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The insistent sound of beeping rang in Mark's ears so loudly that it rippled into his dreams and disturbed vague images of nonsensical worlds and creatures. It wasn't a dream he was particularly enjoying or disliked, but he still tried to curl further under the covers and pulled the pillow tighter to his head. The beeping continued and started to rise in pitch as he did his best to block it out. The hell if he wanted to listen to it this early in the morning. He tried to force it away by concentrating on something else. Anything else. He grasped for sleep, but it wasn't to be. No matter how exhausted his body was, the world wasn't going to wait for him to get some decent rest. A hand gripped his shoulder and shook him out of the spider webbed dreams and he jerked his head up and out of the covers.

"Whazzat?" He slurred and squinted at the abrasive overhead lights that made it impossible to pick out who the hell had shaken him.

"Stop dreaming, you have to get up." A female voice, it sounded amused. It was either Claire or Michelle; both of them were always amused. "The alarm has been going off for the last fifteen minutes. Your two bunk mates are already gone."

"God, what time is is... HEY! Damnit, it's cold!" He yelped , making out Claire's short hair asshe yanked his covers forcing him to sit up, shivering.

"They'll get the heaters fixed next week and besides, it's not that cold. You need to be at your station in twenty minutes. If you hurry you can still grab a quick shower before getting dressed." Claire tossed his covers at the foot of the bed and grinned. "You know, if I have to keep waking you up like this I'm going to find more amusing ways of doing it."

Mark growled out a response that was none too polite. He was too tired to manage polite at the moment. He out and grabbed his wire rimmed glasses so he could fumble them onto his face, ignoring the sound of her retreating footsteps as he squinted at the alarm clock next to his bunk. Just a few minutes past one am. He groaned a bit and pushed himself up and out of the warmth of his mattress and rubbed his hands through his hair. He hadn't been thinking right when he'd offered to take the night shift. He'd always enjoyed being awake at the wee hours of the night and that still hadn't changed, but the shifts had started to grow harsher and longer. He would often stumble into bed after sixteen hours on his feet if he were lucky. Other times he'd be up for days at a time.

He ignored the cool bite of the air and snagged his neatly folded clothes before heading out of the room and towards the showers. Showers. Plural. Growing up he'd never thought of the military as offering him any sort of life. He didn't like the way they took orders without question. He wasn't good at most sports or even all that accurate when he tried to use a BB gun. Instead he'd applied himself towards several notable scientific fields with the intent of being hired somewhere with letters rather than a name live comfortably on a decent salary. It had always been his focus and drive, but even with two doctorates under his belt he was stumbling down the hall with people in military greens and spent his days bunking with four other men.

Most people thought Anaheim Pharmaceuticals worked as a smaller branch of a far larger company that was researching new chemotherapy drugs. They were set well away from the city and had acres of land that had been cleared away to make room for a fence. The massive building only held a handful of employees, or at least that's what the government let the public think. Most of the employees lived there. They had bunks, showers, entertainment rooms even a cafeteria. You name it and they were given it. He'd been hired on here fresh out of high school and was allotted an officers title, though not the privileges and responsibilities of it. Most of the scientists who worked here were Captains of one rank or another. It kept them under the military's heel while they worked.

_And the idiot I am, I thought it was a smart move. _ Mark grumbled to himself as he stepped into the showers and picked out a stall.

The first hit of the hot water made him gasp and then sigh out as he began to wash himself. No, it wasn't the life he would have chosen, but the pay was far better then he'd expected. They were frantic to find people with enough intelligence and training that they had offered him near double his normal salary. He was lead physicist of the night crew, a position that wasn't as lofty as the day crew, but one that gave him quite a lot of pull. They ran the more dangerous trials at night when they would have most of the area shut down and that added to the respect others gave him. He was secure in his position, but lately it was growing frustrating. The men and women they gave him were fine enough employees, but they were military to the bone.

They had no sense of curiosity, they did it because he told them to. They neither offered any opinions unasked, nor showed any spark of real personality. It meant that he felt like he was running a bunch of robots with the exception of Claire and her good natured ribbing. That, at least, was a constant that could make him smile no matter how hard his day had been. She wasn't as bright as many, but she had a talent for knowing when things were going to go wrong. He didn't know how she did it, but the other night when the entire containment field had been about to snap in an explosion she had diverted it with practiced ease. Teleportation, or at least something like it, who would have ever thought they would be able to rig something like that. It was still impossible in his mind, but month by month they crept closer to having it become real.

Mark finished his shower with just enough time to shove the grey-green shirt over his head and pull on a set of camo pants. The uniform fit him snugly and he even enjoyed how it made him look, but it always made him feel as if he should be parading about. His dog tags bounced against his chest as he finished doing up the pants as he trotted down the hall with his lab coat under one hand. It was the one symbol of his profession he wasn't going to give up. Even if the government thought that he should fit in with everyone else. He had earned that coat and he wanted it. It made him feel the part.

"Captain Munis!" One of the guards at the door snapped to attention as he fumbled in his lab coat to pull out his ID so it could swiped.

He gave a brief nod and tried not to show his unease at being saluted. It bothered him that he was always referred to by his rank. He was a doctor. He was a scientist. Dr. Munis was what he preferred to be called, but since the military had cracked down on the warehouse, things had become a bit stricter. He simply sighed as he swiped his card and got the green light to push into the lab.

"About time." Claire grinned over at him, her eyes bright beneath the army cap that was tugged down low to keep her hair away from her face. "They're going to activate the field tonight and we're going to be playing with electrical currents."

"Playing?" He lifted a brow and shrugged on his lab coat. "This isn't a game, Claire. You should know that more than anyone."

The black haired woman gave a shrug and the grin didn't falter. "Science isn't all sour faces, you know. The great inventors enjoyed their work, you can be sure of that."

"Not when we're funded by them." He jerked his head towards the stiff soldiers that stood at the door. "We just got the field back to being dormant; I think we should leave off trying to bring it back online after the last issue."

"The signals are normal. Here... Look here, there's nothing. Not even a blip to show that it's unsettled." Claire pointed at the screen and he leaned down and began tapping on the keyboard.

The 'field', as they called it, was a combination of different fields and no one could quite agree with what it should be filed under. It was neither electrical, nor was it nuclear, it wasn't quite magnetic either, but it was close. It reacted a lot like a super conducted magnet in so much as it could repel or attract. The military was pleased at the former. They already had plans on using it as a sort of locked door, but there were too many kinks to work out. A surge of the wrong sort of electricity could make it super conductive. When that happened, the device didn't care if it was metal, flesh or rubber; it would suck you in and tear you apart. They hadn't had any casualties yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time. It was too unstable and 'playing' with it was much like poking a rattle snake. Eventually someone was going to get bitten and he didn't want it to be someone on his team.

He ran through the specs and glanced up at the circular portion of the floor that was raised up and blocked behind six inches of bullet proof material. The radius was far larger than the actual danger zone, but it was better to be cautious. It seemed dormant, it still had a high energy signature, but it wasn't spiking or faltering. He settled down on the chair and continued to type on the computer as he brought up readouts of the latest issue they had had with it.

"Standard run, pass the word down the line. If we can get the field up and active we'll see about some electrical pulses on a new frequency. Griggs was talking about static charge earlier." Mark spoke without looking up from the screen and felt Claire move away from him.

It was a standard evening. As standard as an evening got. They started bringing up charts to him after each change to the field and he marked down differences. They repeated the same experiments over and over again, but each time the damn field changed the results. It was something that shouldn't happen. It should be giving them the same results if they hadn't changed anything. At the best of times, Mark found it intriguing that it reacted in so many different ways. Sometimes it would attract, sometimes repel, sometimes it would destroy what was attracted, some days it would just hold it levitating and close. The idea was that it could be linked to another field and the properties would allow a living creature to pass through creating instant teleportation. At least that was the theory. He liked the theory, but he was starting to doubt it.

They hadn't created a second field, not yet. They might not if they couldn't at least get the damn thing up and running right. In the midst of the tests he dropped his carefully maintained façade of being easily approachable and sociable. He wasn't the best when it came to social situations, but he learned to deal with them by watching others. He mimicked and could even become friends with some, like Claire, but when he was hip deep and concentrating he found it harder to pretend. He distanced himself and concentrated on what was important. Claire and a few of the others knew what was happening and didn't take offense. The military personnel were the ones that kept away from him and didn't seem to understand his attitude. He was just pushing away from his desk with a frustrated snarl when the entire building seemed to buck beneath him.

"JESUS CHRIST!" One of the guards cried out and dropped to the floor while the other unsnapped their gun.

"CLAIRE!" He turned his head as the ground bucked again and he lurched backwards to grab the edge of the console. "What the hell is going on?!"

"Earthquake!" The answer came from one of the technicians who had dropped down and rolled under the desk. "Get under something, Munis!"

"SHUT DOWN THE FIELD!" He stumbled to one side as the entire world seemed to vibrate under him. "Claire, get the damn field shut down!! NOW!"

Mark looked around and saw most of the people had rolled beneath desks and crouched close to the ground. Two techs stood at their stations and were typing frantically, but he couldn't see Claire. He didn't have time to look for her. The field, a rippling spark of light on the stand, started to pulse and he leaned down to type the end command sequences into his computer. The lights overhead flickered on and off as his fingers flew and he fought not to drop to the ground as the world seemed to be trying to buck him off the surface. He gritted his teeth and pushed through the nauseating movements, but he didn't get far before the lights flickered off and left them all standing in the orange glow of the E-lights.

"Shit shit shit shit... back up, why isn't the backup online?!" He snapped out as he stared at the black computer screen. It didn't come to life in reaction to the generator, but that didn't mean the field was lacking energy.

The crackling sound of energy spilled over the room and several people screamed. He looked up and watched as it started to drag in the edges of the metal arms that formed an artificial barrier. They bent and twisted inwards, almost as if they were trying to be sucked into a tornado, but there was no wind. One of them cracked as he watched the field flared to life with a sickly yellow glow that meant trouble.

Mark didn't think. He didn't have time to think. If the power was down and the generator wasn't coming online that meant that there was nothing to contain the energy they had created. It could start to try and pull in the entire room. The moment that happened they would all be dead, hell, it could spread wider. With a shout he launched himself up and over the consoles. His lean body dropped down and he slid into the edge of the thick plastic walls so he could start to pry up the portion of the floor that held the manual override. The world rolled beneath him, bucked and shuddered like an unsettled beast as his fingers tore at the heavy metal grate.

"MARK! MARK! GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT!!!" Claire's voice was a shriek before a shattering sound erupted behind him.

He turned his head in time to see one of the six inch thick plastic walls bow inwards and shatter, but the pieces didn't reach the ground. They were sucked towards the field and he had only a moment to scream out in terror. The pressure formed at the center of his body and his fingers slipped away from the grate. There was no fighting the draw, it was as if a great hand had wrapped around him, cut off his air, and compressed his heart. His last sight was of the room stampeding through the exit; their faces glancing back as he was lost in the pressure and draw of what they had created.

~ ~ * ~ ~

The first thought Mark had when he came back to himself was to feel gratitude and relief that he wasn't dead. The second was that he was bruised in places he had never even felt before. He came to lying on something soft and damp. He didn't want to move. His entire body had a faint ache as if he had strained every muscle in his body and they were protesting ever being twisted and bent that way. He whimpered softly to himself and only after several minutes of feeling grateful he was alive did he try to pry open an eye to see where he was and what had happened. He half expected to open his eyes to the medical bay or perhaps to rubble where the field had destroyed the warehouse, but he didn't look at anything familiar. In fact, he didn't see anything that he could remotely call man made.

He stared at the massive fern leaf that spilled out beside him with fronds so large that they were easily larger than his body. The dainty leaves, or at least, what should have been dainty leaves, were larger than his hand and ridged. The greenery was brilliant in the sunlight and he frowned to himself as he tried to figure out where it had come from. They had a few fake plants in offices, but nothing this size and nothing out in the open. It was only then that he realized he sprawled on thick dark green moss that was edged with lighter, almost neon, green patches. With a groan he rolled over onto all fours and pushed himself shakily up.

This... this isn't right... He looked around in confusion as he couldn't see anything of the lab or buildings or wreckage. Instead he found himself staring at several massive ferns that grew at the base of truly enormous trees.

He stared at the broad bases and peered upwards towards the towering sentinels that rose up around him. He had gone to seen the redwoods in several parks and had always thought them amazing. They were massive, truly massive and made one feel every short inch that a person was. Their forests were strange and alien and, as he stared upwards, he felt a similar sensation that had felt staring at them. This wasn't a tree the way he thought of it, it was a giant that had a trunk so large that it would take dozens of people to circle around. It was the sort of tree one could drive a car through and it was surrounded by massive ferns that gleamed in the sunlight with a hint of wetness still clinging to the fronds. It was... unexpected. It was a bit frightening even.

"Where am I..." He trailed off and moved his hand up to smooth through his short brown hair and frowned to himself.

There were no forests like this. Not outside of state parks where they preserved the ancient trees. And those were at least twelve hours away, maybe more. He swallowed and his throat felt dry as he felt both fear and exaltation. He had been transported. The field had somehow worked the way they had wanted it to and without needing another field to connect to. It had snatched him and flung him somewhere else. A wave of dizziness flowed over him and he rocked back and forth before letting out a strained laugh. All he had to do was find a forest ranger and get to a phone and he would be back where he belonged. And then they could figure out the mess that had been made of all of this! And figure out how to harness it so it could be controlled.

"It worked, it really worked." He laughed and pushed his glasses up as he spun around and winced as his muscles protested the fast movement.

The only problem was that he didn't know where he was. He assumed it was in one of the state parks somewhere. The ferns were odd, but they had all sorts of odd things growing in those forests. That's why so many people took pictures there. His best bet was to start walking in a straight line. No matter how many people wanted to bluster and quiver about being lost forever the midst of the woods, he knew that there was little chance of it. The United States was too settled. Oh, some parts up north there might be an issue or Alaska, but not here. Here it was neatly settled into small parks where tourists could eat a meal with their family and children could play. He headed west and turned to push his way through the ferns.

His body was not happy with walking. His muscles ached, even his teeth ached, and he had to squash the fear that he had had something done in the midst of the transfer. The last thing he needed now was to become panicked by any of this. What he needed to do was keep a calm mind, keep walking and find help. If he was hurt, he obviously didn't have broken bones or lacerations. Anything else, he wouldn't be able to do a thing for until he found help. So he concentrated on walking and pushing through the ferns and the giant trees. It was hard going, but he managed it as best that he could. He had nearly spent an hour pushing through the forest when an unearthly wail suddenly rose up on the wind.

It seemed to tremble on the air as it reached a peak and then drifted downwards towards a deeper rumble. It had barely faded away before another voice rose up and the wail came again, but this time it wasn't alone. The wails, no, howls, rose up higher and higher and seemed to pierce his ears as they wove in between each other. They cried out mournfully before being bitten off with short yelps and barks before starting again. It was a sound that he knew; a sound that everyone would know. It was a sound that had played on a hundred movies and soundtracks. The wolves howled and cried out as he swallowed and Mark felt his mouth go dry.

Healthy wolves have never killed a human. They won't come near humans. _ He babbled to himself as he turned and began to push into the forest. _A pack of wolves are healthy. It's not winter, they're not starving. Just keep walking and keep going.

_ _

Mark began to babble to himself mentally as he heard the howls growing in volume before they stopped with a final sharp snarl. The silence didn't make him feel any better as he kicked and pushed through the undergrowth. He repeated to himself that healthy wolves didn't hunt humans, but he couldn't stop himself from starting to nearly run. It was hard going, but the silence made him uneasy and a primal fear started to form. Every sound, every branch shifting or leaf moving seemed ominous as he scrambled over a massive trunk. His feet easily found purchase on the downed log, the bark was so thick it was easier then he'd thought, and by the time he dropped over he was sweating and panting. His heart was hammering against his chest as he tried to catch his breath, only to hear something scraping above him.

He tilted his head back and felt as if he were trapped in a horror movie. A movie in which the monster was real and he was about to find it. He stumbled away from the down tree to see a thickly furred head peering down at him. The black lupine wrinkled back dark lips to show startling white teeth and red gums before it tilted back and the eerie howl burst free from its throat. The further Mark stumbled away, the more he realized that this wasn't right. The wolf was crouched with its paws beneath it, but the forepaws. Gods no, those were nearly hands, short fingered hands. The hands were braced on a pair of powerful dark legs as the creature howled out and suddenly the forest was filled with answering voices.

He didn't have time to make sense of it. If he had tried to make sense of it he felt as if he would go mad. Whatever that thing was, wolf or man, it was calling others to him. He turned just as the forest erupted around him with movement. The bushes swayed and he caught glimpsed of dark grey, brownish-grey, nearly red furred forms tearing through it. With a scream he launched himself into the forest and his legs ached as he tried to leave the nightmare behind. The snarls and howls rang in his ears and he heard them crashing behind him. He stretched his legs farther while sweat poured down the back of his neck and the bushes caught against his lab coat.

Mark stumbled and nearly fell, but it was long enough to glance back to see them. Wolves that ran on two legs with teeth bared and the strange paw-hands gripped short heavy looking spears. They moved so swiftly on their long legs that he didn't have a chance of outrunning them. With a moan he launched himself to a tree and caught his fingers in the deep grooves of the bark. With a prayer that the bark would hold him he used fingers and his booted feet to haul himself upwards. The bark loosened under his fingertips, but it didn't fall as the snarling howls chased him upwards. He half expected to feel a hand grip his ankle and to find himself thrown back into the midst of the beasts that had chased him. He was ready to feel them dragging him away to where they could kill him or eat him or whatever they wanted to do him.

Just... little... further... He panted out roughly, his chest heaving as he pulled himself upwards. It was slow going, and it was only made the harder by the snarling voices beneath him.

He set his eyes on a thickened branch above him, the first one that he could see that might be able to hold his weight. His shirt was soaked and his lab coat felt as if it weighed twenty pounds by the time he reached one shaking hand out and snagged the branch so that he could haul himself upwards. Relief rushed through him as the wood only made a small protesting noise and he was able to wrap his legs securely around and settle his butt against the trunk of the tree. His breathing was hoarse as he leaned his back against the solid weight and licked his wet upper lip nervously. He'd made it; he'd managed to get high enough that they couldn't grab him.

It took him longer then he'd have liked to admit to anyone to look down at his pursuers. He was half expecting the area around the trunk to be empty, but it wasn't. They weren't giving up that easily. The wolves paced around tree and snarled up at him. It was a sound that let a primal part of his brain know that he wasn't the predator here. The gleaming white teeth caught the light as they paced and twisted around each other. Their multihued coats gleamed in the light and some were so similar that he had to count twice to realize that there were only eight. There had seemed to be so many more while he was running. Eight. Eight man-wolves of some sort who were obviously ready to kill him for whatever reason they decided was good enough. Eight wolves between him and the safety of the ground.

He blew out a sigh and then stifled a scream as one of the wolves suddenly launched himself upwards. The powerful body left the ground easily and the paw-hands clutched down against the trunk and flexed while the foot paws scrabbled against the tree. He was trying to climb it! Fear made Mark taste bile on the back of his tongue, but the wolf barely got three feet up before he was forced to drop back down to the ground. It barked out a sound that almost sounded like words and another wolf launched itself upwards towards him. And then another. They started to systematically work around the trunk, never trying the same place twice.

The comfort in seeing them fail at trying to climb made him look closer at the pack. They were almost like men in shape when it came to the arms and legs, but the fingers were short and stubby. Almost like paws. They could grip their spears, but they couldn't get enough flexibility to make use of the tree trunk to climb with. Another surprise was the fact that they were not as nude as he had assumed they were at first glance. It took him a bit, but he soon saw that they wore pelts around their hips and bodies. He was too far up to make out details, but he could see at least two had what looked like belts looped over their chests and pouches hanging from it. Why were they wearing clothes?

Oh god... god... I would ask that... Mark leaned his head back and started to laugh at him. The laughter was tinged with a bit of madness as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

Only he would be caught in this situation and start to wonder why the wolves were wearing clothing instead of wondering what the hell they were and where they came from. He gave his head a short shake and pushed a hand through his sweaty hair. He'd rest here and climb higher towards one of the more secure branches. If he was lucky he'd find a way to get to another tree and even another so he could avoid the beasts. It was a good workable plan and one that would hopefully get him back to civilization so he could sort this all out in the safety of his lab. As he pushed his back away from the trunk, though, something didn't feel quite right. As if he were being watched, and watched closely. It made his skin crawl.

He stared down at the snarling wolves as the one he assumed was the leader was snarling between several of them. Their eyes flickered up at him, devoid of any semblance of humanity. That wasn't it though, he knew they were there. He shifted a bit and moved one of his hands to press against the trunk behind him before he started to edge a leg up so he could stand. He was halfway through the movement when he glanced upwards to gauge what room he had before hitting the branch above him. That's when he found himself staring at the wicked metal point of an arrow that was less than three feet away from him; an arrow that was aimed directly at his chest. He stopped breathing as he looked beyond the weapon and found himself looking into a pair of narrowed eyes set on a rusty red furred head of a squirrel. The tufted ears were held back and the creature curled its lips back.

"Naddya chik-kik." The beast chattered out and drew the bow taut in an obvious threat. Mark's heart skipped a beat as he simply stared at the weapon and beast.

_How do I answer that?! _ Was the only thought his fear fogged mind could form.