Angus Morphs

It was his first day in prison after being sentenced to five years for being involved in a botched armed robbery that had left three people dead. He hadn’t killed any of them himself, but even association has a penalty.

Angus James McArdle was just 19 years old but had already served time at HMP Cornton Vale in his home town of Stirling and could be described by many as lacking in discipline. It had been an ex-cellmate of his that had turned his head and his mind into making some big changes within himself. That cellmate had been a fellow named Olsen Marc, a Danish National who had been involved in a drug’s smuggling ring that had gone south and had left him holding the candle. Cornton Vale was a typical prison in that it had its own category sections running A through to D but the Warden often liked to mix things up a bit by putting Cat C prisoners in with those of Cat A and B. His reasoning behind this was to try and encourage the lower grade inmates that prison was not a joyride or a holiday at Butlins.

Olsen would tell Angus stories when they were alone in their cell, creepy stuff about not only life behind bars but also stories that were designed to give Angus the jitters. Whether these were fictional or had genuinely happened is anyone’s guess but in Angus’s mind these were either very real or Olsen Marc should be awarded something by Pulitzer. About a year before Angus had landed himself at Her Majesties Pleasure there had been a new law passed in the UK that allowed for new prisoners under the age of 21 to submit themselves for Army Bootcamp with the ‘prize’ being a place in the army fulltime and the beginnings of a potentially great career. The bootcamp would last for eight weeks and would involve challenges ranging from the textbook to field drills and exercises with all sorts of rigour in-between. It was the story that Olsen had told Angus on that wet and windy Thursday night as they sat on their respective bunks that had convinced Angus that he could no longer stay here and go through his five-year sentence for much longer.

The very next morning, Angus had made enquiries into the chances of him being accepted onto the Army program. The Warden Officer in charge had laughed into his face so hard but had eventually seen that Angus was really set on the idea and had agreed to get him forms to fill in. The sheaf of papers had been pushed under his cell door later that afternoon, not long after Angus had returned from his hour exercise and he had immediately grabbed them up and started reading and filling them in. Such was the speed that he did this meant that he was able to submit them back to the Warden Officer at breakfast the next day. The WO was stunned at this, he didn’t hold a very high opinion of Angus anyway but also felt that all the lad needed was a chance in a different environment to the one he had grown up in. The WO submitted the papers that afternoon and within three days and just two meetings it had been agreed that Angus should be accepted onto the Army Bootcamp.

One of the provisos was that you were allowed to train with the Army and partake in the bootcamp training sessions but had to return to your prison cell for the first two weeks. This had been put into the rules as a contingency against inmates thinking that it just another easy way out. Everybody was stunned, including Angus himself, at how well he had taken to it. Olsen Marc even commented when he had returned to the cell on how well he was looking. The stories that were set to disturb had now become a thing of the past too.

There had been numerous attempts to put the prison recruits off during the bootcamp, that was always going to be a given. It was anybody’s guess as to where they were able to obtain sachets of itching and fart powder from but, needless to say, they were both frequently deployed. The drill instructors at the bootcamp were Army men themselves but the top brass had pretty much washed their hands of the whole scheme and had wanted as little to do with it as possible. Ice and water buckets were one of the favourite attack methods with every recruit who got past the initial exams and out into the small dormitory subjected ritually to them. The worst tactic seemed to be sending the recruits out on a 10km run at dusk and drenching their beds just before they returned, Angus had been stung by this a number of times.

But, in the end, he had persevered and not complained and had earned a little begrudging respect from the sergeants. On Thursday the 12th at just after midday he had been laying on his top bunk musing over the changes that he had made so far and also feeling some pride in himself. At that moment, with a comical bang and a crash, Drill Sgt Mathers had entered the dormitory and stood there studying the room. He barked his orders in a similar tone to those of Gunnery Sgt Hartman in the film ‘Full Metal Jacket’ and the three recruits jumped down from their prone positions and did standing to attentions.

“McArdle! Higgins! Singh!” he yelled, “We think you are ready! Full packs on and out front in five minutes!”

Without a further word, he turned and left leaving Angus, Sam Higgins and Ali Singh to look at each other in wonderment. It took a good 30 seconds for any of them to respond but once Angus started to move the others soon snapped out of it and followed. The three recruits went outside with their packs on and stood in front of the Drill Sgt awaiting instruction, the sun was up high in the sky and it was going to be a very hot afternoon. All three men were handed a small numbered flag and what looked like a metal car registration plate, which they took and gazed at.

“Mission is to return to this spot by 6pm with your packs intact,” the Sgt yelled. “You are to enter the woods from the east, you can either work together or fly solo but your registrations need to be planted at all four corners of the wood according to our GPS readings. There will be obstacles and booby traps and there are three snipers out there somewhere, each with one live bullet. Those who return will be grateful to be alive and welcomed into the Army ranks as Privates. Good luck to you!”

With that, the Drill Sgt turned on his heels and marched away leaving the three recruits to stare at his back as he went. The three of them knew of the woods but had not entered them in any way before now. Angus knew that this was his chance to impress and prove that he had what it took to complete this thing, he reached into his pack and drew out his compass. He took a reading of his position and started to walk away to get himself heading due east towards the woods.

“Hey, Man!” shouted Higgins. “Where you going?”

Angus turned and smiled. “Enter the woods from the east, didn’t you hear him?”

Sam considered for a moment and then both he and Ali set off behind him. Angus made steady progress in the woods, mainly because there was still something of a path to follow. The other two were lagging behind by about 20 yards though and he came to a decision.

“If you two want to work together then that’s fine!” he called. “I think we are better off on our own, smaller targets – you know?”

Angus broke into a run, leaving the path and disappearing into the thickening undergrowth. Sam and Ali tried to follow but were just not quick enough and were soon left with just each other for company. Both men were scared to their socks, even though for them things were only just beginning.

About an hour later, Ali was taken from behind in a frenzied rush of activity that had caught Scott completely off guard. Something, or someone had been so stealthy in its approach that the only thing left was Ali’s beret. Scott felt the need to shout his name but his own instinct kicked in and he remained quiet, studying the undergrowth where Ali had gone. A bird of some description let out a cry and Scott looked up, his face was sweaty and agonised, then came the unmistakeable crack of a rifle shot. Scott let out a low moan, he knew well enough that he wouldn’t be seeing his little Indian sidekick again, and pushed forward. Ahead was even thicker undergrowth and Scott had to use both arms to push aside heavy branches and foliage. The body of Ali swung from a tree just ahead, he had suffered a single rifle shot to the centre of his forehead and Scott thought for a moment that at least he hadn’t suffered. This feeling dissipated very quickly when Scott got closer and saw that Ali had been sliced open from his neck to his cock and his own intestines and been used to hang him up. Scott screamed and wailed at the same time, the sound that escaped him being something unheard of and inhuman at the same time.

Angus was morphing into something else. His number of kills now stood at three, all in a very short space of time. His first had been Ali, who he hadn’t even recognised such was his altered mental state, who he had found a bit too easy for his liking. His second was the sniper who had targeted both Scott and Ali moments earlier but had been unable to get a clean shot off. Angus had used his knife with callous effect, slitting his throat from ear to ear and giving him the look that he was smiling forever. Angus had then taken the rifle and shot the corpse of Ali, finding the centre of his forehead with remarkable ease. It was now one recruit and one sniper down, one recruit and two snipers to go.

The second and third rifle cracks seemed to Scott to come from different parts of the wood but at the same time. He had completely forgotten about the task that had been set and was now concentrating on getting back to the base camp and relative safety. He pulled his compass from his pack and tried to determine his location but the cover of the woodland was causing drifting shadows and sharp sunlight breaking through was causing glare.

What was that? That noise…

The thing that had been Angus rushed him from both sides at once and the last thing that went through Scott’s mind was How the actual fuck is that possible? The Angus thing slashed at him from both his left and his right, he felt organs being perforated and begin to bleed out but he remained conscious to the pain and the alien nature of what was happening. His blood spurted at all angles and covered leaves, twigs and branches as high as 40ft in the air and finally Scott felt that it was all over. His eyes took a last, casual look around at the woodland and at the thing that had done this to him. It was morphing yet again, right in front of him, becoming Angus again. Scott Higgins drew his last breath and went off to meet his maker.

The Drill Sgt returned to the front of the dormitory at 6pm, he fully expected nobody to be there but was met by Angus. He was covered in blood but it wasn’t his own.