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Sanctuary Secrets

Chapter Thirteen

© Cederwyn Whitefurr

29th August, 2024

All Rights Reserved.

As the last rays of daylight tinged the distant mountains in hues of salmon and gold, several members of the Therian Council gathered around a picnic table in a secluded park with Dr. Owen and Rachel taking the lead in this meeting.

“I wish Dr. Mercer was here," Jackson murmured, pacing restlessly. “His wisdom would be invaluable right now."

“I am with you, in spirit at least," came Dr. Mercer's voice from the speaker of Dr. Owen's cell phone that was placed in the centre of the table. “I've mobilised as many of your – sorry – our kind as I can spare. Those who are too old or infirm or with child, have been secured in the main hall of the sanctuary. They're being watched over and will be as safe as anyone until this is over – one way or another.

Dr. Owen stood beside Rachel, who placed a comforting hand on Jackson's shoulder, offering silent support for the distressed younger Therian.

“We need to move quickly," Dr. Mercer continued, his voice low and urgent. “You've confirmed our worst fears – a rogue is on the loose and with it – brought those people closer than they've been in... well, you don't need me to remind any of you. My guess is it's fled the township. As a newly turned Therian, it'll be still struggling to comprehend and - “

Rachel cleared her throat. “Dr. Mercer? Forgive me, but I know our kind, better than you. If it's truly gone rogue, the humans spirit completely consumed by the dark Therian – then it won't, like you, need time for adjustment and such. It'll be fully cognisant and aware. If anything, it's more dangerous now, than what you may realise."

Dr. Owen glanced at Rachel, then at Jackson, whose pale face betrayed the truth of Rachel's words. They gathered closer around the phone, each filled with doubts and fears about what they were about to undertake.

“Nightfall is imminent, maybe twenty-five minutes, half an hour at best. From what Dr. Owen has said, there are already plenty of heavily armed people already wandering the woodlands. You need to watch each other's backs – that's imperative. Please, be safe, and there is four of you, so I suggest you split into teams of two. Penny has been sent to your location with as much of our weaponry as we can spare." Dr. Mercer sighed. “Good luck, may you find and eliminate the threat – and return safely. I need not remind you do not shift. People are on edge and -" Dr. Mercer's words were cut off, as a rifle shot split the early night air with its deafening rapport.

Jackson nearly panicked, even Rachel and Dr. Owen visibly flinched at the loud shot, and it was several heartbeats before they managed to calm themselves.

“We're alright," Rachel's quavering voice spoke up, for Dr. Mercer's benefit. “I suspect no kangaroo will be living within miles of this place – come tomorrow night..."

“You're probably right - “ Dr. Mercer's drawn out sigh come from the speaker. “Please, take care, and be careful..."

Dr. Owen shuddered, then hit END CALL on his phone, slipping it back into his pocket.

“Whose going with whom?" Jackson asked, still very twitchy and hyper-alert.

“Rachel?" Dr. Owen pondered. “I don't have anywhere near your skill, so can you accompany me? Jackson – I think it best if you and Penny returned to the sanctuary, I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you – or to Penny. Rachel and I will hunt down the rogue, you got your newborn to think about, so..."

Jackson was visibly torn between his family back at the sanctuary and what he felt was his duty, to help them...

Rachel smiled softly, then gently took both Jackson's hands in hers, before she lightly kissed him on the forehead.

“It'll be alright, now, go, go back to the sanctuary and be with your mate and child."

Jackson hesitated before he shuddered and dropped his head, bowing to Rachel's more dominant nature. As he turned about, like a wrath, Penny slipped from the shadows – her presence and small stature only adding to the already tightly wound group members.

“Penny, please stop doing that - “ Dr. Owen exhaled in surprise. “Right, you and Jackson are to go immediately back to the sanctuary, Rachel and I will go find the rogue -"

Penny frowned, then nodded and led them back to the vehicle, where Rachel and Dr. Owen retrieved some vests, weapons and assorted other equipment – donning drizabone coats over themselves to ward off the evening chill and conceal their weapons.

“Please, for the love of whatever divine power you believe in, be cautious. We do not need one of us getting arrested – or worse. If you've not heard from either of us by morning, the rendezvous point is the old farmstead, two kilometres from town on old Oakhurst Road. Now, Penny and Jackson? Straight back to the sanctuary – I mean that..."

Penny glanced at Jackson, who trembled and opened the car door, slipping into the passenger side, whilst Penny took the driver's side. As they drove away, Rachel sighed quietly and shook her head.

“He's so tightly wound - “

Dr. Owen nodded. “He's young, has a family and a mate who cherishes and loves him. He's definitely not an alpha male, is he?"

Rachel tried to repress her laughter, the corner of her lips quirking, before she shook her head again and put aside frivolity and mirth, concentrating on the task before them.

*

Six members of the Hunters moved stealthily through the night, their long coats of camouflage patterns seemingly making them dissapear into the woodlands. Beneath the coats they wore their lightweight composite armour, infused with silver. Machine pistols – easily concealed yet with terrifying firepower hung in concealed holsters, extra magazines around their waists, and silver blades in scabbards at their right hips.

“We're hunting a Therian, make no mistakes. That beast slaughtered multiple staff members and at least one innocent patient at the hospital. It is not Romeo Kilo, I repeat, it is not Romeo Kilo. Positive identification is impossible, but the police radios report it as a Golf Kilo. Whether it is a buck or a doe, makes no difference. If you see one – you know what to do, take zero chances."

They listened attentively, checking and rechecking their equipment, then each others, their expressions hard and unyielding.

“Our target will not wish to be taken alive, it's loose, we assume, somewhere in the woods surrounding this godless town. Our mission – is to take it alive, if possible. We lost our primary strike team at the former sanctuary. We will not lose another. Keep your communications open and stay in regular contact. Police report that an unknown number of civilians have taken up arms and are likewise hunting. Our target is priority Alpha, civilian lives are considered expendable."

*

As twilight dissolved into night, the town seemed to hold its breath, the tension in the air thick as a storm on the verge of breaking. Sirens wailed, their shrill cries echoing off the buildings, whilst the flashing lights of emergency vehicles prowled the streets, trying to restore a semblance of normality and order. What had once been a peaceful hamlet had lost its innocence, its serenity shattered by the violence at the hospital – and now – the loud reports of gunfire in fields and forests surrounding the town.

*

Dr. Owen and Rachel moved with purpose, their steps sure as they headed towards the outskirts. Each shadow made the hairs on Rachel's neck stand on end, every distant gunshot making her twitch instinctively. She longed to shift into her Therian form, to let her heightened senses take over, but she knew she had to remain human. She felt exposed, vulnerable, her senses dulled in this form.

“Can you sense anything?" Dr. Owen whispered, his voice cutting through her thoughts.

“It doesn't work like that," Rachel snapped, then immediately softened, her shoulders sagging. “I'm sorry. It's just... I feel so helpless. So... limited."

Dr. Owen frowned, his eyes searching hers. “You must have some idea. We need to find it before it finds us... or before those who..."

He trailed off, as if speaking the words would give them power. Rachel was grateful for his restraint, though the fear within her coiled tighter, squeezing her heart.

“I have my instincts, my suspicions," Rachel whispered back, leaning closer. “But that's all they are – suspicions. Without my true form, I'm as blind as you are out here. I won't give up, our friends, family and loved ones are depending on us. We will find it. I believe that I just need a moment to attune myself."

Dr. Owen nodded, fascinated and fearful in equal measure. He still knew so little about the delicate balance between the Therian's more animal-like nature, and their more human side.

Was the dark Therian hunting them as they, in turn, hunted it?

Were the Hunters closing in on them?

Dr. Owen's mind reeled with possibilities he could barely comprehend.

All he could do was place his faith in Rachel, as she did with him.

*

The old man's home stood isolated on the edge of town, its weathered exterior barely illuminated by the weak glow of a single porch light. Inside, the living room was warm and cosy, dimly lit by the embers of the fireplace.

In his faded slippers and threadbare robe, the old man had drifted off to sleep in his favourite recliner, one arm draped over the side and the television still on, even though the man himself snored blissfully, unaware of the circumstances of what had transpired in town.

A loud crash shattered the restfulness of his sleep, jolting him awake. His heart raced as he struggled to his feet, the fog of sleep clinging to his mind as he reached for his cane and rose on quivering legs. Looking around, he turned off the television and paused – his eyesight blurred and hearing no longer as sharp as it once was – he tried to distinguish between dream and reality.

As he approached the rear door that lead out on to a weather beaten patio, his eyes narrowed as he thought he saw movement out in the backyard. With a quavering sigh, he shuffled his way towards the door – then froze as something landed with a thump, then materialised from out of the darkness into a form of something out of the darkest of nightmares...

It crawled up onto the patio, its form materialising into the appearance of a kangaroo... yet one that looked like it'd been through a slaughterhouse.

Staring, dumbfounded, the old man blinked and shook his head, then raised his cane and rapped at the plate glass door.

“Off with you skip, I don't have anything for you and your kind - “ Come the raspy voice from the man.

Far from scared, the kangaroo crawled closer, then it rose up and placed its bloodied paws on the plate glass window as it rose to its full height. Its body was streaked with blood and gore. The fur was matted and filthy, its eyes gleaming with malevolence and hunger. Its powerful paws splayed out on the glass, leaving smeared streaks of crimson as it leaned closer, peering inside with a gaze that radiated pure malice.

The old man's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of the unholy nightmare before him.

Its presence was overwhelming, a palpable force of pure darkness that seemed to suck the very warmth from the room. Its claws slowly contracted, screeching on the glass and smearing blood over it.

Panic surged through the old man and he stumbled backwards, knocking over a nearby lamp. The sound of the lamp exploding on the floor only heightened his fear, yet he did not dare take his eyes off the creature.

Beyond the pane of glass, the dark Therian's gaze remained fixed, unblinking, its eyes locked onto the old man with an intensity and focus that was unnatural and inhuman.

In a sudden moment, the dark Therian pulled back, its stance shifting as it seemed to access the situation, its breath fogging the glass.

In fear, the man slumped to the floor, then crabbed backwards, his back striking the coffee table as he did something he'd not done since he was a babe in arms...

His bladder let go...

Awkwardly, the dark Therian pawed at the handle of the door, until it managed to grip it and began to slide the door open – slowly and deliberately, its lips curling backwards in an unmistakable cruel and malevolent smile. It was almost as if it knew exactly what it was doing, eliciting as much fear and terror as possible, whilst drawing it out for its own sadistic pleasure.

His fingers closed around the cellular phone and with shaking fingers, he began to fumble with it, trying desperately to call emergency services...

As if knowing what he was trying to do, the dark Therian slammed open the glass door crawled inside, its gaze seemingly growing in intensity. Bloody paw prints were left on the floor as it transitioned from outside to inside, then it seemed to take a moment – just staring at the human who cowered before it.

As the old man whimpered and raised the phone, the ringing number loud, he wondered what would happen first...

As the dark Therian's muzzle curled back in feral rage and in one powerful leap, it slammed its full weight down on the human. It's powerful hind legs straddling its victims hips, the sharp claws of the forelimbs tearing through the fabric of the gown as it sought purchase on its victims shoulders.

“No... no... no..." The old man's quavering voice gasped out, his heart beginning to flutter into an irregular beat. “You're not real... you're not real, you're..."

“Oh," Came the voice, dark, twisted and barely human, from the mouth of the dark Therian as it leaned down and drew its long tongue up the cheek of its victim. “I'm quite real..."

As the old man's trembling fingers finally managed to press the call button, the phone rang once, twice, before the calm, professional voice of the emergency operator cut through the terror.

“What is your emergency?"

As the old man tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat, choked by the primal, soul crushing fear coursing through his veins. His eyes were wide with terror as the dark Therian's grip tightened, its rancid breath washing over his face and its shadow seeming to blot out all hope.

The operator's voice come from the speaker on the phone again. “Hello? Can you hear me? What is your emergency?"

Before the old man could croak out an answer, the dark Therian struck. With a savage, almost fluid motion, it slammed its powerful jaws down onto his throat, cutting off any chance of a scream. The wet, choking gurgle that escaped his lips was drowned out by the sickening crunch of cartilage and the tearing of flesh.

The operator head a sudden burst of noise – a guttural, strangled sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Sir? Sir, are you there? What's happening?" she called out, her voice rising in urgency as the only sound was the grotesque sounds of the attack.

Sounds of struggling and other worse, sickening sounds and a final desperate gasp echoed through the call, painting a terrifying picture in her mind.

“Sir, please respond! Can you hear me?" The operator's voice wavered as the background noise grew fainter, the old man's last moments ending in sickening sounds of crunching and... was that sucking?

In the silence that followed, the operator strained to hear anything, her hear pounding in her chest. Then, she head it – the faint, almost imperceptible sound of something – predatory and savage, ravaging what she could only assume was the caller.

“Sir, are you still there?" she asked one last time, her voice barely a whisper. But the line had gone eerily silent, followed by a low, animalistic chuckle – before the signal from the cell phone went dead.

As she sat at her desk, white and trembling, the operator felt her manager place a hand on her shoulder, having been summoned – yet both feeling powerless and helpless.

To Be Continued...