Bonus Blog Fiction: Alpha Male

Today, I’m adding an extra story to the blog, something previously published in issue 4 of Necrotic Tissue. You can still pick up the original printing of this story at the NT archives, and if you like the magazine, consider getting a subscription, since NT has now gone to a print format.

The rights reverted back to me on this story, so I’ve gone back to run another round of edits on this tale for my online edition. Of course, if you read the NT version, you also get the nifty artwork. But either way, you can read it for free.

So, enough introduction. I hope you enjoy Alpha Male.

Paul Blake watched the overcast grey sky while he waited for his client to arrive. Normally the August weather of San Antonio would have been hot and dry, but a number of storms had kept the city on the verge of flooding conditions for the entire week of his visit.

Raindrops beat upon the rooftops of the buildings outside the hotel window. Paul’s gaze drifted to the mall, which the hotel sat adjacent to, keeping track of the uniformed officers who wandered along a small patrol area on either side of the river. The cops were easy to spot because there weren’t any of the usual throngs of people moving toward and away from the mall or resting in the outdoor portion of the food court. The temperamental weather kept most everyone indoors.

His attention moved to a man standing outside the mall entrance, who turned to look up at the hotel. Flicking his eyes back toward the river, he still saw the man staring at him.

Turning at a knock on the door, he glanced back at an empty sidewalk. His mouth creased in a frown while he searched the sidewalks for the man.

At the second knock, he moved moving to the door to open it, stepping aside for his client and two heavyset guards. One guard carried a slender black briefcase which seemed tiny compared to his massive frame. As the guards stepped past him, Paul noted the leather shoulder harnesses under their jackets.

The guards closed the drapes and stood by the window while his client, Mario Lopez, took a seat in the only chair in the room. “Well—”

“Mister Lopez, I’ve never worked for you before, so I’d like to discuss some rules that I prefer to work by,” Paul said as he moved to sit at the foot of the bed.

“Of course.”

“I do not have a flat fee. We will discuss what you want, and then I will decide how much I need. If you have a problem with my price, you can hire someone else. I will need half of my fee upfront in cash, and the other half can be paid after the assignment has been completed. Finally, you may not contact me for another assignment for at least four months, maybe longer depending on how high profile the job is going to be.”

“I can live with your terms, but the person you’re looking for isn’t high profile in any conventional sense.” Mario nodded to his guard, who opened the briefcase to pass a file folder to Paul. “His name is Javier Fernandez, and he’s operating a criminal cult outside of Universal City. They’re just now starting to move in on our territory.”

Paul nodded and opened the folder. “How good is his security?”

“It’s very tight. He has four elite guards who are well armed. His cult has an additional ten members. They are all skilled fighters, and they’re also armed.”

“Is there any electronic surveillance?”

“No, just some horrendously big dogs. Your best chance of getting Javier out in the open is during one of his sacrifices. He holds them in the woods behind his property. He selects people to become new recruits, and if they don’t pass his tests, he kills them.”

“How often does he test new recruits?”

“Usually once a month.”

Paul arched an eyebrow as he glanced up from the file. “How long has this cult been established if they only have fifteen members?”

“They’ve been around for a long time from what we can gather, but their numbers are low because the tests are almost impossible to pass. I’ve been aware of them for a year now, and I’ve yet to see them take on any new members.”

Paul looked back down to finish reading the file and closed the folder. “Mister Lopez, these people are zealots, and so I’m going to disagree with your assessment. This is a high profile case, and my price will need to reflect that to cover my escape to the other side of the planet.”

Mario smiled. “Name your terms, mister Smith.”

Paul looked down at the folder. Any ideas of working in close had been pushed aside after he’d looked over the profiles of the four security guards. For every potential risk and weapon purchase, he added another fee. “Two million. I’ll be expecting half of my payment by the end of this week.”

“I can pay you right now. I came prepared for the worst, and you weren’t even close to my conservative estimate.”

Paul turned to look at the guard with the briefcase when the window burst under a hail of gunfire. He was shielded from the first flurry of bullets by the guard’s massive body, and he dropped from the bed to the floor, turning his head to see Mario’s bullet riddled body in front of the chair.

Crawling over to the dead guard, he grabbed the briefcase first and opened it. Most of the bottom was stacked with negotiable bearer bonds. Paul put the folder into the briefcase and shut it before slipping his hand under the guard’s jacket to pull out a fifty caliber pistol from the holster harness.

The door slammed open, and Paul rolled behind the bed for cover as two men armed with assault rifles ran into the room.

He sat up and fired, dropping one gunner with a shot that struck the middle of the man’s chest. The other gunner was ducking behind the frame of the door when Paul fired again, and the bullet caught the man’s arm, nearly severing it just below his shoulder.

Paul crept under the sill of the window to grab the briefcase, and then he dashed across the room to the bathroom door. Gunfire erupted through the window to follow him, and as he slipped into the bathroom, he caught sight of another gunner in the hallway.

Shooting the gunner in the side of his chest as he tried to edge into the hotel room, Paul leapt out of the bathroom and through the front door, lowering the gun to put a bullet through the second gunner’s head. Another gunner stepped out of the stairwell door and fired, leaving a trail of bullet holes up the wall to the right of Paul’s head. Paul raised the gun to fire, and the top of the gunner’s head exploded before he flopped onto the floor.

Paul walked backward toward the elevators, and he glanced over his shoulder every few feet for signs of trouble.

He passed a woman who stared at him from the door of her room. “Go back inside, Miss. I’m with the police.”

The woman nodded and shut the door.

That shouldn’t have worked quite so well, he thought.

He tapped the button to call the elevator, and then knelt to open the briefcase and lay the gun inside. He got up and stepped into the elevator when the doors opened, trying to look calm even though his back had broken out in a cold sweat.

He let his mind wander back over the meeting, and his thoughts returned to the man standing outside the mall before Mario arrived. The timing of the attack was too perfect for it to be a coincidence.

Paul walked across the lobby and out the front revolving glass door, smiling at the doorman as he stepped outside. “Did you hear that?” the doorman asked.

“Hear what? I was in the elevator just now. Why, what happened?”

“There was some kind of gunfight. I think it happened on your side of the hotel.”

“It didn’t happen in my room.” Paul shrugged before he pointed at the briefcase. “I’ve got to deliver these documents across town before my meeting tonight.”

“Be careful, sir,” the doorman warned.

Paul nodded. “Always.”

***

Paul signed into the motel with a fake ID and went to his room to check the news. He wasn’t worried about being connected to the shooting. Mario reserved the room in his name, and Paul’s room was several floors higher.

He could return later to collect his belongings and check out, but he had no intention of being around while the police and the media were both covering the hotel. Still, he was curious to know who he’d killed, and he hoped the media would be able to provide a small hint.

He turned on the TV and sat down on the bed before he opened the briefcase. A smile crept across his lips as he counted the bearer bonds. Mario had brought six million if his math was right.

His attention moved to the news report, where the hotel shootout was the top story. That much was expected, but his expression changed to confusion when the announcer said that no bodies were recovered.

The police working the back area of the hotel were gunned down, explaining why they hadn’t run in immediately, but he still doubted there was time to remove the bodies before more cops arrived.

He shut the TV off and laid back on the bed to think. There was already a lookout posted outside who knew which room the meeting was arranged to be in. Other members of the cult might have reserved a room in the hotel in addition to taking up a room in the building across the river. When Paul left, the lookouts collected their dead members and took them into one of the rooms.

Paul shook his head. While it seemed like the only likely possibility, he couldn’t understand why the cultists would also collect the bodies of Mario and his guards. If the bodies were in one of the rooms, he knew it couldn’t be too long before the police found them. Deciding to play a waiting game for a few hours, he turned the TV on low to listen for any further updates and moved back to the bed to lay down again.

***

The food court outside the mall was almost empty when Paul stopped in to eat a light dinner of chicken over rice while he flipped through a newspaper. He cast a bored glance back at the hotel occasionally, and the mall was closing when he decided to walk into the lobby. The night crews of the hotel had signed in for their shifts, leaving him free to go to his room and check out without problems.

He was walking back to his car in the garage when he saw a flicker of movement to his right. Though he turned his head quickly, no one was in or around the cars. Pivoting in a slow circle first to be sure he was alone, Paul began walking faster.

Paranoia had him checking his mirrors every few minutes, and it wasn’t long before he picked out the black Suburban that trailed behind his rented Audi. The SUV was several cars back on the highway, and Paul decided to test the driver by heading for the exit.

He looked up in the mirror to see the SUV speed up while the passenger slipped a pistol out of the side window. His instincts screamed at him to move, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the mirror until the rear glass shattered from the first shot.

The right tire thumped over a curb, and he yanked the steering wheel left to swing the car into a wide turn before he floored the accelerator.

He resisted the sudden urge to shake his head, but he knew what he’d seen in his mirror was impossible.

The man shooting at him from the passenger seat of the Suburban was dead. Paul had nearly taken his arm off before splattering his brains across a hallway wall.

Sitting up in his seat, he looked at the mirror and recognized the driver as the fourth gunner in the hallway. When he glanced back up again, he found a man propping himself on the rear passenger side window to aim a short stockless assault rifle toward the car.

Paul swerved into the next turn, smiling when the SUV tried to follow and pitched the gunner out the window. One down, he thought before his smile fell. But he should be dead already.

The suburban broke off pursuit, and Paul moved onto the back streets to avoid catching their attention again.

***

Paul sat on the bed and scowled at the floor. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn’t wrap his head around being chased by dead men.

Mulling his thoughts slowly, he opened his suitcase to take out what looked like a small shaving kit bag. He went to the bathroom and undressed before opening the bag to pull out two bottles of hair dye solution. Mixing them together, he worked to cover his dark blonde hair before he traced his eyebrows with the dye. He leaned over the mirror to watch the solution darken, and then got into the shower to rinse it off.

Long after he shut the water off, Paul still stood in the tub while he stared at the wall. He hadn’t had time to prepare for the job, and his mind whirled as he considered and rejected one idea after another.

But with the cultists looking for him in the city, Javier was likely to be home with only his four guards for company. Paul had a good rifle for that situation, and he had Javier’s address. He’d also accepted his payment, which meant he still had a job to finish.

He walked back to the mirror and toweled off his now dark brown hair. Moving back to the bed, he dressed in a black outfit with a shoulder harness to hold two nine millimeter pistols and a spare clip on each side. The harness had two hard sheaths mounted on the back for a set of eight inch daggers, and he locked the blades into place before he pulled on the harness.

Slipping on a dark suede jacket, he checked the pockets and cuffs for his spare weapons then gathered up his luggage to move it to the car.

He drove to a twenty-four hour storage facility to swap rental cars and transfer his bags over to the new car. Returning to the storage room a final time for his ‘toolkit bag’, he got into the BMW and settled the stash of extra weapons and clips into the passenger seat before he began to sketch out a plan.

***

Paul stopped the car a quarter of a mile past the property. While the house was situated in the middle of a wide open plain to prevent anyone from sneaking in, the property was boxed on three sides by heavy clumps of wooded areas. It would be perfect cover for sniping.

Pulling the smaller rifle case from out of his toolkit bag, Paul got out of the car and jogged quietly back toward the house. He moved away from the street to avoid any traffic that might pass by, yet he didn’t hear another car pass even after he had arrived at the edge of the tree line. Paul knelt down to open the rifle case when he heard the bolt of the assault rifle slide back. With no way to reach his weapons, he raised his hands and waited.

“Stand up slowly, and don’t try to turn around,” a woman’s voice instructed. “My friends and I would hate to kill you.”

“Can I ask—”

“No.”

Paul nodded and walked to the house. He noticed there were no fences surrounding the property and his mind nagged at him that there were supposed to be large dogs roaming around.

He heard no footsteps behind him, but he continued into the house without further prodding. In the main hallway, he found Javier Fernandez waiting for him.

Paul glanced back at the four cultists behind him, and the woman’s face was instantly familiar. He’d passed her in the hall of the hotel.

“Before we can talk, you will need to lose the guns, Mr. Blake,” Javier said.

Paul turned to regard the old man with a smile to cover for his unease. None of his clients knew his real name. “Just the guns?”

Javier laughed. “Yes, just put them down on the table over there. If you behave yourself, you may live long enough to collect them and leave.”

Paul walked slowly as he pulled his guns from their holsters to lay them on the table on the left side of the main hallway.

Javier turned to walk into a room on the right, and Paul crossed the hallway while he cast another sideways glance at the cultists. Where are his elite guards?

He stepped into a well furnished den. Javier took a seat in front of the empty fireplace and waved for Paul to take the other. Paul glanced back to see the woman close the door, and there was a loud clank as if a heavy iron lock had been closed.

“Mr. Blake, you were told we are a cult who randomly selects people to join us. We aren’t just looking for anyone, but the best physical specimens of the human race. We aren’t a cult either.”

“No? So what are you then?”

“We’re a pack, and we’re looking for the most dangerous killers in the world. An associate of mine has studied you for a long time, and he feels you are one of the very best there is. He tells me you’ve never given up a contract, and you’ve never failed.”

Paul shrugged his shoulders and made a faint cough, hoping that Javier wouldn’t notice him drawing his hand up into the cuff of his jacket. “I can’t say that. There was someone I didn’t kill.” Pushing his hand back out of the cuff, he made another louder cough.

“Really?” Javier smirked. “I hadn’t heard that.”

“Yes, well I’m still working on him.” Paul put the side of his balled fist over his lips as if to stifle another cough and blew the clump of crushed peach pits into Javier’s face.

The old man reacted perfectly, gasping in shock and inhaling the deadly powder down into his lungs to shred them on contact. His mouth filled with frothing blood, and Paul didn’t spare him a second glance before stepping to the window to check outside.

He stumbled back when a huge black wolf leapt at the window and thumped against it.

Another thump sounded at the door, but his gaze snapped back to Javier instead as the old man stood up.

Javier spat out a mouthful of blood and laughed. “Very good, Mr. Blake! Very good indeed.”

He walked to a bookshelf and pulled at a book spine. Across the room, the grandfather clock swiveled away from the wall.

“You’ve certainly passed the first part of your test, and now we’re ready to move onto the finals.”

Paul was still staring at the slender passageway behind the clock, and something about Javier’s voice changing made him reluctant to turn around.

He heard clothing rip and glanced over his shoulder to see Javier’s torso extending and becoming wider. All over his skin, grey hairs were sprouting, and his dark brown eyes had become bright silver.

Javier grinned with a set of teeth that were growing sharper every second. “I suggest you run, Mr. Blake.” The old man’s voice rose in growling laughter before his jaw started to distend.

Paul was already moving toward the passageway before he looked back around. All right, think. What can kill a werewolf?

His mind blanked, and he instead began a mental listing of the items he was still carrying. He had a garrote in his jacket as well as his daggers. Aside from them, he doubted most of the smaller weapons would be of much use. He drew one of the daggers and held it out in front of him in case a wolf was waiting at the end of the passageway.

Javier’s laughter was beginning to turn more into a constant baying, and Paul felt little comfort that in his bestial form, the pack leader wouldn’t be able to slip into the passageway. Wherever it led, he knew he was running into a gauntlet.

Emerging in a cellar, he looked around in the low light before his eyes fell on the machete. Putting his dagger away before he picked it up, he moved to the stairs leading outside. Paul pushed the cellar door open and stepped out into the wet grass, trying to figure out which direction his car was parked.

His skin prickled when a shadow fell over his, and he dropped into a roll, pivoting on his heels as soon as he had his feet on the ground again.

He’d barely straightened up when the massive black wolf leapt at him. What looked like paws uncurled to reveal freakishly long fingers, each one tipped with a sharp black claw.

Paul stepped out to the side of the attack and hacked a deep wound into the shoulder of the wolf. It roared and swiped at him with its other hand, and he sank to strike the lower leg of the wolf. It dropped onto its back, and he was moving to drive the machete through the wolf’s open mouth when it batted him aside.

The machete flew from his grasp before he connected with the ground on his back. He tumbled with the impact to lessen the damage, and the dagger handles dug into his lower back. He knew it was a minor pain compared to what he would feel if he didn’t keep moving.

He got to his feet and pulled a dagger as he spun to face the wolf loping toward him for another attack. It drew its arm back for a swipe, and Paul leapt at the beast instead of away from it.

He drove the point of the dagger up through the bottom of the wolf’s jaw and let it fall limply off of the blade before he turned to run across the pasture.

A sleek white wolf was running abreast of him to his left, and he veered right, knowing that he was being forced to move back toward the house. He was determined to take the fight out into the woods, where he had some chance of slowing the monsters down.

Behind him, the thumping steps of the white wolf drew closer, and he heard the long delay that told him the beast had leapt. Paul ducked and cut back toward the tree line, not looking back though he heard the wolf growling in frustration.

He was almost at the tree line when he noticed the grey wolf waiting for him. Paul couldn’t slow down, but he still did just long enough to draw the other dagger.

The grey wolf rose up to meet him, its silver eyes stretching wide when Paul sank and slid between its legs instead.

He stabbed both daggers up to slash what he hoped were the femoral arteries. Blood spurted from the wolf’s legs, and it started to topple back. Paul slid under it before the white wolf plowed into the grey wolf, sending all three rolling across the ground. Paul managed to land on top, and he pressed the advantage to sink his daggers into the white wolf’s eyes.

Paul stood and glanced toward the house to get reoriented. Two things gave him pause. The first was the six wolves converging on him, and the second was the realization that he was on the wrong side of the property. If he turned to run, he would be headed into deep woods with the potential of being lost in the dark.

Still he turned to run. The only alternative was to become food for the pack.

He kept his head down while he searched the shadows in front of him for obstacles. The beasts were gaining on him, and he still had no idea of how far he could go before he would have to find a way back to his car and his weapons.

The sound of rushing water gave him hope of escape, but it also masked the sounds of his hunters, forcing Paul to glance back. In doing so, he missed the root that caused him to pitch forward into the flooded drainage ditch.

The fast current pulled at him, and he resisted it until he realized the path of the ditch could put him much closer to his car. He swam with the current, glancing back to see that all six wolves were crossing back and forth over the ditch. They were gaining even with the speed of the current aiding him.

Hey, can’t you drown a werewolf? a voice at the back of his mind asked. He shot the idea down with another thought. It doesn’t matter if I can or not. There’s six of them, and one of me.

The ditch opened into a wide stock pond, and Paul groaned when he was able to stand in the slower current. The water wasn’t deep, only coming up to his hips, but it was still high enough to make running impossible while not being deep enough to impede the thinly distorted limbs of the wolves.

Paul expected the wolves to splash in after him, but instead the six stood watching him with wide grins. Turning his head to look back over his shoulder, he found another three wolves coming from the direction of his car. Another four black wolves arrived from the house.

Yeah, there’s the elite guards, he thought bleakly.

The wolves circled the pond, and Paul panted quietly, almost breathing in time with the pack while his eyes flicked back and forth.

The grey wolf moved out of the woods to step into the water. As it moved, he could see that it was clenching and unclenching its fists.

He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but when the random thought came to him that the beast wanted to grapple, Paul started thinking of a backup plan. He sank to his knees in the water and reached into this jacket for his garrote.

Curling his fingers around the oak handles, he kicked off and swam several yards away before he stood up.

The wolf was almost on top of him, and it leapt for him with a loud growl. Paul sank back, barely avoiding having his throat ripped open by the wolf’s hand. Taking hold of the long wet fur on the wolf’s side, he let its momentum pull him up before he stepped over the back of the wolf and sank down.

Though the wolf thrashed to keep its head from sinking under the water, it wasn’t able to get its back legs set on the bottom of the pond.

Paul unfurled the garrote and looped it around the head of the wolf. The wire caught for a split second on its ears, but he tugged once and slipped the choker over the beast’s throat. Setting his feet on the broad shoulders of the wolf, he stepped down while pulling with both his arms and his back.

The wolf was still struggling to gain traction in the soft mud of the pond. It started to rise under Paul, and he dropped his legs around the wide flaring sides of the wolf to lock his ankles. He tensed his legs, and a thick stream of bubbles burst on the surface of the water.

Seconds passed before the wolf stiffened and started to sink.

Paul sank with it, still pulling on the handles of the garrote though his arms were shaking and his lungs burned with the need for air. He finally had to release his hold when his fingers started to tingle.

When he rose up out of the water, he knew the fight was lost. While he had remained under the shallow water, the wolves had closed the circle around him.

He opened his mouth to yell a challenge to the beasts when one of the wolves behind him raked its claws across his back. The jacket, harness, and shirt were shredded as easily as his flesh was, and he fell forward, his vision blurring into darkness before he hit the water.

***

Paul woke up to the sound of a phone ringing. He opened his eyes, stunned to find himself back in his motel room. He glanced at the window, wondering what had happened.

The phone kept ringing, and he got up, groaning at a dull ache in his back as he crossed the room to pick it up. “Hello?”

“Mister Spencer? This is the front desk. It’s almost eleven, and if you don’t intend to check out, we’ll need to have you come to the office.”

“Um, yeah, I’ll be there in a few minutes to pay for another day.” He didn’t wait for a reply before he hung up and went to the window to look for his car. It was parked outside.

Paul’s brow furrowed as his expression became baffled. He turned and looked around the room before he spotted the briefcase on the table. He opened it and saw the guard’s gun was still laying on top of the bonds.

However, tucked under the gun was a white envelope. Paul slid it out from under the gun to open it and unfold the letter.

Mr. Blake,

First, allow me to apologize for our crude methods, but I had to be absolutely sure of your skills. Our pack is run by rite of strength, and it has been my belief for many years that we are in need of new blood. Javier has always been a good leader to us, but he had grown arrogant in his old age. We are all an older breed, and we need a new direction, a new purpose. I believe you can give that to us.

Last night, you proved me right by killing Javier. He was arrogant enough to accept the challenge without looking into who you were, but I have been doing my homework, and I know exactly what you are. You are one of the most lethal humans alive today, and we need a young killer like you to lead our pack.

It will take a few weeks before you begin to notice any changes. During that time, I would suggest you take the money and enjoy your remaining life as a human being.

You may have thoughts of running away from us, but a wolf cannot survive on its own in this world. You will either come to understand that and return to us, or you will die. We will not follow you while you make this choice, but should you return to the house, you will have our full loyalty. I hope you will make the right choice, and I look forward to seeing you again.

Sincerely,

Mario Lopez

Paul smiled at the formality of the letter. He looked back down at the money while his smile became a bitter smirk. He’d been given a few weeks to live as a human being, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember when he had last acted even remotely human. He was a cold-blooded killer, and his jobs had taken him further and further away from his human side.

Paul stared down at the letter. Well congratulate yourself, buddy, he thought. You just got promoted.