The man emerged from the side room, his black gear off, clad in a t-shirt and shorts. He was a well-muscled, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair. "What's your name?" he asked her.
"I'm Michelle....oh god...what's happening?"
"Michelle, I need you to listen to me," the man said firmly, " How many people were with you?"
"Just the three of them and myself," Michelle said dully, shock having begun to set in, now that her adrenalin was wearing off.
"Okay...good. Were you bitten or scratched by any of them?" The man was making notes of her responses in a small pad on the kitchen counter as he talked to her.
"No. None of them got me."
"This is a dangerous place, Michelle. You kids should never have come out here."
"I know," she said, "but we...I didn't know the stories were true!"
"They're unstable monsters now, your friends. Soon enough they're going to try and make a pack of their own, and take it into the city. The potential for chaos on a worldwide scale is uncalculable," he told her, sounding quite grim.
"So...what...what do we do?" she asked.
"Make a pack of our own," he replied. Michelle heard his words, turning to ask what he meant, and was greeted by a solid punch to her temple. She crumpled to the floor in a heap, unconscious.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Michelle awoke, naked, tied spread-eagle to a bed. Her captor was standing over her, waving a small bottle of smelling salts under her nose. Michelle let out a scream, and was given a hard slap in response.
"Stop that! The time for tears is over. If you want to live, you have to listen to me implicitly. One more scream like that, and I'll slit your fucking throat. The government wants this situation under control, and I am granted any means necessary to take care of the threat. Do you understand?"
Michelle whimpered in response.
"Good," he said, giving her a smile. "The reason why your friends are unstable and dangerous is they've never had a true alpha, no true leadership. The virus itself lends itself to an almost military style of command. Any werewolf created by an alpha looks to the alpha for leadership. Your friends, however, had no alpha...they were created by accidental ingestion of the chemical, and all changed at roughly the same time. I can't fight them alone, and I can't stop the spread of the virus by myself. That's where you come in."
"I don't understand," Michelle said, still trying not to scream. She felt a pinch on her inner thigh, and saw him discard a syringe. "What the fuck was that?"
"Concentrated virus. Even now, it's zooming through your system, changing things on the molecular level. Has the fever hit you yet?" He was smiling at her, now sitting down on the side of the bed.
"What?? What the..."Michelle stammered, now she was covered in a cold sweat.
"In a few minutes, you'll be a werewolf, but not like them...that virus...was taken from me. I'm your alpha now." He grinned at her, his teeth elongating.