Pack Animals (22 page)

Read Pack Animals Online

Authors: Peter Anghelides

Tags: #Fiction - Science Fiction, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #General, #Science Fiction, #Science Fiction - General, #Fiction, #Suspense, #Sagas, #Human-alien encounters - Wales - Cardiff, #Mystery fiction, #Cardiff (Wales), #Intelligence officers - Wales - Cardiff, #Radio and television novels

‘Just send Achenbrite up here, Ianto.’

The remaining gorilla bellowed from its position atop the display unit. It swung its hairy, drooling face around, and its scrunched expression suggested that it couldn’t work out where its monstrous mate had gone.

‘I used to love a bit of a shop, me,’ sighed Gwen as she took aim. Her bullet struck the monster right between the eyes. It fell backwards off the display and clattered down into a display of coffee makers and kettles.

Owen hurried over to where it had fallen. A small crowd of frightened people edged nearer to it. The gorilla heaved one last great gust of rank air, and its final breath sprayed the crowd with snot from its huge nostrils. The crowd cowered. A handful stared at their mobile phones as though they could will them into action, but the handsets had died as abruptly as the creature. Owen could hear the three-note apology from the nearest ones, and the calm Achenbrite statement.

‘What’s going on?’ demanded the lad in the bomber jacket. Owen held up his gun as a fresh warning, and the bloke looked shocked again. Except this time, it was at something behind Owen.

He whirled to face a new threat. A spindly creature with a tiny central body and etiolated limbs staggered across the furniture department. It trailed its dangling hands almost lazily over a nearby sofa bed. The cover split open and spewed stuffing and springs, as if it had been eviscerated. The creature flicked its head from side to side quizzically, reached out one long arm, and plucked at a ceiling-mounted CCTV camera.

‘Shit!’ spat Owen. ‘Ianto, you have to kill the CCTV!’

He loosed off a couple of shots. The creature picked up a two-seater sofa and flipped it across the room. It could have been made of feathers for all the effort it seemed to require. But it felt heavy enough when it glanced off Owen and knocked the gun from his hand. Gwen took a harder blow, and fell beneath the sofa.

The creature stalked closer. A sales assistant got in the way, so it picked him up and flexed its fingers. The man’s body was severed, and the two halves of his corpse were discarded like litter. Blood sprayed over the nearby furnishings.

The creature moved towards Owen. He scrabbled backwards, desperate to get away from the knife-edged talons.

It brought its insectoid head closer to him, so close that he could see his face reflected in its compound eyes. Was it looking at him? Scenting him? About to devour him?

He didn’t have time to speculate any more, because the head split open in an explosion of dark liquid.

When Owen opened his eyes, Jack Harkness was grinning down at him. One hand held his .38 Webley revolver, which was still smoking. The other was held out to help Owen get to his feet.

‘I can’t believe all of this, Jack.’ The stranger beside Jack sported a tweed jacket and a Welsh accent.

‘Who’s your mate?’ Owen asked Jack.

Jack clapped the stranger on the shoulder. ‘David Brigstocke, from BBC Radio Wales. Gimme a hand, David, I think one of my officers is trapped over here. She looks good in leather, but not when it’s on a sofa.’

Owen assisted them in freeing Gwen from beneath the tumbled heap of furniture. ‘He’s your journalist?’

‘He wanted to do a “day in the life” piece, I said he could tag along.’ Jack was staring at the ceiling-mounted cameras. ‘Why are these cameras still operational?’

Ianto’s voice said in their ears: ‘I’m having a bit of trouble isolating the feeds.’

‘Take out the power to the whole place!’ shouted Jack.

The journalist, Brigstocke, looked alarmed. ‘Shouldn’t we evacuate the store first?’

‘We?’ smiled Jack. He indicated the shrinking crowds around them. ‘Besides, I think they’ve got the message. OK, David. Until the power goes out, let’s make sure they’re keeping clear of this area. Go and hit the reverses on the up escalators. Then call all the lifts to this floor and jam their doors open. Prevents anyone getting trapped inside them.’

Owen saw that Brigstocke was hesitating by the torn remains of the store clerk.

‘Hey!’ Jack snapped at Brigstocke. ‘You wanted to be a part of this… Go!’

The toy department was deserted now. Most of the shoppers had been parents, accompanying their bright-eyed children to plan Christmas. Thinking about birthday presents. The occasional weekend dad making up for his workday absence with the bribe of a gift. Mothers and fathers whose parental instinct was to protect their children first of all.

So when a whirlwind of savage animals had sprung from the MonstaQuest display, it had rapidly become obvious that this wasn’t a store event. That much was clear from the genuine terror in the staff, who had abandoned their desks and tills and fled the scene screaming like everyone else. Two huge gorillas had lumbered off, dragging their feet and knuckles, whooping and chattering at the new sights. A whirlwind group of huge, savage insects hovered and chittered in the deserted toy department, plucking at the soft toys as though considering how edible they were.

Parents, children, staff had fled. Now there was only one mother left. And it was her instinct to stay with her child.

Jennifer Portland faced Gareth at the heart of the storm, trying to ignore the wafts from the dreadful creatures that fluttered over her head, the slashing sounds of their razor-sharp mandibles.

‘What have you done, Gareth?’ She pleaded with him to look at her, to acknowledge her. But he simply stared out with a cold and dispassionate look at the devastation he had wrought.

As her son had grown up, Jennifer had been able to tell when Gareth was distressed. Even when he wouldn’t tell her, she could recognise the set of his mouth, or the particular way he slouched when he tried to explain something, or the sparkle of unshed tears in his frustrated eyes. Now as she looked at him, she didn’t recognise anything at all. It was like the shell of her beloved son. All that was of him had been emptied out and replaced with something else.

‘What have you done?’ she asked again. That was when all the store lights went out.

The noise from the monstrous insects all around them dipped momentarily, before resuming with a new, angry intensity.

There was still a sharp source of light across the sales floor. It spilled out from within the MonstaQuest display behind Gareth, throwing his outline into sharp silhouette. He was staring at the Visualiser device. He turned it to the light so he could read the display, but what Jennifer could read was the fury in her son’s face.

‘Not enough people!’ snarled Gareth. ‘Insufficient power!’

‘Gareth, come back to me!’ pleaded Jennifer. She shuffled closer. Desperate to hold him. To forgive him.

‘There is no Gareth,’ said the thing that had been her son. Its black eyes bored into her. ‘And besides, you were already dead to him.’

Gareth strode past his mother, shrugging off her attempt to grab him, to hug him. She turned to follow him as he left. But the insect creatures had gathered in front of her. Gareth was already out of the room when the insects fell upon Jennifer.

Gwen intercepted Ianto and the Portland brothers as they struggled up the final set of fire stairs. The Achenbrite pair were laden with capture equipment, and unable to use the escalators because Brigstocke had reversed the direction so that they only travelled down and out of the store.

The store’s back-up generator had kicked in, offering low-level emergency lighting. When they reached the toy department, they found that Jack and Owen had already picked their way across the debris. David Brigstocke hovered behind them nervously.

There was no sign of Gareth Portland. A fading glow around the MonstaQuest stand illuminated a group of four huge insect creatures that huddled over something.

With a thrill of horror, Gwen recognised that the something was Jennifer Portland.

Matt Portland had noticed this too. He let out a howl of anguish and rage, and started to charge at the creatures. Between them, Owen and Gwen managed to hold him back.

‘I’m sorry,’ Gwen told him. ‘So sorry, but it’s too late for her. You have to help your brother set up the capture equipment.’

The insects were losing interest in Jennifer’s body, but the noise from these newcomers had attracted their attention. One of them opened its wings and flitted up to the ceiling. The other three twisted to look at their new prey, and their mandibles champed in anticipation.

‘Stand back!’ shouted Chris. He and his brother had angled the capture equipment at the larger group of insects, and the devices hummed into life. A static crackle filled the air, and the bulbous ends of the Achenbrite rifles spat out a cloudy spray that enveloped their targets. The three insects twisted, shrieked, and dwindled in size.

‘Get them in the box!’ Chris called out to his brother.

But Matt threw the capture box aside, and ran over to the three shrunken insect creatures. His face was contorted with utter fury and he slammed down the end of his rifle against them. The insects splattered under the assault, a yellow-green stain smeared on the carpet tiles. Matt continued to pound at the gooey remains until he slumped down exhausted, his rifle a useless, mangled mess beside him.

The remaining insect shrieked its anger, and swooped down at Chris Portland. The Achenbrite man stumbled back, tumbling over a display case of Disney characters. The monstrous insect snatched at the plush characters, slicing them with the ends of its sharp legs. Shreds of material and stuffing scattered over the floor. Chris stumbled free, and brought up his rifle to fire.

The end of it was crushed and bent out of shape. He fired anyway, but the rifle smoked and sparked in his hands, and he had to throw it aside.

A fusillade of shots rang out. The Torchwood team had all taken aim at the insect. Their bullets pinged off its carapace, barely scratching the creature but ricocheting in all directions.

The creature rose into the air and menaced them from above.

Jack was already activating his earcomm. ‘Tosh? Plan B. Did Ianto patch things through to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK, bring the cellular network back online.’ Jack waggled his hand urgently at David Brigstocke. ‘Gimme your camera phone.’

Brigstocke fumbled in his tweed jacket and finally produced the item.

Jack’s fingers fiddled with the phone interface. He angled its camera lens up at the looming insect. ‘Get back, all of you.’

When they all moved, the insect motioned to follow them.

‘No you don’t!’ snapped Jack, and began to hurl Disney characters at the creature. It swooped down at him, slashing at his arm with a razor-edged leg.

‘That’s more like it!’ he grinned, nursing the wound with one hand while keeping the camera aimed at the insect. ‘C’mon, c’mon! You’ve got nowhere to escape to.’

The creature reared back, ready to strike. Before vanishing in a swirling cloud of brilliant illumination.

Gwen stepped forward hesitantly. ‘Where did it go, Jack?’

Jack snapped the phone shut, and tossed it back to Brigstocke. ‘Before we left, Tosh set up a video phone in the Hub dungeon. That insect will materialise in secure storage down there, and we can deal with it later.’ His smile faded. ‘Assuming I dialled it right.’ He rapidly muttered a mobile phone number as though checking his memory.

Gwen blanched. ‘That’s Rhys’s number!’

Jack was grinning again. ‘Just kidding.’

She slapped his arm. ‘I hope he’s safely on his way to the international, by now.’

No such joy for the Portlands, she reflected. Just across from her, Matt was weeping over his mother’s remains. Chris stoically tried to ignore this, as though that would deny the truth of it. He carefully sprayed the area around the MonstaQuest stand with weed killer. Gwen went to him and saw the shrivelled stalks of the same alien plants that they’d seen in the shopping mall. The bizarre foliage surrounded a huge gash in the surface, so wide and deep that she could see right through to the third floor below.

‘Gareth was using the Visualiser to recreate an alien world for those creatures,’ said Jack from beside her.

‘Why did he stop?’

‘Not enough power.’

Gwen studied Jack’s face in the flicker of the store’s emergency lighting. ‘Because we cut the electricity?’

‘No. Because the store evacuated,’ said Jack. ‘Not enough terrified witnesses to give it the emotional oomph it needs.’

‘Better track him down, then. He’s still got that Visualiser thing. And he can find more people just by leaving the store.’

‘Couple of other things too,’ said Jack. ‘Tosh, how many of the creatures got away through mobile phone calls?’

‘There were seventy-nine calls from those coordinates,’ Toshiko’s voice replied. ‘Only… let’s see… one of them was synchronised with a spike in Rift energy, and I got GPS coordinates for the destination phone.’

Gwen nodded. ‘The gorilla thing we saw.’

‘OK, Tosh,’ said Jack briskly. ‘Send the coordinates through to Owen. Gwen, you guys know what you’re looking for. Capture or kill. You can phone it through to the Hub, if you need to.’ He turned to the others. ‘Ianto, you and the Portlands need to do some clean-up here.’

‘Clean-up?’ snapped Brigstocke. His composure seemed to be returning. ‘So this is how it works, is it Jack?’

Jack ignored him, and spoke instead to Ianto. ‘Make sure the Portlands are OK,’ he murmured.

Gwen saw that Jack passed a blister pack of Retcon pills to Ianto before he left the toy department.

Toshiko was ready and waiting for Jack in the SUV. The window wound down, and she leaned out to talk to him as he approached.

‘Any easy way of tracking Gareth through town?’ Jack asked.

She looked apologetic. ‘We took out the power for the whole block. CCTV is completely down.’

‘Rift traces?’

She shook her head. ‘Place is awash with what you were dealing with on the fourth floor.’ She held up a metallic square. ‘Could try this?’

Jack wasn’t sure he liked the idea of Toshiko using the other Vandrogonite Visualiser. ‘How difficult can it be to find a guy wandering round Cardiff in an orange T-shirt?’ He clicked his tongue as he became aware that Brigstocke had caught up with him.

‘You’re really not much of a football fan, are you?’ said the journalist. He beckoned for Jack to walk a short distance down the access road to the main shopping street.

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