Hayden knocked, and waited till the old man poked his head out like a hermit crab ready to defend its shell against all-comers. Before the door was slammed in his face, Hayden put his weight to it, forcing it open and sending the old man staggering back into the room. Following him inside, Hayden closed the door behind them and pulled out the package from his jacket. “More,” he said, holding it up so the old man could see. “I need more.”
The old man’s response—a near-breathless tirade of what sounded to Hayden like every curse and swear word in the Chinese language—was pretty clearly in the negative. When Hayden asked him again, politely still, it was like standing in the way of a hosepipe of abuse. He tried cajoling him; he tried flashing his wallet, he made increasingly heated demands, but all to no avail. In the end, not knowing what else to do, Hayden ripped off his face mask. “Look!” he said, thickly, as if through a mouthful of something hard and uncomfortable. Immediately, the old man shut up.
Towards dusk he’d started to feel it, deep in the roots of his teeth. At first it had been bearable, actually not at all unpleasant: that rigid crackling sensation like popping your knuckles, only this was taking place inside his mouth, inside his jaw. Then the pressure, the constant pushing upwards, flesh and bone stretching, resettling. Probably nothing could stop it, that was the feeling he had. That was okay, though; that was fine, so long as he had some more of that blue stuff. More gel, now. Surely the old man must understand?
“You did this,” said Hayden, stretching his lips wide open and showing the old man what lay concealed behind the second mask, the mask of his own skin. “You did this,” advancing on him now, and the old man retreating, retreating, till he was backed up against the fish tank, yammering frantically; and then the tank tipped over and everything went flying, and the underground chamber was plunged into dark . . .
“So, anyway, I took all of the stuff he had left,” explained Hayden. “That’s lasted me until now, but . . . ” He spread his hands and looked at Dr. Pang.
The dentist frowned. “Mr. Hayden. I have to tell you, this account of yours raises the gravest questions. The science of transgenic pharmaceuticals is still very much in its infancy; goodness knows what unauthorised, possibly toxic substances you may have received from this, this street vendor. I must urge you to stop self-medicating forthwith, and I shall now examine you to assess the extent of the problem. Please remove your mask.”
Above the antiseptic face-mask, Hayden’s eyes creased in disappointment. “Doctor,” he said wheedlingly, “isn’t there some way we can, you know, come to an agreement on this? You know the right people, I’m sure. Can’t you get hold of some of this?” He waved his scrap of paper from the Scientific American. “I need it. I’d be prepared to pay.”
“It would be more than my licence is worth,” Dr. Pang assured him frowningly. “Now it would be best for me to examine you, to see the extent of the problem.”
“It’s almost full moon,” said Hayden, shifting slightly upright on the chair. “It’ll get worse before it gets better.”
Dr. Pang stared at him. “What did you call that . . . that thing the hotel porter said to you? You repeated it to the street vendor. What was it again?”
“Wanchang dhole,” said Hayden, with none of his former awkwardness. The foreign words seemed to slip more easily between his swollen lips than his birth-language. “I looked it up on the internet, afterwards.”
“Then . . . you know what that means?” Dr. Pang had pushed his chair slightly back from the side of the recliner. The castors rolled silently across the gleaming tiles, till he came to a halt against the wall. No sound in all that antiseptic space except the hum of the air conditioning, a white clock ticking towards one AM, and the fast, slightly ragged breathing of the dentist.
Hayden swung his legs over the side of the chair and sat up, directly facing Dr. Pang. “Yes,” he said, with difficulty. “Yes, I know what it means. But do you?” Lips parted in what might have passed for a grin, he stripped off his mask.
Dr. Pang gave an involuntary cry, and tried to get to his feet. The chair skidded sideways on its castors, and he lost his balance for a crucial second; then Hayden was upon him.
COMPARISON OF EFFICACY RATES FOR SEVEN ANTIPATHETICS AS EMPLOYED AGAINST LYCANTHROPES
MARIE BRENNAN
Abstract
This study seeks to establish a hierarchy of efficacy for various antipathetic materials and delivery mechanisms thereof as used in the extermination of lycanthropes. Pre-existing data on this issue consists solely of folkloric narratives and unsubstantiated anecdotes on Internet communities, neither of which are based upon suitable experimental trials. It is hoped that this study will be only the beginning of a proper body of scientific literature, which might be expanded to include hyena men, were-jaguars, and other therianthropes.
Definition
For the purpose of this study, a lycanthrope is a human being who physically transforms into a lupine or hybrid lupine-hominid shape, acquiring greater strength, speed, and reduced vulnerability to ordinary weapons. Available evidence indicates that this alteration is linked to the lunar cycle, though a full explication of the mechanism of transformation and its contagious nature awaits further study.
Violent aggression is not a necessary part of the definition, but seems to be either an ancillary effect of lycanthropy, or a co-morbid condition with it. Anecdotal reports of friendly lycanthropes are at present unsubstantiated.
Methodology
Numerous difficulties present themselves in any attempt to scientifically test the folklore regarding materials antipathetic to lycanthropes. Foremost among these is the lack of acceptance within the scientific community as to the existence of lycanthropy, beyond the psychiatric condition; this severely limits funding, peer review, and institutional support.
Because of this lack, it proved impossible to test antipathetics under laboratory conditions. The capture and maintenance of one caged specimen, much less several, was judged to be both dangerous and prohibitively expensive. The study therefore proceeded instead via field trials. Through the online community,[1] the investigator contacted individuals who had expressed the intention of hunting lycanthropes in the immediate future. These subjects were each provided with a different antipathetic or delivery mechanism thereof, and each expressed his or her willingness to allow the investigator to document the hunt.
In most cases, the field trials were recorded by means of head-mounted night-vision cameras, worn by the experimental subject, which streamed video wirelessly to the investigator’s computer. On occasion it proved feasible to set up a stationary camera. These recordings were supplemented by the investigator’s own notes, and (where possible) exit interviews with the hunters.
This research was not authorized by a Human Subjects Committee or other ethics review board.
Trial 1: argent projectile (modern)
The metallurgy of silver makes it difficult to manufacture silver bullets suitable for use in a modern firearm.[2] The investigator secured the use of a university metallurgy lab and the assistance of a professional firearms manufacturer to produce eighteen .357 caliber rounds,[3] or two clips for a Desert Eagle pistol.
The first subject, Hunter A, was a thirty-six-year-old male with a career in law enforcement, whose wife had recently been disemboweled by a lycanthrope. After demonstrating his firearms accuracy so as to establish a baseline for comparison, he commenced the search for his target.[4]
Lycanthrope A was discovered consuming the corpse of a small child in a dead-end urban alley. Hunter A positioned himself at the mouth of the alley, approximately thirty meters from the target, while the investigator observed from the other side of the cross-street, concealed behind a newspaper dispenser. Video data shows that Hunter A’s shots exhibited 64% less accuracy than in the baseline demonstration: he had previously declared his intention to aim for the head[5], but of the six shots he fired, two flew wide to the left, three flew wide to the right, and one struck Lycanthrope A in the shoulder. Hunter A attempted to fire a seventh shot, but suffered a gun malfunction, and then was struck to the ground by the charging lycanthrope. It is notable, however, that the lycanthrope fled rather than engage in further confrontation.
Retrieval and examination of the pistol shows that the seventh round did not chamber correctly, owing to the separation of the silver point from its copper case. The decrease in accuracy may arise from multiple causes, including fear-induced operator error. It may be presumed, however, that the difficulty of casting high-quality silver bullets introduces a degree of variability which will decrease performance under field conditions, even where malfunction does not occur.
The escape of Lycanthrope A unfortunately precluded the possibility of forensic examination. Six spent bullets, however—one bloodstained—were recovered from the test location; this indicates that the shot which struck the target’s shoulder passed through the tissue and out the other side. The investigator observed a distinct limp and other indications of pain as the lycanthrope fled (the video camera by this time was recording the pavement), which suggests a genuine injury to the target.