Breeds 2 (20 page)

“You’ve been in Halifax a while, huh?” she asked softly.

“Yeah.”

“Like it?”

“It’s okay.”

“We’ll see what we can do to keep the peace. Got a damn impressive crew here. Carma in particular is one serious bitch who gets things done.”

Kirk didn’t doubt that in the least.

“Don’t worry if she doesn’t like you. I don’t think she likes anyone.”

“She liked me, once.”

Kirk met Janice’s eyes in an instant of skin-shriveling horror, realizing what he’d said.

“You and her?” Janice smiled slyly, nodding with approval. “You get around, don’t you, Douglas?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Your face did.”

Kirk puckered up sourly as if he’d just tasted ass.

“So you guys had a thing?”

Jesus
. Kirk rubbed his forehead before eventually nodding.

“You and her? Wow. But it’s over?”

“Long over.”

“Is that why you’re moping around this place? And the reason this place smells like a mattress pulled out of a sewer?”

Despite trying not to, Kirk shifted and the sofa chair’s springs squealed softly.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” Janice soothed, her smile dispelling the steam from her remaining coffee. “I won’t say anything. Not like I’m best buddies with the woman. I’m not. Believe me. Alpha males, my ass. Try alpha
females
. I’ll deal with the menfolk any day of the week. Are you guys on good terms or…? Have you spoken to her since she got here?”

Kirk sighed. “No.”

“Uh-huh,” Janice said, unblinking. “And she’s not going to talk to you unless she really has to. Well, some things just became clearer.”

“Where you from, anyway?” Kirk asked.

“Whole bunch of places. Recently Grand Falls. Know it?”

“No.”

“Well, word of advice, if I were you looking to get her attention—”

“I’m not looking to get her attention.”

The right side of Janice’s cheek puffed out as her tongue prodded it. “If you were looking to get her attention, you should clean yourself up a bit. Shave the beard. Or at least trim it. You’re not entirely a meat bag. There’s potential there. Just put the time in, s’all I’m saying.”

“Thanks,” Kirk said and then glared. “But I’m not––”

“Yeah, yeah, but I’m saying if you
were
,” Janice stressed. “Christ. Try and help a guy out. Not that you need it. Well, much.”

“What do you mean?”

Janice didn’t answer right away, content to study him. “You don’t know anything about
weres
, do you?”

“Huh?”

“Or wolves in general?”

Kirk didn’t quite know how to respond to that. Snores ripped from the bedrooms, filling the gap in conversation.

“It’s gonna get bad, isn’t it?” Kirk asked, hoping this time the subject stayed changed.

“This hunt?”

“Yeah.”

Janice shrugged. “Strong possibility for it. Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe we won’t.”

“My luck we won’t.”

“You been in situations like this before?”

Memories of Newfoundland flashed in his mind. “Yeah. Once.”

“Where?”

“Newfoundland.”

“Didn’t hear about it. Not surprising, the way the network is. What happened?”

Kirk sighed. “A
were
went crazy. Killed some people and other
weres
. Morris and I were called in to put him down. More people got killed, but we got things done pretty quick. Just overnight, in fact.”

“That might happen here,” Janice said, and Kirk was thankful she didn’t press for details.

“It might. You ever do anything like this before?”

“No. Nothing like this. I’m a youngster compared to some of you. Only sixty-seven.”

She looked barely in her mid-twenties.

“I’ve had a few tussles with a couple of
weres
going a little crazy, but I straightened them out myself.”

“By yourself?”

Janice took offense. “What? I look too much like a girl to you?”

“No, not at all, you look more than capable enough.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kirk kept his mouth shut.

“Relax,” Janice smiled. “Giving you a hard time is all. Getting sleepy and I get cranky when that happens. I’ll probably drift off here in a few minutes anyway. Gonna be some long days this week. Maybe even next week, too, if we’re unlucky. Get some sleep if you can.”

She stretched out on the sofa.

Kirk thought she looked comfortable, so he leaned back in the sofa chair, took a deep breath, and rested his head.

The knock at the door opened his eyes. Janice was already sitting up and staring, the contrast of white socks and black jeans reminding Kirk of cookies for some reason. He stood to see who had come a’knocking. To his surprise, it was two men.

“Yeah?” Kirk asked as he opened the door.

“You Kirk?” one of the pair asked, a land pirate with a well-trimmed goatee and blue eyes. The other one looked like an evil twin. Both were dressed in white overalls with a crest of some sort upon their left chest pockets. A waist-high container that resembled a huge fish box was between the men.

“Yeah.”

“You got a package for us?”

A package
? Kirk looked from one to the other and bade them enter. They rolled the container inside and the warden closed the door. Janice had risen from the sofa, watching the interaction.

“He’s in there,” Kirk pointed, indicating the room containing the fallen Baxter Ryan.

The two men went inside without a word and studied the dead warden’s remains.

“You got his badge?” one asked before spotting the weapon on the nearby nightstand. “Ah, I see it.”

The second mover retrieved the weapon. He placed it in a thigh pocket while the first guy unfolded a great black plastic slip. The zipper shrieked as the mover yanked it open with two jerks. In a few seconds, he smoothed out the body bag beside the dead warden.

“We’ll take care of this,” the second mover said to Kirk and the assembled
weres
. “We’ll take the sheets as well.”

“You’re taking him out in that?” Cyler appeared in the doorway, gesturing at the box.

“Do it all the time.”

“Little obvious, isn’t it?”

“It’s a fish container,” the first mover said with a frown. “You want us to roll him up in a carpet or something?”

Cyler looked skeptical.

The movers got on either side of the body. They hefted the corpse off the bed and deposited him into the black sheath. Kirk watched as they zipped Baxter up and transplanted him into the fish container, all without comment.

“Jesus,” Janice said. “Nice to know how we’re going out when it’s time.”

“You expecting a hearse or something?” Mover Two asked.

“Expecting a little more respect.”

That drew both movers up and they stopped for an awkward moment, one actually pausing with the box lid in his hand. They returned to their work without comment and sealed the container with a few well-placed slaps and locks.

“Excuse us,” Mover One said as he rolled the container into the hallway. Mover Two pushed as well with a glazed expression, as if hugely bored. They caught a corner of the door on the way out, and that summoned glares from both men. Then they were outside.

Mover Two faced the four wardens. “Call us again if you need us.”

“Like fuck,” Bryce muttered, and Kirk, taking the cue, slammed the door behind the pair.

“Jesus,” a shocked Cyler said. “What a life.”

“Just don’t die, is all,” Bryce said and returned to the bedroom. Cyler followed him.

Kirk studied the bare bed. The two movers had taken all the sheets. He’d fetch fresh ones from the linen. “You can sleep in here if you want.”

“Think I will,” Janice said, and walked toward the curtains. “Come here.”

Kirk joined her at the window and they peeked down at the parking lot. Two minutes later, the movers rolled the fish box containing Baxter Ryan into view and toward what looked like a small, ordinary truck. They opened the rear and wheeled the container inside.

“Interesting,” Janice said.

“Why’s that?” Kirk asked, watching the pair jump out of the back and close the door.

“That truck,” Janice indicated with a nod. “See that unit just behind the driver’s cab?”

“Yeah. So?”

“It’s a refrigeration unit. That truck is a moving freezer.”

“Baxter was getting ripe.”

“Where do they take him anyway?”

“Good question,” Kirk said.

“That’s one for Carma,” Janice said, releasing the curtain.

“I’m going to sleep for a bit,” Janice sighed and moved past Kirk. “You got them sheets handy?”

“Here he is,” Haley announced, presenting a well-bundled individual to Heather Scheelock, Mario Howe, and the shelter’s coordinator, Andy Houston. Andy was closer to Haley’s age but with a lot more mileage. With his thinning hair and narrow glasses, the man resembled a frayed accountant more than a person who oversaw the running of one of Halifax’s larger shelters.

“Hello,” Heather beamed, extending her hand to the newest arrival––who didn’t take it.

“He’s not the quickest, is he?” Mario smirked.

“Smarten up, Mario,” Andy warned, mildly peeved with the breach of etiquette. “Who knows what this man has been through. But to be clear, we will need a name for him.”

“He never told me,” Haley said, remembering how she had to clean him up after he soiled himself. The big guy never so much as whimpered as she wiped him down, changed his shorts, and then dressed him a second time with a firm warning not to do his business in such a manner again. To her surprise, the guy actually wilted under her scolding, which made her feel bad.

“How long have you known him?” Andy asked.

“Only since last night. He helped me out,” Haley met Heather’s eyes for a brief second, “and then he was hit by a car and left in the street. The driver sped off. Classic hit-and-run.”

“Hm.” Andy adjusted his glasses as he inspected the taller man. “Well, it’s not uncommon for traumatized victims to experience memory loss. Suppressing or shutting the door, so to speak, on certain selective memories. And he could’ve landed on his head. Not too often we come across full-blown amnesia.”

“Could we call a doctor?” Heather suggested.

“Better to bring him on down to the hospital,” Andy remarked.

“I tried that,” Haley said. “The hospital didn’t appeal to him. He wouldn’t go near the place.”

“Well, he has to go.”

“I tried, Andy. He won’t. Refused to.”

“Interesting.” Andy studied the stranger again. “What’s the reason behind that, I wonder?”

“Don’t know. He saw the lights and wouldn’t go another step.”

Andy glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s almost five now. How about we have him stay with us overnight, and we’ll see what we can do in the morning, hm? Maybe his memory will come back during the night.”

“You’ll be fine with us,” Heather said to the quiet arrival, giving his arm a quick rub.

“In the meantime,” Andy declared, “we have to call him something. Names, people?”

“John,” Mario offered.

“John’s good to me,” Andy nodded and Mario wrote the name on his clipboard. “From here on in, you’re John. Doe, if anyone wants a last name. Stick with the tried and true. Heather? Mario? Show John to his cot for the night. And see to it he gets the basics. Suppertime is at five. You staying, Haley? It’s soup again but it’s good. The ladies really outdid themselves today.”

“I’ll stay,” Haley said. “At least until he’s settled away.”

“No worries there. You know how we operate.”

“You might want to watch him for accidents.”

“What’s that?” Andy asked, caught off guard. Heather and Mario appeared equally surprised.

“He had an accident earlier today. I had to clean him up before I brought him over. Only a number one, but a number two probably won’t be too far away.”

“Well, thank you for that, dear,” Andy said and looked to Mario. “A job for you and me.”

“Aw shit, Andy.”

“None of that. The man has to know how to use the facilities, so we’ll help him. Teach him if we have to. Until tomorrow when we can transfer him to a hospital.”

“It’s bad enough when the drunks barf all over the bathroom,” Mario grumbled. “Or just outright shit themselves.”

Andy reprimanded the man with an indignant look.

“
Defecate
,” Mario corrected himself. “Sorry, I meant
defecate
themselves. Sorry, sorry.”

“There you go,” Andy said. “Just think of this as a little preventative action. John isn’t the disagreeable sort, is he? Doesn’t smoke or drink? No harmful chemical habits we should be aware of?”

Haley realized that Andy had asked her. “No, not at all, as far as I know. And he did save me from a drunk. So his heart’s in the right place. At least I think so.”

“There you go,” Andy declared with a note of sanctity. “Helping our fellow brothers and sisters in their darkest hour is what we’re all about. Fear not, Haley, we’ll take good care of him. Sit with him at suppertime if you like.”

She brightened. That wasn’t a bad suggestion at all.

For his profanity slip, Mario was nominated to instruct John on the finer points of effectively voiding within a public washroom setting. During that time, Heather got on the phone and called Social Services, the Department of Health and Welfare, and the Reeve’s Institute for Mental Health. After a good twenty minutes, she hung up and reported to Haley and Andy that none of the three agencies could send someone over to assess the nature and extent of John’s mental state, that the task was upon them to escort the individual to the official premises.

None of which surprised Andy, or placed him in a good mood.

An hour later, just as supper was being served and the shelter’s regulars gathered in the hall partitioned off as a dining area, Mario guided a docile John to a table and sat him down across from Haley.

John appeared pleased to see her. Mario appeared disgusted beyond belief.

“Have some trouble, did you?” Haley asked.

“He’s learning,” Mario said. “He managed to use the toilet and wipe himself afterwards, but…”