Primeval (Werewolf Apocalypse Book 2) Read online

  Primeval (Werewolf Apocalypse Book 2)

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Primeval

  William D. Carl

  Published by Permuted Press at Smashwords.

  Copyright 2012 William D. Carl

  Cover art by Conzpiracy Digital

  www.PermutedPress.com

  For Gina, my sister, who would have loved it.

  Rest in peace.

  From World Weekly News

  June 13

  ‘Werewolf Disease Still Flourishing’

  Byline: James Creed

  The mysterious Lycan Disease, commonly known as the Werewolf Virus, is still incubating and even thriving in several pockets of America. The disease started as an outbreak in Cincinnati, Ohio, eight months ago, and it was widely believed to have been contained by the U.S. Army. This reporter, however, has been notified of many more outbreaks across the Midwest in the past few months.

  “We thought we’d beaten this thing,” claimed one anonymous source from the U.S. military. “There was an antibody that was used to inoculate everyone in the tristate area, but you can’t inoculate the whole population, can you? Some people are going to fall through the cracks.”

  A second anonymous source told this reporter, “There seem to be pockets of outbreaks occurring all over the Midwest. In Ohio, Indiana, Kentucky, Illinois. We tracked down a group of werewolves in West Virginia that were living in the mountains, hunting wild game at night when they turned. Whenever we discover a group like this, living in disregard to the well-being of everyone else in America, we must either force them to get their Lycan shots, or we have to destroy them. It’s never easy to kill fellow Americans, but if this disease goes full-blown across the country, I don’t know what we could do to save ourselves.”

  General Taylor Burns, who supervised the siege on Cincinnati and ultimately discovered four of the few dozen people immune to the virus, says, “I can’t say much. We’re doing everything we can. No further comment.”

  But a second source close to the general stated, “The number of outbreaks is growing by the full moon cycle. It seems like every time there’s a full moon, there’s another flare-up of werewolf activity, and not just in one or two places. Still, for what it’s worth, we’re doing what we can.”

  This reporter wonders if the government is doing enough to stop the eventual spread of the disease.

  From World Weekly News

  October, 21

  ‘Interview with a Werewolf’

  Byline: James Creed

  More than a year after the initial outbreak of the Lycan Disease, more and more humans are embracing the werewolf lifestyle. Despite the best efforts of the government and the influence of the military, many people have refused to be inoculated and are protesting to protect their rights as citizens. Recently, this reporter had a chance to speak with one such rebel, who wishes to remain anonymous to ensure that he is not killed by one of the government’s Lycan Sniper Teams.

  Creed – Thank you for agreeing to this interview.

  Lycan – People need to know. They need to know what’s going on out there.

  Creed – Why have you chosen to retain the virus in your system?

  Lycan – I love the feeling of freedom it gives me. There’s an animal side to each of us we usually keep buried. Humans don’t like being reminded that we are all only animals, after all. I don’t think tamping down that bestial self is good for any of us. We need to accept what we are.

  Creed – But aren’t you making yourself less human?

  Lycan – Only during the full moon. God has given us a gift. He is allowing us to be ourselves for a few hours each month, our primeval, antediluvian state, and who are we to disregard God’s wishes?

  Creed – Yet many claim the virus is a chemical weapon gone wrong. All the evidence points toward this being a government-sponsored genetics project.

  Lycan – Yet it was all started by one man, a single man named Jean Cowell who was researching how the Lycan Virus worked. You realize that there have always been werewolves. They have always been a part of God’s natural plan. Cowell used his genius to separate the virus, and, in his wisdom, to share it with the rest of the world.

  Creed – Yet Cowell’s own journals explained that this was an accident, and the virus was never meant to go airborne.

  Lycan – This is simply more proof of God’s mastery at work. And soon, more will be revealed.

  Creed – What do you mean by that?

  Lycan – Let me just say that many of us believe our animalistic sides are far more true to our nature than the human sides. We are adopting a more savage aspect, something primitive, closer to Eden. With any luck, we will do so permanently.

  Creed – Are you saying you have discovered a way to maintain the Lycan form at all times?

  Lycan – Soon, we will no longer be governed by the whims of the lunar cycles. We will remain in our primeval states permanently.

  Creed – Wouldn’t that put you directly in the path of the snipers? There have been rumors they have been hunting rogue werewolves.

  Lycan – I can confirm this is no rumor. It’s the truth. Many of my followers have been shot down like dogs.

  Creed – Followers? It sounds like you’ve established a church.

  Lycan – (baring his teeth) Who says we haven’t? The Chapel of the Savage is open and taking on more and more acolytes every day.

  Creed – Will this mean war with the human race if you achieve your goal? Humans versus Lycans?

  Lycan – You tell me, human. Will you leave our kind alone to hunt as we must? Will you let us live as the beasts that we know we are? Perhaps, we will be the ones to make the first move.

  From World Weekly News

  August 31, the next year

  ‘Lycan Destruction’

  Byline: James Creed

  Another Chapel of the Savage was infiltrated by the Lycan Sniper Team, headed by General Taylor Burns and his Staff Sergeant Nicole Truitt. The Chapel, a warehouse in Eastern Pennsylvania, was bombed first, then snipers shot and killed all the Lycans running from the destruction and fire. Fifty-seven werewolves were killed in the attack, and one human servant was taken prisoner, a Mrs. Georgia Hodges of Altoona, Pennsylvania.

  “You see what they did?” the woman wept as she was carried aw
ay by Lycan Sniper Team members. “They killed whole families. Murder. It’s murder. But you’ll get yours soon enough.”

  When asked what she meant by her threats, the woman, obviously mad, screamed, “You will all get what you deserve. Humans are finished. The beast will rule over all. We have our plans in place. We’ll strike at the heart of you, at the heart of all you hold dear. When the savage arise, you won’t be able to fight back.”

  General Burns commented, “The rebellion of the so-called Chapel of the Savage has to be put down. There isn’t enough room in America for these creatures that only want to destroy the American way of life. They have no compunctions about killing or eating their fellow citizens. You see this woman?” Here, he motioned toward Mrs. Hodges. “They find the weak-willed or insane to carry out their deeds. Meanwhile, they plot against all of us. If they want to live like this, like werewolves and animals, then let them be put in a camp someplace, or maybe an isolated island, where they can be as wild as they want to be. As long as they can’t harm the rest of us. As long as they don’t kill more innocent victims.”

  Sniper Nicole Truitt, who would look as comfortable in the pages of the September Vogue magazine as she did in her camouflage and weaponry, stated, “You did notice that they were all fully changed creatures. These were werewolves. In the daytime. And there isn’t a full moon for another week. Think about it.”

  This reporter isn’t afraid to admit he felt a chill when he realized that some of the Chapel Congregation have found a way to stay in Lycan form in defiance of the lunar cycles.

  From World Weekly News

  September 18

  ‘Monster Rats Invade New York!’

  Byline: James Creed

  Residents of lower Manhattan were terrified to find gigantic rats spilling from an alley near the 9/11 Memorial. Dozens of the creatures, measuring up to thirty inches in length, excluding the tail, attacked a bus full of tourists. There were no fatalities, and the rodents scampered through sewer grates to escape the wrath of the British Nannies Corporation, who, armed with umbrellas, beat off the terrifying creatures.

  “Blimey,” stated Miss Cornelia Trollope. “I’ve never seen such a thing. They were as long as my arm and they had these long ears and red eyes. They also looked somehow wrong, misshapen, as though they were mutated. I have seen the reports about them werewolves on the telly. Cor, maybe there are were-rats now.”

  This reporter wonders…

  Chapter 1

  11:15 a.m.

  “John, you’ve got to cut the werewolf bullshit,” Steve Debarr said, his mouth bristling moistly around the nub of an unlit cigar. “People are sick of hearing about it.”

  “It’s the biggest story of our time,” John Creed replied. Sitting across the massive oak desk in a chair two inches lower than his boss’s throne, he ran a tan-from-a-can hand through his messy brown hair. As usual, some of it stuck up after being mussed, but John paid it no mind and turned his ice-cold blue eyes on Debarr.

  “It’s getting stale,” Debarr said.

  “Things are happening out there, Steve. Big things. Have you been reading what I’m sending you? These bastards don’t even have to wait until a full moon anymore. They’re living their lives out as freaking animals in the mountains.”

  “Well, more power to them. The ACLU is getting involved…”

  “Oh, great. What are they going to say about it? Everyone has the right to live the way they want to?”

  “Probably something along those lines, yes.”

  “Even if that means devouring your neighbors? Come on, Steve, you and I both know that this mutation thing is big news. Twelve point headlines, at least.”

  “John…”

  The reporter held his hands up banner-like in front of his face. “Werewolves Take Over the World. Human Beings Outnumbered. Can you see it?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  “And this is just the beginning. You see my column about the rats?”

  “There are always stories about rats in New York. We deal in tabloid journalism.”

  “This isn’t any ‘a rat ate my baby’ scenario, buddy. These are two and three footers, pouring out of the sewers.”

  “I read it. Then, they all scampered back to their lairs underground. Didn’t they make a movie of that back in the eighties? Put rat tails on dachshunds or something?”

  “These aren’t made up dogs,” John grumbled. “These were real. I have witnesses…”

  “Who had just finished a couple of quarts of Guinness…”

  “That doesn’t mean they didn’t see what they saw.”

  “If they saw little green men from the moon, would you print that too?”

  John ran his other hand through his hair, causing his bangs to flop down into his eyes. He was so excited, he ignored the intrusion.

  “If there was more than one witness, then, yeah, maybe I would.”

  “John, listen to me,” the older man said, leaning forward and trying to look like a real editor, like one of those giants at The Times. “You did a good story. Giant monster rats. We’ve already received a ton of mail on that one.”

  “Really? A ton?”

  “Maybe a bit of an exaggeration, but you get my point. This is something new. At least it doesn’t have anything to do with the Lycan Virus.”

  “Or does it?” John stage-whispered. He almost added a dramatic dum – dum – dummmm. Somehow, he contained himself.

  “You’re going to tell me these were – what? Were-rats?”

  “Exactly. I think the virus is jumping species.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Steve Debarr said, opening the top drawer to his massive desk and removing a bottle of Ibuprofen. He palmed four and swallowed them dry. “And we’ve come full circle.”

  “Hey, this is a big story. I mean, BIG!”

  “John, think about it. Wouldn’t you suspect the government or some scientist would have come forward to tell everyone that the virus is mutating? That it’s affecting other kinds of animals?”

  “Steve,” John said, the disdain practically dripping from his lips. “This is the World Weekly News. The government isn’t going to share anything with us. Neither is any self-respecting scientist. I am writing these important stories…”

  “…about giant were-rats.”

  “…and across the page is ‘Bigfoot Marries Pamela Anderson.’”

  “Hey, that guy had pictures. You didn’t have any pictures.”

  “I’ll get them,” John said, standing from the chair, his magnificent orange-brown skin flashing in the light from the window. “If I have to wait all day in the sewers.”

  “That’s sort of what I had planned for you,” Steve Debarr said, seizing the opportunity to get in a few words.

  “What are you telling me, Steve, buddy, old pal?”

  “I’m your editor, and I have a story for you.”

  “Uh oh,” Steve moaned, deflating back into the chair. “That means you’re assigning me to something serious.”

  “You want a real story?”

  “Giant rodents don’t count?”

  “Shitfire, no! And don’t even think of bringing up the werewolf thing…”

  “But it’s mutating. Listen to that word, Steve. Mutating. It’s a beautiful word. Sort of rolls off the tongue. Mutating.”

  “It’s boring copy.”

  “What if the Lycan Virus is mutating so that it’s a blood strain? What if it’s becoming like rabies. You bite someone, they turn. For all time. Screw the moon. Screw lunar cycles. It’s happening out there right now in some of those crazy chapels.”

  The editor rolled his eyes, knowing that he’d better switch topics before John refused to go out on any assignment that didn’t involve a furry monster.

  “I have an interview for you. And before you start, no, he is not a werewolf.”

  “Well, I already did one of those. Still, I’d like to get at one of the mutant creatures.”

  Debarr sighed. If Creed wasn’t such a good writ
er—okay, who was he kidding, such an exploitive writer that came so damned cheap—he’d toss him out of the office. But the guy knew how to spin a yarn, how to write copy that sounded if not entirely, then almost, true.

  “You’re interviewing a mole man.”

  John Creed stared at him, blinked a few times, and remained silent for a nearly miraculous thirty seconds. Debarr basked in the momentary tranquility.

  “What’s that?” John finally asked. “Some other sort of were-rodent?”

  “No, a real guy from underneath the subway system,” Debarr said, and he started to get excited about the story all over again. “The fellow came to me the other day, name of Michael Keene. Dirty guy, rail thin. He’s one of the homeless who live in the abandoned tunnels beneath the subway system. Apparently, there’s this whole microcosm of people living down there, almost like a little city in and of itself. A New York underneath New York.”

  “Can I use that?” John asked, pen and notepad already in hand.

  “Feel free. You’re to meet him near the McDonald’s in Times Square. Buy the poor guy a Happy Meal or something.”

  “You want human interest on this?”

  “Give me two thousand words, a big feature. I want to know how he lives, who lives with him, how they survive, what brought him to this lowly state.”

  “Yeah, okay, I think I have it. How will I know the dude?”

  “He’ll be the skinny, dirty guy by the McDonald’s in Times Square.”

  “Nice.”

  “You have an hour to get there, and I want this to be a serious article. No monsters. No werewolves. No giant alligators in the sewers…”

  “I swear, I didn’t make that up. I know someone who really saw them. Great big mothers, too.”

  “Uh, yeah. Listen, just give me two thousand words on what it’s like to fall from grace. Give me the human face on the tragedy.”

  “Your wish is my command, boss.” Creed stood again and headed for the door. “I’ll get you a damn good story. I’ll even go down into the freaking sewers with Mole Man.”