33: So Much Dead Meat

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Laura rode back alone. I had decided to go in the ambulance with the medics and Thurber, as did Wethermore. I needed to think.

Wethermore was sitting in the front passenger seat. I was sitting with my back to him in the rear compartment, with a perfect front-row seat to the rapidly unfolding argument between Gerta and Sabine, a pack medic from the Ebony Oak pack, over which type of ointment was the most effective for silver burns.

"I refuse to be associated with any of that artificial stuff. No patient under my care is getting any of that nasty stuff! Only natural remedies. Only the best."

"What about this?" Sabine pulled out another ointment from the first aid pack.

"Clomidal? Have you seen what happens when they test that on animals? I've seen the results. Horrifying. Never. Never under my watch." She wrested the tube away.

"Arsenic isn't artificial, either, you know." Sabine wasn't even bothering to hide the sarcasm anymore. Gerta chose to ignore her.

Beneath their hands, the patient lay on his belly, his back red with lacerations. He'd stayed silent for the trip so far, apart from pained moaning now and then, mainly because he was teetering on the edge of consciousness.

Wethermore turned around, breaking his silence. "Cut the bickering, will you? He needs your help urgently."

Poor old Thurber chose that moment to speak up. "I... don't care if it's artificial or not. Just stop the pain..." he drifted off into incoherence.

I breathed in and forced myself to ignore the drama playing out next to me. My mind was racing. I had to get to Brian. What the hell were Thunder Falls up to?

A good third of the packs were here. The other packs would be on tenterhooks after news of the rogue attack; everything in the Industrial Zone would be suspended. It was the perfect time for them to make their move.

I dialled the number for the hotel. The receptionist put me to the right suite.

"Jim. It's seven in the morning." Catriona sounded like she'd just woken up.

"Did you hear the news?"

"What news?"

"There's been another rogue attack. I was there when it happened. That's where I am right now."

"That's - please tell me you're okay, Jim."

"I'm fine. Cuts and bruises, but nothing major. We managed to head it off. Few casualties, though. How's the photographer thing going?"

"Nothing. No leads. It's like he vanished into thin air."

"What do you see outside?"

I heard the sound of a curtain being opened. "What do you mean? It's just a normal day. Lots of rogue beggars outside, because they know we we're in the hotel, and we give generously-" she stopped dead in the middle of her sentence.

"What is it?"

"There's a line of APVs going past. Armoured Personnel Carriers. Unmarked, black. That's not a good sign anywhere."

"Stay in your hotel room," I replied. "If someone knocks, don't come out. Don't even answer the door."

"Jim, do you think I've never been in a warzone before? This is nothing. You know, in the grand scheme of things, you alphas are a bunch of pussycats. They're just going right past us. Oh wait. They're stopping at the building down the street."

"Which building?"

"Your typical office block. Plate glass. Fancy courtyard, got the name written in a big fuck-off slab of marble at the front. The"- I could almost hear her squinting- "Organisation of...

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