, leading to a slightly better off estate where Lulu lived with her mother Molly. Of course, this estate was over the tracks that ran through the town of Little Prospect.
To Adrian, Lulu seemed strangely edgy, like she wanted a question answered. He had never previously seen her this way. Adrian wondered if she had noticed anything odd about Arnold, and was about to ask when she brought up the subject.
"That Fister guys a bit strange, don't you think?"
"Well… he does have this… vibe to him, but I guess he's not a people person, really."
"Oh? 'Cos he makes me feel like I wanna have a wash."
"…Yeah, he does, doesn't he?"
Lulu giggled, her face blushing. Then the expression of puzzled worry returned.
Time for… uh, thingy, Adrian thought. 'Thingy' was something he couldn't put his finger on. Maybe comforting was the word?
"You thinking of Chicago?" he asked as gently as he could. Maybe Lulu had relatives there.
"Yeah… all those rats…"
"Anybody you know live there?" God I'm crap at this, he thought.
"No… but that many people don't just get up and walk away… well, they can, but nobody saw them. They just went." Then, out of the blue, "Any secrets?"
"Wha -" Where did that come from?
"Come on," she smirked in a kind way, "It's obvious you're hiding something. Don't worry, I am too."
"Uh, can I start small? Yes? 'Kay, um, I hate the cheerleaders?"
"Oh, everyone knows you don't like them. It's the way you look at them."
"Really?"
"Yeah. And what's with that disappearing act you do? I see you walking about, then when I look away and back again you've gone, even when there's nowhere to hide."
"Um, it's just a trick I learned," he sighed. "Sometimes people forget I'm there, so I can sort of… make them forget, you know?"
"Ooh, creepy psychic stuff. Cool."
"Really?"
"Well, I don't think you're proper psychic - ah, we're here!"
Adrian's mind instantly ran through all the possible ways he could screw up, right up to and including indirectly causing the world to explode, but that outcome relied on Lulu's mum having a direct link to the President, who, in Adrian's current outlook, was a monkey.
Lulu's home was a two-story semi attached affair, with the window frames painted red in peeling paint. Some of it flaked away because of a passing car. There was a horseshoe nailed to the door for some reason. That was all it took to tell the house apart from the others in the street, they had been built nearly identical. A battered white Honda sat in the driveway.
Lulu walked up to the door, fished in her pocket for a key and unlocked the door.
"Mum's an actor, so she's a bit weird," taking his hand, she pulled him inside.
"Be as quiet as you can, or use that disappearing trick," she whispered.
"Lulu? Is that Adrian with you?" came a voice from upstairs. It sounded very relaxed and curious, and to Adrian, somewhat like Oro, his spirit guide.
"How does she do that?" Lulu pouted. "Just a sec'," she said as she stamped up the stairs.
"Don't worry like that," another voice said. Adrian nearly jumped; this was Oro talking. "Her mother isn't me, just in case you were wondering."
"Oh, well, that's one awkward moment we've avoided…"
"What do you mean, 'we?' I'm not good at human relationships. Speaking of awkward moments, there's going to be one if they catch you talking to yourself."
"Hello, Mr. Davidson," said the voice of Lulu's mother. Adrian really did jump this time.
"Lulu's right, man, you are jumpy."
Lulu's mum was much taller than her daughter, and to use the word 'skinny' would be a perfect opportunity to miss out on using the word 'emaciated.' Not that she looked starved, just looking like an underweight five footer stretched to a six foot eightish bean pole.
Pale blond hair fell down to her shoulders, framing equally pale blue eyes, which were behind a thick pair of lenses. A beret somehow clung to the back of her head, and her dull black sweater and grey trousers instantly told Adrian artiste.
Her slip-ons (black) clunked as she calmly walked down the stairs, spindly arms folded.
"Uh…" said Adrian.
When Lulu's mother reached him, she took his chin in one hand and slowly moved his head from side to side. Adrian shot Lulu a questioning look. She returned it with an eye roll.
"Hmm… your left side is the better," Lulu's mother said after examining his profile. "Good shape on the nose…"
"Uh…"
"Yes, you can have the spare room; Lord knows we need some testosterone in the house, hey Lulu?"
"Mum!" Lulu said through gritted teeth. "You're embarrassing me!"
"I am your mother. It's probably genetic. I bet you're glad to leave the boarding house, hey?" She nudged his arm.
"Uh…"
"Not very articulate, is he?" she said to Lulu, who was cringing in the background. I'm in the centre of attention, Adrian thought. I hate that! "I bet you're glad to see the back of that Haverton woman, hey?" she said, leading them both into the sitting room and pushed them onto the sofa. She sat opposite them.
"Well, yes," Adrian said finally.
"Ah, some words at last! I thought you were the strong silent type. Yes, I don't like Haverton either. I see her at the store, face like a slapped arse, hey?"
Lulu had slumped backwards, groaning.
"Now, in a few minutes I'm off to my evening class. Pizza's in the fridge, don't be too noisy, blah blah blah," Lulu's mum stood up. "Adrian can call me Molly, hey Lulu?"
"Mum…" Lulu sat up again. "I'm not a little girl anymore."
"You are to me, and I can trust you to find the Taser if you need to," Molly said, pulling on a coat. Lulu groaned again. Walking back into the hall, she said "A word, please, Lulu?"
Lulu left Adrian alone, where he looked at the pictures on the white walls. They seemed to be mostly abstract shapes and colours rather than any proper pictures.
He could hear snippets of muffled conversation from the hall, to the gist of:
"I won't tell him!"
"I know, dear, but be careful, okay?"
"I'm not stupid! You think I'm going to blow a chance like this?"
"There was that time in Seattle…"
"Ugh, don't remind me…"
Lulu came back into the room and slumped back on the sofa.
They heard the sound of the door opening, and one last message from Molly. "Oh, one more thing, Johnnies are in the medicine cabinet!" Then the door slammed, followed by Lulu's head slamming into the coffee table in front of them. Adrian's heart skipped several beats, because his stomach had just back-flipped into it.
"Told you she was weird. I think she smoked weed or something at Uni and it got to her…" Lulu said, head still on the table.
"Was she joking?"
Lulu sniffed. "I usually can't tell."
"So, uh, what do you want to do?"
He realised Lulu was cuddling him, and she was weeping.
"What… what's up?"
"Just… memories. I need hugs."
"Corporal Samson, keep up with the group!" Sergeant Grimsby bellowed.
"Sorry sir!" Corporal Samson said, running to catch up. The five man team had been walking for half and hour now, trekking to the supposed epicentre of the incident in Chicago. The team was on edge, they leveled their weapons down alleys as they passed by, looking all over the tower blocks for any sign of human life.
There was none. However, the only sign of life was from the carpet of rats that scurried away from the team and their rifles.
"Uh, sir?" Samson gingerly raised his hand when they had come to a stop. The rats had freaked him out.
"Yes, corporal?" Sergeant Grimsby was not a man whose patience you didn't want to test.
"There are two civilians approaching sir."
Indeed there were. Coming down the street towards them were two men, one crouched and in a thick overcoat, and the other tall and gangly. Samson gulped, against his will. He was a trained soldier damnit, so why were these two guys unnerving him so much?
"Stop right there!" Grimsby said, raising his own hand. "Friend or foe?"
The gangly one put his hand on the crouched man's shoulder, and lifted his other hand to the group.
"Put your hands up!"
Now Samson was hearing voices, malicious, evil voices. They taunted his every failing, his every mistake from day one.
"Put your hands up! That's an order!" Grimsby shouted. The gangly one continued to smile, but the crouched one winced as Grimsby aimed his rifle at them.
"Last warning! Put your hands - urk!"
As one, the group of five collapsed, shrinking as they did so.
Jack Daniels walked calmly up to the bundles of clothing, and lifted up a small walkie-talkie. Robert looked down at the small grey rodents struggling to escape both from their former clothes and the insufferable madness that was Insanity.
"Alpha team, do you copy?" said a voice over the radio.
"We copy," said Jack, in a perfect imitation of Grimsby. "No problems here. Continuing area sweep as planned." Tossing the radio to the ground as it went silent, Jack turned to Robert. 'Well, that was fun. Waddya wanna do next?" he said in his usual singsong voice.
"Well, there were hookers, but they're rats now…"
"So? I don't see your problem with that!"
Fish. Food. Catch. Manitou rose up from the waters of Lake Michigan with quite a large carp in his forearms. Ah well, here we go again.
Manitou didn't really like eating things raw, but animals did it all the time. While he concentrated on getting to Chicago and contacting the resident primal, he let the eagle inside eat the fish. He managed to get it to drop the head before he picked the eyes out.
He turned his mind to the primal in Chicago. He had learned that he worked in the Precinct, but being a primal he would be more resistant to the hex over the city that now as on the near horizon. Even from here it looked oddly deserted. Usually the sun would be gleaming off hundreds of car windows as people drove to and from work. They say it was one of the cities that never sleep, but it was now.
You don't get many primals emerging in cities that size, Manitou reflected, like the wild animals that avoid them as well. The smog and fumes lessen the chance of occurrence.
As he flew over the city boundaries he saw below a rather large military presence, occasionally dotted with various news teams. There was also a tank. Manitou didn't know why they thought a tank would be useful, and it just sat there. The army was mainly preventing anyone entering Chicago. They didn't have orders to stop eagles though, and Manitou flew straight on in.
He landed in a back alley, far from the outskirts where the soldiers would see him, and changed back to his human shape. The wings were the last to disappear, like they waited for the rest of him to stop shedding feathers. The wings would fold in and merge somehow with his shoulder blades, but the main bones of them were still there, under the flesh. That was why Manitou avoided x-rays in hospitals as best as he could.
He stepped out of the alley into the deserted streets, pulling on an overcoat, when his jaws had stopped being a beak.
Robert and 'Jack' strolled at a leisurely pace down South Canal Street, kicking aside rats, Jack slurping from a discarded milkshake, staring into space. Looking sideways, he saw Robert holding a magazine.
"What's that?" he chirped, snatching the magazine from his claw like grip.
"Skin mag…" Robert mumbled, a hint of defiance in his tone.
"Filth would be proud if he cared," Jack flicked through it. "Feh," he said, tossing it aside. "Give me a corpse any day!"
"You ain't serious, are you?" Robert wrinkled his face.
Jack just cackled, his façade slipping slightly to his true face. Then he stopped, and spun round, his face now angry.
"What?"
"The bird man," Insanity growled.
Manitou knew his shape shifting would have alerted the incarnation, so he half ran, his own guide leading him to the guide of the primal in Chicago. Stopping at a t-junction, he took out the bear claw around his neck and holding it close to his face. Northwest.
This close he could sense which incarnation it was, and he was right. Only Insanity could do a transformation on this scale. He could generate mass hysteria and had combined this with Robert's primal ability. Adrian wouldn't be able to stand up to the way it got into your head, if Sorrow's victimisation of him was anything to judge by.
The primal was very close now. Manitou was about to get to its dwelling when, "Stop right there! Put your hands on your head and get down!"
Manitou thought it best not to argue. He knelt on the ground; keeping his hands where they could be seen. Some one was approaching cautiously behind him.
"Who are you?" the man said when he entered Manitou's field of vision. He had a pistol and was dressed in officer uniform.
"Well?" the man then noticed something about Manitou's eyes. "Oh! Sorry, up you get, mate."
"It's understandable. I'm sorry for impeding on your territory."
"Nah, don't worry 'bout it. I needs all the help I can gets." The man was in his thirties, but had dark silver hair. He was just shorter than Manitou and had blue eyes, looking for every detail in the way a seasoned copper does.
"Freddy Malone," he said, holding out his hand.
"Manny Borlington," Manitou replied, shaking the hand. The back was covered in a thin layer of the same shade of grey hair.
"Ah, Manitou? I've heard lots about you. You know David West in the Caribbean?"
"I… think so. What's his -?"
"Shark. He and his sister Phoebe speak highly of you, they do."
"I… really?"
"Oh aye, an' I think Phoebe gots the hots for ya, ay?" Freddy nudged his elbow. "I've been tracing the two of them, that traitor Robert and the nightmare guy. Thanks for coming, by the way."
"Well, we got to look out for each other," Manitou said, walking down the empty street beside Freddy.
"How's the new one coming?"
"Adrian? He's doing great. He sent Agony back yesterday."
"Shit! Really? He's good. He's very good."
"I know. I'm just wondering how good."
"Really very good, if he beat Meathooks, then."
"The thing was, he looked as if he had no clue as to what he was doing. Caught Agony off guard, though."
"Agony's not the brightest, and all six of them underestimate new primals," Freddy reasoned. "Smoke?"
"No thanks," Manitou said as Freddy lit up.
From atop a tall building, Jack and Robert watched the two primals walking up the street.
"What we gonna do?" asked Robert, changing to his primal form. His tail and ears had already changed.
Jack remained silent, and raised the eyepiece of a stolen sniper rifle to his ashen face. "What they won't expect us to do."
"We ain't the, mmrrl, type to use guns… Jack." His teeth, catching up to the changes on his snout, were making talking difficult.
"That's why I'm using one, you halfwit. Ha-ha."
"Wait, they're near." Freddy sniffed the air again. "Very near." Suddenly he grabbed Manitou's arm and dragged him into the nearest alley. At the same time there was a bang and something whizzed past his ear.
"Damn bastard's got a gun," said Freddy, peeking out to spot the two assailants on a rooftop. He quickly pulled himself back in as a bullet stung the brickwork beside him. "I know the make; he's got about seven shots left before he has to reload."
Freddy leaned out again and fired off a few shots from his own pistol, while Manitou unfolded his wings, watching as everything around him went down as he grew taller. A sniper shot ricocheted off a dustbin and past his head again.
"Be careful, man! That thing he's got has enough kick to take someone out like that!" Freddy shouted as he ducked.
"Don't waste the ammo!" Robert shouted, and received a smack from the back of Jack's hand. It was like being hit by a whip, and the fingernails had started to resemble a buckle.
"Shut up! I know what I'm doing!" shouted Jack, his temper flaring and false face dropping for a sliver of a moment. Looking back into the eyepiece, he swore loudly, firing off three more shots as Manitou ran across the road, feathers sprouting, to under where they were, where he couldn't hit him with the overhang.
A bullet grazed Jack's ear and he threw himself down, Robert following close behind. Jack crawled like a lizard over to a small shadow cause by a vent.
Tossing the rifle to Robert, he yelled "I'll take care of the other one, you watch for birdboy. Screw up and I'll kill you myself." After that, he melted into the shadow and was gone.
Manitou knew what he must do to save the people of Chicago. He didn't like it, but it took but one life to save hundreds more from spending their days as vermin.
As silently as he could, he climbed the fire escape on the side of the building, keeping his wings tucked in, and unsheathed a knife from his pocket.
Peeking over the top, he ducked at Robert shot at him. It was a little known fact, but rats' ears and nose were on par with dogs.
Manitou squawked in pain when a bullet hit the joint in his left wing. Didn't keep them in enough, and now he wouldn't be able to fly home now. Manitou grimaced, inspecting the wound. The bullet had gone straight through, and had fortunately missed the bone. But, according to Freddy, Robert only had one bullet left before he had to reload.
Slowly, Manitou raised his head just above the ledge, and then pulled back. Robert had aimed at him, but not fired. Robert also knew how many he had left, and wanted a clean shot first. Also, being a rat primal, he would fight dirty when he was trapped.
Robert may not have known this, but a rat primal could be rather vicious in a corner. Rats would fight until they escaped, killed the attacker, or died themselves. Add that to Robert's five-year experience with bar fights from all over the country and the result was a person in which anything, anything, in his hands was a deadly weapon. Robert had once managed to kill some guy with nothing more than a pencil and a can of mace. He would probably use the rifle as a club instead of reloading, and he always had a knife somewhere on him.
Still, Manitou could smell the fear pouring off him, and he knew why. Eagles preyed on rodents, simple as that. Robert knew this all to well, and had started edging towards the fire escape on the other side of the building.
Sidling along, Manitou found a spot where he could, if he stayed low, pull himself up onto the roof under a heating vent. Manitou stifled a yelp when he bumped his injured wing on the metal vent, and looked up just in time to see Robert's rat-tail disappear over the opposite ledge.
Cursing, Manitou followed, peering over to see the rat man scuttle out of the alley below, scattering the rats that scurried over the tarmac.
Freddy, reloading his pistol, saw Robert running down the road, and fired off a warning shot.
"Stop right there!"
Robert kept on running, so Freddy shot at his legs. He needed him alive. However, instead of travelling at high speed at its target, the bullet stopped just after it left the barrel and fell to the ground with a tink. The shell sailed past his ear, and started spinning slowly through the air, going upwards.
Freddy turned slowly as he felt a presence above and behind him. The shadows were converging into a solid object. So Freddy did what his cop instincts told him to do, and emptied a cartridge into the darkness. If only things were that simple. Compared to the age of Insanity, guns were a relatively recent invention. The shadows stepped down from the walls, and condensed into a shape that was somehow more… there. Freddy tried to club it with the butt of his pistol, but it went straight through. Even worse, when he pulled it out, the pistol was in pieces, and melted in places. As he tossed the now useless weapon aside, the shadows formed into a person, the gangly shape of the man who had held the rifle on the rooftop.
Right, stop listening to the cop, and listen to the primal, thought Freddy as his teeth and ears lengthened and pointed.
The man smiled. Freddy leapt, still half changed.
Manitou half-ran along the street, following Robert's scent. He had almost found him when a bottle with a flaming piece of cloth attached to it sailed out of a bar window onto the road, erupting in a column of fire when it landed.
Great, thought Manitou. He's found a bar, and now he knows he's on home ground. There was a near infinite number of weapons available to the experienced bar room brawler, from the lowly chair leg to the shotgun the barkeep usually hid under the counter. This place looked a higher class of bar, so maybe there wouldn't be a shotgun, but, as Manitou found out again, it was easy to make a Molotov.
As Manitou edged to the door, another bottle flew out, incinerating the ground behind him, and unfortunately, some rats.
"Arrrgh!" Manitou screeched as a bullet grazed his shoulder, sending feathers flying in all directions and gouging a nasty gash across his flight muscle. The birdman clutched at his injury, and Robert rose out of the shadows of the bar, cracking the rifle across Manitou's beak then kicking his stomach. On the floor, Manitou spun, knocking Robert's legs out from under him and bringing the knife in his talons down to Robert's neck, but he grabbed Manitou's arm, stopping the killing blow. Two primals struggled in the dust of the ground; while in the background, howls were heard.
The two men in the shadows of the alley had become a creature of nightmares and a silver furred "werewolf" in the grey light of open air. Of all the primals in the world, Freddy Malone most fitted the description, which had gathered so much negative meaning throughout the centuries.
Thick silver fur covered his skin, and he swished his tail as he rose on his paws to face his foe. He sniffed the air with his wolf-like snout, and howled at the sky. The movies had at least got this right; the howl was a means of communication to other primals, of both a call for assistance and a threat to any who would dare challenge them.
The creature that was the living manifestation of madness merely smirked, and mimicked a barking dog for a second.
"Stop pissing about," it chuckled, and spouted a manic stream of gibberish that gave Freddy a headache. Looking directly at it made you dizzy, hearing it talk for any period of time gave you a migraine, and making eye contact was just an invitation to call the men in the white coats to take you away to a padded cell.
Insanity didn't have its usual dull black robe on, revealing a gangly; bandy legged form dressed in a straight jacket, prison style trousers wrapped in rope, and a dark green waistcoat, with more straps and buckles covering it than a Marilyn Manson concert. The eyes, the horrible eyes, bulged, the iris an iridescent sapphire; the pupils tiny holes. Insanity looked at the world through a pair of pin pricks.
Freddy the wolf crouched, fangs bared, hackles raised, claws revealed.
For Adrian, it was shaping up to be a promising evening. It had definitely been so since Lulu had stopped sniffling. First they stared into each others eyes for half a minute, which seemed like a lifetime, then they had kissed a bit.
After sharing the pizza, they kissed some more, and Lulu had dug out a movie. It wasn't the type of movie Adrian expected, as he watched a man get devoured. Of all the directors he least expected Lulu to like, she liked George Romero. After flicking through the Grant's DVD collection, Adrian found that a certain Mr. Q Tarantino featured heavily. Great. He liked Tarantino as well. In fact he dared anyone not to like him.
So they sat and kissed, while some unlucky sod ran out of ammo with a horde of zombies on his tail.
"You wanna watch Reservoir -" Lulu had drifted off on his shoulder. Adrian smiled. His life finally seemed to be getting on the good side now. He briefly wondered what Manitou was doing, before he himself fell asleep.
Manitou, from a purely statistical, logical, and cold-hearted point of view, was doing very well. From a human point of view, he was a killer.
He hadn't expected Robert's skinny frame to contain so much blood, for example. Some of it matted his feathers. As the body cooled, Manitou gravely performed the last rites of the Diaox. He was about to return to help Freddy when -
"FREEZE!" shouted a voice he recognised. Unfortunately, it was a voice he didn't want to recognise in this particular shape.
"Shit…" he whispered, turning with his hands raised, to face Sgt. John Hunningan.
"Drop the knife!" the black man shouted, raising a magnum. The blood-stained knife jangled as it hit the concrete. Manitou, despite his predicament, was impressed at the war veteran's ingenuity.
Cleverly, the one armed man had devised a way to hold the gun, and be able to reload, aim and fire using his remaining arm. A specialised false arm held the magnum in a metal bracket, while his real arm held the trigger.
The veteran advanced, still aiming the gun, towards him, and trailing his move from around the corner came six men in suites and sunglasses, and a twentyish woman in a white shirt and dungarees.
John lowered the gun when he reached Manitou, who still kept his arms up. The suites behind him, seemed ready to reach for a hidden firearm somewhere on their person, suggesting "One wrong move, sunshine, and you're dead."
"Stand down, boys, I know this man," said Sgt John, the sun shining of his bald head.
"But sir, he's -" said a suit, but was cut off by a polite but firm cough from the woman. "Sorry sir," the man said hurriedly. Manitou's eyes widened. What was Hunningan doing in Chicago, with six gangster movie extras, with another primal? Manitou sniffed. Deer, his senses told him. Psychic, as well. Very psychic.
The powers of the primals are not just limited to changing shape when you wanted to and flight if you had the wings. Some were psychic, had a connection with the afterlife, could heal others, or could channel the power of Nature herself.
The woman nodded at him, as on professional to another, and adjusted the glasses that threatened to fall off her face.
"How did you know it was me?" Manitou asked.
John sighed. "I had to tell you sometime. I'm with, you can put your arms down now by the way, I'm with the FBI. The Vietnam story was just a cover. The FBI has tags on all known primals."
Manitou gasped. "How?"
"That's the FBI for you." John motioned to Robert's body. "Did he do this?"
"No." There was a burst of maniacal laughter, and a howl of pain. "That did."
Manitou spun round running to help Freddy. The woman caught up with him, trotting on feet that became hooves as she ran, light brown fur covering her skin. Behind him, John shouted some order, and the FBI agents pulled out their pistols in eerie union, and gave chase.
Freddy threw up messily. It was too hard to see through the riot of swirling colours in front of his eyes. Something kicked him in the side, sending him to the ground.
Couldn't think with the screaming, yelling voices. Covering the ears didn't work; the sound came from inside your head. The colours cleared slightly, and Freddy leapt at the shape of Insanity.
He passed right through, the image fading as he touched it. There were several. Hallucinations. Strips of leather wrapped around his neck, tightening.
"Deary, deary me. Ha-ha. I thought you would last at least five minutes."
Freddy managed a gurgle.
"What's that? Mh-Mmmh. Your mind's such a mess. Like a firework, it is. Gillgingmrrn. Best just put you out of your, ha-ha, misery." He paused for a second. "Well, Manitou's killed rat boy. I, ha, sensed it."
Freddy struggled to breath. The world was fading.
"He may have won this fight, gah, but at least I'll get you out of the way."
Insanity's taunts were interrupted by several loud gunshots. Instantly, the creature let go of Freddy, and danced in a dreamlike way, followed by a series of fading after-images. Every bullet from the agent's pistols missed, sailing down the street behind Insanity.
"Ooh. Roadkill." Insanity waved a strap at an abandoned car, and the engine started. Faster than the vehicle would have in real life, it roared down the street, the bonnet, lights and bumper looking like a living creature. The agents and John scattered into nearby alleys to avoid it, shooting at the tires as they did so. They scurried out of their hiding places as the car upended itself at the end of the street.
Insanity glared at the agent firing in his direction. He glared. The bullets flew off in random directions, the agents sunglasses shattered, and his head snapped back as if he had been physically hit. He fell to the floor, twitching and gibbering.
Another agent made the mistake of glancing at his stricken comrade, only to look back, straight into the face of Insanity. The man froze. Then he started to age, his hair turning white, and wrinkles appeared all over his face.
The remaining agents emptied their pistols at Insanity, only to have him do the strange, bullet-dodging dance again. Pushing aside the rapidly shriveling agent, Insanity stepped forward, the agent falling to the ground as a suit with nothing more than bones inside it.
Reaching the closes agent, who backed away while hurriedly reloading his pistol, Insanity simply spun round, kicking the man's head with both feet in a blur of shadows. The poor man spun through the air, silent because his neck had been broken.
Before Insanity could finish off the remaining three FBI agents, he stopped, stumbling, and turned slowly. The agents saw he had a tomahawk sticking out of his upper back, and the wound leaked inky black gunk.
Insanity sighed when he saw Manitou raising another axe, and the deer woman behind him, tending to Freddy. Small flecks of glowing white… stuff fell from her fingers onto Freddy's injuries, closing the cuts and healing the bruises. This was manna, part of the soul of the world.
"You and your little bits of stone," Insanity said slowly, one of his straps snaking round to extract the tomahawk, then to leave it hovering in front of the incarnation.
Insanity waved his arms around the floating weapon and it glowed dark blue. Insanity moved it through the air without touching it, making it leave after-images. Some of which stayed behind.
"Why have one?" Insanity chuckled as the tomahawk and its ghosts started to spin and fly towards the three primals.
Both Freddy and Manitou stepped backwards or ducked, but the deer woman raised both her hands. The ghost axes stopped in midair, fighting in the gale of two minds fighting it out.
Behind Insanity, one of the agents foolishly fired his pistol, but the bullet looped round, returning to hit him in the chest, where he collapsed onto of the skeleton of the agent who had crumbled to dust.
The deer woman stood up, facing Insanity. Her eyes were pure white, while his were black holes. Tendrils of energy flicked along the metal rims of her glasses and her almost unnoticeable horns, and similar sparks could be seen playing along the straps of Insanity's straight jacket.
Manitou hauled Freddy to his feet and around into an alley.
Freddy seemed to notice Manitou for the first time. "Hey, you got hurt," he slurred.
"I'll be fine. It's you and her I'm worried about. She's too young."
"Everyone's too young for them," Freddy said, propping himself up on the wall. "But somebody has to try." He frowned. "I think he's got me stuck. I can't change back."
"Don't worry; you'll get out of it," Manitou said, peering around the corner.
A bin rolled past. So did a car. The rats covering the street had fled ages ago. Next to Manitou, some dustbins crumpled under the weight of the psychic pressure. Next some windows smashed.
The deer woman had moved to the defensive. Insanity's 'mind' twisted about too much to get a good hold on it. But Manitou could see from here that one of Insanity's eyes was twitching. The very ground beneath the two combatant's feet and hooves began to crack under the stain. Manitou flinched as his ears suddenly popped.
But it was no good. The deer primal slowly fell to her knees, her nose bleeding. Insanity seemed unable to control his twitch however, so she was fighting back. A tiny, almost unhearable chuckle escaped Insanity's mask when the woman started to groan, her stubby tail limp.
Then something unexpected by everyone except for one man happened. A small silvery barrel swung up to meet Insanity's temple, Manitou heard the words "Dodge this," and then a deafening bang that rolled around the street.
Insanity, his face a mask of shock, was lifted into the air by the force of the shot, and melted into shadow when he hit the ground. Sgt. Hunningan lowered his magnum and rushed to help the deer woman, who had reverted back to her human form and slumped to the ground.
"Now that's a gun," said Freddy, who had regained his ability to change.
"Is it gone?" Hunningan asked when Manitou and Freddy came to his side. The primal who had battled the madness had recovered incredibly quickly, even after enduring Insanity's full power.
"Yes, but not banished. It's just gone back to the island," Manitou answered.
The woman mumbled something and sat up. Blinking blearily a bit, she looked at Manitou.
"Hi. I don't think we've been properly introduced. Vicky Moonchild," she said, holding out a hand.
"Manitou."
"My parent's were hippies," Vicky said as an explanation for 'Moonchild.'
"Shitshitshitshitshit."
Insanity was not happy. You get that from only having half a face. The incarnations could survive any injury and regrow any lost part as long as their lifelines remained intact. The missing part of his face leaked black mist continuously. He was back in the island's cave system, in the main cavern with the pentagram, with Sorrow still lying there.
"We could really use your help in this, sister," he gabbled.
"Where'zzzzzzz the rat?" buzzed a voice behind him.
"Dead." Insanity turned to face Kentaro Xanthi, who had both pairs of insectile arms folded.
"Oh. And you?"
"I'll live,"
"Really? That looks serious." Xanthi put on a false nurse-like voice. "Sure you don't want it checked out by Master Velierious?" he chided.
"You're on thin ice, boy." Insanity turned away, and started to walk from the cavern.
Later on, Xanthi couldn't remember what had happened. He'd made a dismissive type of noise, like some snort that went ssnk. Then he had himself turned away to come face to half-face with Insanity, who did not look amused. Then he vaguely remembered having some sort of seizure, and Insanity's laughter.
In an hours time the rats of Chicago would become the people of Chicago, or stay as rats if they were supposed to be rats. The problem was the people of Chicago remembering that they were rats. That was where Vicky came in. Being psychic, she could erase their memories of the past few hours.
Sgt. Hunningan meanwhile strode about the street, shouting orders at agents and soldiers. The city seemed to be swarming with them now. Maybe the FBI did this each time a massive cover-up was needed. It certainly was now, as the news of the disappearances must have travelled around the world by now.
Manitou sat near to an ambulance brought in by the FBI, next to Freddy, and they were being checked over by some field doctors. Manitou would have to wait until they had finished before he could resume his human form, because of the matter of the bullet wedged in his shoulder.
He and Freddy watched Vicky do… whatever it was she did. There were no flashing lights, nothing spectacular; she just stood there, fingers on temples, eyes screwed tight with concentration.
"Have you contacted any other primals?" Manitou asked Freddy.
"No. I can't get hold of them. It's like they've all disappeared."
"Sir? This may hurt a bit," said a doctor to Manitou, holding up a pair of narrow forceps.
Manitou groaned. "Bloody guns," he said. Freddy laughed.
"The amount of stuff they've took out of me, I'm surprised I've not died of lead poisoning," he joked.
Manitou laughed, then grimaced as the doctor tugged at the bullet in his shoulder.
"…Got it," the doctor said, holding up a bloody bullet on the end of his forceps. It was at least as long as one of Manitou's talons.
"Jeez, you're lucky it missed the bone, hm?" said a woman's voice behind him. It was Vicky, who had wandered over after finishing with the minds of the people of Chicago.
"They'll be fine, they won't remember a thing, and the guys'll cover it all up," she said, pointing at the FBI agents over her shoulder with a thumb. "Excuse me if I stay like this, I just find it more… comfortable." She scratched her shoulder, though it was more of a stroke of her light brown fur.
This was a common occurrence in primals. It was sometimes relaxing to 'let it all hang out,' as it were. Manitou had been lucky to find the disused warehouse where he could stretch his wings from time to time. Manitou knew a young primal living in England, called Joseph. 'Jo,' as he was known to his friends, liked to spend as much time as he could in his raccoon shape. His girlfriend Janette found him more attractive in that shape than when he was in human form, but maybe it was because she was a collie. In primal circles, nobody really cared what shape you were. There were even some humans who like the alternate shapes. It was a wide world, to be sure.
"Sir, it would be easier for me to stitch the wound without all these feathers in the way. No offence."
"None taken," Manitou said, changing back to his human form. His injured wing jarred and stung as he pulled it in, shedding feathers along the way. When his shoulder had been cleared of obstructions the doctor continued.
"So, you two are the only primals who turned up for this?" Freddy asked both Manitou and Vicky.
"It looks like it. Why aren't there more?'" Manitou said.
"Yeah, something this big would have the place full of us," Freddy agreed.
They both looked at Vicky. She was cleaning her glasses.
"There aren't any more…" she whispered, looking away.
"What?" Manitou squawked, the shock of this making him jump, then wince as the doctor accidentally poked him with a needle. Freddy merely stared, jaw dropped.
"It's not just you, Manny, who knows about Ganas. There are other primals from all over the world who have been fighting him and those monsters."
"How many have been captured?" asked Manitou slowly, his head in his hands.
"Nearly all of us. New potentials are going about untrained; China has no defense at all now that Meizao has been taken. Europe has just three left, and that includes Boris, who has to cross the border from Russia."
"So… how many are left?" Freddy asked.
"Us three… the new one Manitou found, David and Phoebe, Boris, Jo and Roderick Palmer."
"Not Roderick. He got on the wrong side of Insanity two years back. He can't even recognise his niece anymore." Manitou said.
"Wha- really? Where is he now?"
"The infirmary at Little Prospect. I visit him when I can, but he just won't snap out of it."
"This is bad, if it's just us," Freddy said, standing up and pacing around.
Manitou heard the doctor say he was finished, but he didn't take it in. All those primals. Trapped. Trapped in the bodies of animals, but with still human minds, it was all too easy to tip over the edge and go insane. Or worse, become so convinced they were really animals, to forget their human identity, they became animals, never able to change back again.
Manitou stood up, reaching a decision. "I've got to get back, Adrian could be in danger."
"I can give you a lift," said a voice behind him. Turning, it was Sgt. John Hunningan. He had replaced his special gun holding bracket with a normal false arm. Manitou was slightly reassured to know there were some humans who knew what the primals did. They needed all the help they could get now.
Adrian woke up to the sound of the front door opening and somebody clumping upstairs. His sub-conscious ran a stock check of the situation. He remembered he was in Lulu's house. After a moment of panic, he remembered why he was in Lulu's house on the sofa. The clock on the wall said it was nearing midnight. Where was Lulu, by the way?
Oh, there she is. "Oh, you're awake!" she said. "I didn't want to wake you up, but my mum just came home." She giggled at him.
"What?" he said, bemused by Lulu's behaviour.
She stifled a full on laugh. "When I woke up and went to get a drink, you curled up just like a cat!"
Crap, Adrian thought. "Really?" he said, trying to stop a look of panic spreading across his face.
"Yeah!" she giggled some more. "Then you started snoring, and it sounded like purring!"
CRAP! Adrian's possible unveiling was stopped by an elderly tabby cat crawling out from under the sofa.
What's all the ruckus? Adrian heard.
"Oh, maybe the purring was Tigsy there. It was still funny, the way you curled up like that!" Lulu seemed determined to fix the memory of Adrian asleep in her mind, so she could look at it later. Adrian was still wondering if her had heard the cat… talk?
Tigsy sauntered over to Lulu in that special cat way, and meowed at her. To Lulu it was a meow, but Adrian heard I'm hungry, you!
"Aww, is Mr. Tigsy hungry?" Lulu said, bending down to stroke him. "We've got tuna you can have, or is there something else you'd like?"
A Big Mac.
"Tuna it is, then. Excuse me, but Tigsy gets annoying when he's hungry." Lulu walked back into the kitchen.
Damn you, woman! I said Big Mac! I hate fish!
Tigsy turned around to face Adrian, and fixed him with a puzzled glare.
If I could talk human, you'd be so found out. The cat snickered. Yes, the cat was definitely talking. Maybe it was another primal thing. Maybe Manitou could talk to birds.
If you humans ever invent a can-opener that can be operated by paws, we cat's would take over the world already.
"Is there any point to this?" Adrian leaned down to whisper.
Bloody hell, kid. I've heard of you guys listening to us, but managing to talk back?
"It's a gift."
Hah! Crazy primals. Get us a Big Mac.
"Why d'you want one of them?"
You've seen those adverts on the TV? They look gorgeous!
Great, thought Adrian. I can do Doolittle, and the only animal in the vicinity is a burger obsessed cat.
Molly was going upstairs just now.
Adrian had to avoid answering because Lulu had walked back in and placed a plate of tuna in front of Tigsy, crooning.
Stupid tuna again! Hey, are you listening? Molly just went upstairs!
Tigsy clambered on Adrian's lap, nagging in that cat way.
"Just a sec," Lulu muttered, trotting out of the room.
"What's so important about Lulu's mum being upstairs?"
Can't you smell it? She's found a man!
"Smell? What are you -?" Adrian broke off. He could smell a sickly sweet smell, just on the edge of… scent.
See, she's in lurve again. Her first husband left her after what happened with Lulu. The cat sat up and looked straight at him.
"What happened with Lulu?" Adrian asked. Lulu seemed perfectly fine, aside from the odd conversation with her mother he overheard.
Tigsy arched an eyebrow. I'm not sure I want to tell you. He snickered. But when Lulu needs to be alone, you leave her alone, got it?
"What do you mean now? Leave her alone, why?"
Just every weekend, she needs time alone in her room. If you don't let her do that, I'll claw your face off while you're asleep.
Tigsy looked like he would seriously carry this threat out. Then he leapt down and started to eat the tuna, grumbling under his breath.
There was some raised voices coming from upstairs, not argumentative, but in that special female way which means something exciting has happened.
Then Molly's voice said, "Lulu, you've done it again…"
There was a series of clunks, which came in pairs. Adrian wondered if he could hear all this so well because his hearing had been enhanced by the primal inside as well has his sense of smell.
Molly suddenly burst in, humming and smiling. She appeared to notice Adrian for the first time.
"Adrian," she sort of sung. "Lulu tells me you know a guy called Arnold Fister, hey?"
Adrian's face shifted to 'surprise' when Molly mentioned the man's name.
"I met him at my evening class, he was learning the saxophone. He was pretty good," Molly said in a dreamlike way. "He's a nice guy…" She noticed his expression. "Oh, Lulu's getting changed upstairs. The spare room is on the left, hey?"
Adrian took this as a message to go upstairs now, so he climbed the staircase with Tigsy following him.
The cat burped. Tuna gives me gas. Don't go in there, he said as Adrian paused outside Lulu's room. Hesitantly, he knocked.
"Don't come in, please!" Lulu yelped from the other side. "I'm, uh, I've not got anything on! Just a sec!" From inside the room came the clunking noise, this stopped as it got closer to the door. A few moments later Lulu opened the door, dressing in pyjamas.
"I just wanted to say goodnight, sorry if I… uh," Adrian stuttered, his face turning scarlet.
"That's okay," Lulu said, leaning on the doorframe, twiddling a strand of hair in her fingers. "Goodnight."
She watched him go across the corridor to his new room. She sighed closing the door, Tigsy just making it inside.
"Oh, Tigsy, he nearly found out," she whispered to the purring cat as she got into bed. "I don't want to have to move again…"
My name isss… Sssarah. Have to hang onto that fact. Sssarah Gladssstone.
For Sarah, everything was becoming a blur. She couldn't remember what she looked like as a human, or what Manitou and John looked like. She couldn't even remember John's name, just the impression of a large, friendly Scotsman.
Sssarah. It was getting much harder to remember everything else. But if she forgot her name, she would loose it all. Even if she was rescued, without her name in her memory, she was stuck as a small green snake.
My name isss Sssarah Gladsss… Glad… Gl… Oh God. What'sss my lassst name? She panicked.
My name isss Sssarah.
Sss… Sssarah.
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