Operation: Yukon Page 4

  He turned it over in his hands, made about as much sense of it as I had, then strode over to Watkins.

  "So what the fuck is this then?" he said, dropping the still-dripping collar in the man's lap. Watkins looked down at it but didn't move to touch it.

  "Behavioural modification," he said. "I told you, Masterton was trying to teach them."

  "What, fetch, roll over, play fucking dead, that kind of thing?" I asked.

  Watkins looked at me. There was no smile on his face.

  "Hunting techniques, group cooperation and efficient means of catching prey, that kind of thing. The plan was to breed an army, not a petting zoo," he said. He nodded to the collar. "They all had these...even the big male."

  "Big male?" the cap asked. "There's a bigger one of these fuckers?"

  "Of course there fucking is, Cap. There's always a bigger one. We're the S-Squad...that's how this shite works, isn't it?" I said, and this time Watkins did laugh.

  "Just pray you never meet him; he's a mean big bastard that one."

  I patted my rifle.

  "I'll see if he can play fetch with a few rounds from this."

  Watkins wasn't smiling when he replied.

  "You're going to need a bigger gun."

  I caught up with Sheriff Sue when she finished another round of the townspeople. There had been no noise save that of the storm from outside since we returned and a stoical calm had descended on the folks gathered in the station.

  "I've told them there's a rescue coming," she said. "That hope should keep panic at bay, for a while at least."

  "Speaking of panic," I said, keeping my voice low so that her people wouldn't hear me, "What was that about out there? You got yon beast's attention right enough, but it nearly had me for supper. Why didn't you shoot?"

  "You ever had a dog, Sergeant?"

  I nodded.

  "Then you know why," she said. It seemed she was more sentimental than I'd thought, and I wasn't going to get any more of an answer for Jennings arrived just then with a face like thunder.

  "I need a word with you," he said. "And I need it right now."

  It had been coming for a while, we both knew that, but even as I took him aside to the farthest corner from the rest of the squad, I still didn't know what I was going to say to him. I needn't have worried overmuch about that, for he had plenty to say for himself first.

  "I'm a good soldier," he said. "You'd ken that if you bothered to read my sheet instead of strutting around with a pole up your arse. I'm your new corporal, like it or lump it, and I can't have you showing me up in front of the privates. I won't have it."

  "'I won't have it, Sergeant,' is what you meant to say, isn't it?" I said, leaning in close so that we were almost nose to nose. "If you want to be this squad's corporal you need to fucking start acting like it. You can begin by stopping whining. I'm not here to wipe your arse and blow your nose for you. Away hame to your mammie if that's what you're after. Step up or step out."

  To his credit he didn't back off, not at first.

  "I just want some respect around here," he said.

  "Then fucking earn it. That's how it works in this squad."

  "How am I to do that when you take the wee poof instead of me?"

  I had his bollocks in my grip before he knew what was going on. He had his back to the room, so nobody saw; I didn't want to humiliate him, just teach him a lesson. I squeezed, hard.

  "You forget too quickly," I said. "I've told you already about that mouth of yours. Respect works two ways. You don't have mine and you've got a fuck of a long way to go if we're to get there. Now fuck off out of my sight unless you want to be a eunuch."

  Thankfully he had enough smarts to fuck off when told for my blood was up and I can't always trust myself in times like that. The cap caught my eye from across the room and raised an eyebrow. I showed him an okay sign and headed back over to the coffee machine for another smoke.

  It was going to be a long night.

  I found both privates, Wilko and Davies, working on the blooded collar. The red LEDs had stopped blinking, mainly because the wee black box was now in bits on the table the lads worked on.

  "So what does it do?" I asked.

  Wilko replied.

  "Far as we can tell it works by radio. A broadcast sends a message that causes a wee electrical shock to run out and into the spine of the beasties."

  "Electro-shock therapy?"

  "Exactly. Pain or reward depending on response I'd guess. Pretty simple stuff. I'd have expected something more high-tech."

  Davies laughed.

  "Remember, this is British government boffins we're talking about. Bodge-jobs-r-us."

  "So this broadcast? Where's it coming from?"

  "The research station, far as I can tell," Wilko replied.

  "Could we bypass it, tap in and send our own commands to the beasties? Tell them to fuck off?"

  I only meant it half-seriously, but Wilko took me at my word.

  "Davies and I will see what we can do, Sarge," he replied.

  -7-

  I was right about the night being a long one.

  Some bright spark had salvaged a wheen of boxes of frozen pizza, and the station had a wee microwave. The pizza itself tasted like warm plastic shite but it was fuel, and that was what I needed more than anything. While waiting for that new brick in my stomach to shift there was little to do but drink coffee and smoke. The wolves stayed away from the door, the storm continued to rage outside and Jennings sulked like a wee spoiled boy. Wilko and Davies continued to work on the collar, Watkins had fallen into a fitful sleep on his cot, and the cap, the sheriff and I hogged the coffee area while Sheriff Sue talked.

  I'd been right about her military service.

  "Two tours in Afghanistan," she said. "Rough terrain, surly locals and too much dust and shit. You know the drill."

  That wasn't a question and we didn't need to answer. She didn't say any more about that time. Instead she spoke quietly of her town, her people, and of the ones that had been lost in the panic of the original attack. Fresh tears glistened in the corners of her eyes but her voice was as hard as iron when she spoke of the wolves.

  "They hunt as a pack. Back when everything first went to shit, I caught a glimpse of the big one; his eyes looked directly into mine as he stood which gives you an idea of the size of the bastard. He was gone like a fart in the wind as soon as I raised my weapon. But I've looked into his eyes now, and him into mine. I'll be coming with you when you go after him. We've got a dance to finish."

  Again, it wasn't a question, and again neither the cap nor I saw fit to answer. I'd seen her in action and she wasn't about to fold on us. If she wanted to tag along that was fine by me. And besides, I knew better than to quiz her any further about her hesitation out in the storm earlier; I've met enough strong women in my time to have learnt when to keep my mouth shut around them.

  Keeping my mouth shut didn't apply when it came to the men of course, but Jennings was sulking, keeping his distance. That was also fine by me. The hall had fallen quiet, with some of the locals electing to try to catch some sleep when the chance was available. There was no repeat of any scratching at the door or outside the walls. I was about to take a chair and see if I could maybe nod off for forty winks when Davies called me over to where they'd continued to work on the collar I'd brought in.

  "I think we might be getting somewhere, Sarge," he said. "Between us we've figured out a rudimentary broadcast system. We can send a signal that will be picked up by the wolves' implants. Trouble is, what the fuck do we send? I doubt they'll respond to a Scotsman telling them to sit or fetch."

  "I ken a man who might know," I answered, and went to wake up Watkins.

  He came out of sleep and into an immediate grump at having been woken. His mood didn't improve when I told him why.

  "I'm a geneticist," he said. "I told you already. I know very little about the behavioural side."

  "And yet, that very little is still more t
han any of the rest of us know, so give it your best guess; what could we do that will give us an edge in a firefight against them?"

  To his credit he gave it some thought while I got smokes lit for the two of us and passed him one.

  "I suppose a single, high intensity broadcast to all of them at once might give them cause; at least confuse them enough to give you an opening. But you haven't really seen these beasts in action yet; they're not going down easy. And the big mean one…"

  "Is big and mean, aye, you told me that already."

  "You weren't really listening though," he said quietly. "It's a mistake to even think about leaving this place. They'll have us for breakfast."

  "Aye? Well, they'll find me tough and chewy if they try."

  He had nothing else to say. I took his answer back to Davies and Wilko.

  "Can it be done?"

  Wilko nodded.

  "We up the gain to the max and when we need to, we hit the button. But there's no way to test it. Either it'll work, or it won't. We might only succeed in pissing them off."

  "Aye? Well that'll be a result in itself. Get to it lads. The night's wasting."

  It was wasting faster than I'd thought. The cap took a call on the sat phone ten minutes later and once he was finished called the sheriff and me together with him.

  "We've got rescue choppers inbound. Rendezvous in an hour. But there's a problem. We need an open space for them to come down to our position. I'm thinking that'll have to be the supermarket car park. Can we defend it for long enough to get the people away to safety?"

  The sheriff spoke first.

  "There's two fire trucks out the back here," she said. "We moved them out to make enough room for the people. But we can load just about everybody in them."

  "And Wilko and Davies have a plan," I added, and told them about the collars and the broadcast. "Then we've just got the weather to worry about."

  Even as I said it, I noticed that the wind wasn't howling with the same intensity as before beyond the door.

  "It's blowing itself out," Sheriff Sue said. "We can do this."

  I was starting to think she was right.

  Getting the townspeople awake, on their feet, and willing to move out was a job in itself, but the sheriff went at it full tilt and it was obvious that the locals would all follow her lead. In ten minutes they were all ready, swaddled in whatever clothes or coverings they could muster. We even got Watkins on his feet although he grumbled mightily.

  "That's okay," I said, dropping him back onto the cot after his first moan of discontent. "We'll just leave you here, shall we? Close the door at our back. Wouldn't want anything to get in, would you?"

  He complied quickly enough after that.

  The next step was more difficult; the trucks were out back in a car park. On our last foray outside I hadn't even seen them through the snow, but Sheriff Sue insisted they were there, and her word was getting to be good enough for me.

  "I should go first," she said. "I'll fetch one truck over as close to the door as we can get it where we can load up safely." She turned to the captain. "Can I have a couple of your lads for backup?"

  I put a hand up before the cap spoke.

  "I'll go."

  I looked over to Jennings.

  "You're with me, lad," I said. He looked surprised, but came at the call. "Rule one. Don't fuck up."

  "Rule two, don't shoot me," Sheriff Sue added.

  She led us out into the night.

  The wind had dropped considerably and the snow, rather than coming at us horizontally, fell in big soft flakes the size of my thumb. The fire trucks were less than ten yards away, clearly visible now that range of vision had improved.

  "Watch my back," the sheriff shouted and without waiting for an answer headed off in a run for the nearest truck.

  I held my breath until she reached the door but nothing came out of the snow and seconds later the roar of the engine came loud above the wind and we were almost blinded as the huge staring headlights came on full beam. Seconds after that she'd brought the truck round, side on to the door so that loading could begin in back.

  That first loading went smooth and fast. We got half the townsfolk in, an older chap took on the driving duties and I sent Davies and Wilko with him up front to ride shotgun. Wilko handed me a wee black box that had been wrapped almost totally in duct tape apart from a big red button on top,

  "Even you can't fuck that one up, Sarge," Davies said with a smile. "If there's bother, hit the panic button. Hopefully it'll give them a wee fright and pause for thought. If it disnae work, at least you'll have something else to chuck at them."

  The sheriff spoke to the elderly driver.

  "Just take her slow round the front to the main doors," she said. "I'll be bringing the other truck up behind you soon as we're loaded."

  The truck drove off slowly to my right and once again I had to watch the sheriff scuttle off into the snow, this time heading for the second truck.

  The wolf arrived just as she reached the truck door, loping out of the gloom to stand between me and her, equidistant from either of us.

  -8-

  I was still getting my rifle aimed when the wolf turned its back on me. I saw its muscles tense and bunch, saw clearly that it was most definitely a male, then even as I let off a shot it leaped. My aim was off; I couldn't chance hitting the sheriff and my shot went off and away uselessly into the storm. Everything seemed to slow down. The beast sailed through the air with an exaggerated hang like a long jumper in slow-mo. The sheriff was still trying to get her own weapon raised but was going to be too late and I'd already broken into a run that I knew was going to be no bloody use at all in helping her.

  I ran anyway, my weapon raised, hoping for a shot. I was three paces in when I remembered the wee black box, five paces in before I managed to get it out of my jacket pocket. The beast landed paws first on the sheriff's chest, knocking her back against the grille of the fire truck. She got her rifle up double handed in front of her and the wolf bit down hard on the stock; if it had been her arm, she would have lost a hand at the wrist.

  I pushed down on the red button.

  The result was instantaneous.

  The wolf leapt as if electrocuted, all four limbs spasming in a grotesque dance before it shook itself as if shedding water and turned to stare in my direction. It had no thought now of attack. Its tail went down, tucked under the back legs and it crawled away on its belly as well as it was able, eyes down, not looking at us, the classic submissive dog posture. Within seconds it was lost in the snow.

  "Well, that works," I said as I helped the sheriff stand up straight. She didn't answer; she was looking at the stock of her rifle and the deep teeth marks embedded there.

  "I hope it never has to again," she said. "We should get the flock out of here."

  It was only then I thought to look for Jennings. Far from backing us up he was still standing in the doorway of the firehall. He didn't even have his weapon raised and was just staring blankly, slack-jawed into the snow in the direction the wolf had taken. He looked exactly like a lad who had just pished down his trouser leg in fright. A phrase came to mind from yon animated movie about the rabbits; Jennings had gone 'frit'.

  I didn't have time to deal with him then; we had an evacuation to complete and that had to come first. Thankfully, the remaining townspeople all fitted into the rear cabin of the truck. I put Jennings in there too and told him he was in charge of Watkins but I'm not sure he heard me. At least I knew he was safely locked away in back when I joined the cap and the sheriff up front.

  "Wagon's roll," the sheriff said and took us round to the front of the station. Seconds later we were following the lead truck along the main road leading into the town center.

  The old lad in front of us wasn't taking any chances. We crept along at barely walking pace. Our headlights lit up nothing apart from the rear of the other truck and there was only darkness and falling snow on either side.

  "So the lads'
wee radio idea worked then?" the cap said to my right. I was wedged tight between him and the sheriff in the driver's seat. I badly wanted a smoke but had one hand on my rifle and the other on the red button.

  "Worked a treat, Cap," I said. "Sent the wee dug off wi' its tail covering its bollocks."

  "Careful, lad," the cap replied. "Don't get too cocky."

  "Who, me?" I answered, and it was the sheriff who laughed.

  "Thanks for saving my skin, anyway," she said. "I owe you one."

  "A beer and a burger would do fine just about now," I replied.

  "We passed the diner, just back there," she said, deadpan. "I don't think it's open tonight."

  We arrived at the supermarket parking area with no further calumny just a few minutes later, pulling up beside the other truck close to the side of the building. The sheriff left the engine running and the lights on. They showed only snow and darkness ahead of us.

  "How long?" she asked the cap.

  "Twenty minutes maybe," he replied. "Depends on the weather in the area and how it is above this shit."

  "So we sit tight in the meantime?"

  "We sit tight," the cap replied. "Smoke 'em if you've got 'em."

  I lit up for all three of us and passed the smokes around. The sheriff cracked one of the windows enough to let smoke out and not too much of the cold in. It also let in a mournful wail that carried loud and clear in the night above what remained of the wind. It had a choral, almost electronic tone to it, reminding me of my misspent youth and nights spent in dark rooms smoking pot and listening to someone's dad's aged prog-rock albums. A chill settled in my spine at the sound.

  "How many are there?" the cap asked. "Do you know?"

  The sheriff shrugged.

  "Given how many we've put done so far? Twenty? Maybe more. Your man in the back is the only one who knows for sure but I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him."

  The cap spoke up, almost as if talking to himself.

  "We'll not ken much more until we get up to the research station and find out what the fuck was really going on up there. But first things first; let's get the civilians out to safety first then we'll go see what's what."