Page 2 of Tracking the Alpha
“These kinds of stunts are not amusing and have no place in a military operation,” Walt barked. “I want to know who was involved with bringing a filthy wild animal into a sterile environment. You do realize that, because of this ill-thought caper, everything in here will have to be either tossed or scrubbed clean?”
“I assure you, General, this is no joke. That really is Corporal Nakai,” Dr. Levy ventured from behind a soldier to exclaim. “As unbelievable as it sounds, I saw it happen.”
“Bullshit.” The expletive exploded from his lips. “People do not turn into wolves. I don’t care how many werewolf movies Hollywood puts out. It’s impossible. Now, you, and whoever else was involved, will present yourselves in the command tent at fifteen hundred hours for punishment detail.”
“Sir, it’s the truth,” Dr. Levy interjected.
“It’s a medical miracle that needs to be studied,” the major added.
“Stop with the lying. The prank failed.” Walt pulled his sidearm and took aim at the wolf, which stopped baring its teeth and, with a lowered head, stared at him steadily. Blame the major’s insistence for Walt imagining he saw intelligence in the gaze.
Bang.
The wild creature lifted its shaggy head fast enough the bullet missed the spot between the eyes where he’d been aiming and struck it in the chest. The wolf didn’t yelp or try to flee despite the fact blood poured from the hole in its hairy chest. It also never took its gaze from the general’s, even when its entire body began to shake and spasm in the throes of death.
Walt went to pivot and leave, but Dr. Levy, in a breach that would result in extra punishment, lurched in his direction and grabbed him by the arm. “Don’t turn away. Watch. I think it’s happening again.”
As Walt’s mouth opened to reprimand, the words remained unspoken for the wolf lay on the floor of the medical tent shivering so hard its limb straightened. Hair receded. Paws melted into hands and feet. A muzzle shrank inwards to become a mouth with a nose in the middle of a human face.
By the time the shivering ceased, the wolf was gone. In its place, a man. A naked man with jet-black hair and the same unwavering, intent stare.
“Holy fuck.” The only thing the general could say that fit the moment.
“I told you it was true,” the major crowed in relief.
Walt took a step forward. “State your name.”
The naked man rose to his feet—flesh unmarked by any wounds—and, in spite of the incongruity of the situation, saluted. “Corporal Nakai, sir.”
“I need you to explain what just happened, Corporal.”
The man’s face twisted. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
At the refusal, Walt’s brow lifted. “I gave you an order.
“I realize that, sir. However, I swore an oath I can’t break.”
“You know I can’t ignore what just happened here.”
Nakai’s lips pinched. “I wish you would, sir.”
Ignore what might be the single greatest discovery of his career? Like fuck.
The general pointed. “Major, take the corporal into custody.”
Nakai foolishly thought he could run. He snared a scalpel and dove for the side of the tent. The blade tore through the canvas, and Nakai slipped through the gap, but the major had planned well by placing soldiers just outside.
The corporal still tried to plow through them and failed. A captured Nakai found himself in restraints and placed under guard in the tent used as a jail for misbehaving soldiers. Usually, it held those who’d disgraced their uniform in some fashion like getting stupid drunk or harassing the locals. This time, it held a man who was also somehow a wolf.
A man who steadfastly refused to answer questions until the major applied the right kind of pressure. Unfortunately, Nakai didn’t survive the interrogation. However, his preserved body got shipped to a lab back in Canada, and by the time Walt returned, Nakai’s extended family—which consisted of an uncle and sister—had been taken into custody. To everyone’s surprise and delight, it turned out they, too, could shift shapes like the corporal, something the government took great interest in.
And thus was Project Therianthrope born.
Chapter One
Several years later…
The march from the barracks to headquarters didn’t take long, a good thing since it had begun to rain and Barrett really didn’t want to spend another hour spit-shining his boots when he could be having beers and winning money playing billiards.
