and see Juni’s men retreating into the building. At least a dozen have
been killed or are lying wounded. But everyone else is ducking out of sight.
Shark was crouched low, but now he stands and stares after the departing troops. He’s as confused as I am. Then, as the squeal
of the horn dies away, we hear something else. A grinding noise coming from the outer wall of the compound.
We whirl as one, just in time to see the wall split in several places. We should have seen this coming. Timas told us, when
he was explaining about the grooves in the ground. Everything here is built out of metal panels that can be swiftly slid together
— or just as easily slid apart.
As we watch with a sickening sense of helplessness, panels roll back, leaving gaping holes in the wall. Seconds later I spot
the first werewolf sniffing at the gap. Then it catches our scent and bounds ahead, followed by dozens more. They converge
on us like giant locusts, screeching, howling, free at last to attack and kill.
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET
T HE helicopter!” Shark roars, leading the break for our only hope of survival. We pound after him, but I see within seconds that
we haven’t a snowman in hell’s chance. The werewolves are closer to the helicopter than we are, and they can run faster.
Alert to the danger, James starts to take his Farrier Harrier up, out of the reach of the onrushing werewolves. But he’s not
quick enough. One of the larger beasts takes a running leap and grabs hold of the skid on the pilot’s side. Marian levels
her gun at it, but the weight of the werewolf causes the helicopter to lurch and she’s jolted off target. The werewolf hauls
itself up onto the skid and drives its fists and head through the pilot’s window. It locks its jaws on James’s terror-stricken
face and savages him.
James battles hopelessly against the werewolf, tries to thrash free, fails, then goes limp. The helicopter spins out of control,
swishes left then right, then banks and smashes into the compound wall. The rotors snap off with an ear-splitting squeal.
The blood-spattered glass shatters and the body of the helicopter buckles inwards. But it doesn’t explode like I expect it
to.
I spot a shaken, bloodied Marian struggling from the remains of the wreckage. Three werewolves jump her while she’s half out
of the helicopter. They drive her back inside and finish her off, fighting over the scraps.
The first werewolf is on us before we can feel any pity for James and Marian. Shark takes careful aim and fires a bullet through
the center of its head. Then he changes direction and darts for the helicopter that was already here when we arrived. He bellows
at us to follow.
Werewolves quickly fill the area around us. Shark and his remaining soldiers fire at them freely, wounding, maiming, killing.
I can’t work up any sympathy for my unfortunate relatives. It’s them or us now.
Timas stoops over Pip’s body as we pass, swiftly loosens her backpack, and burrows through it as he runs, whistling casually.
He picks out a device, smiles, shakes his head, and carefully replaces it. Never drops his pace, keeping up with the rest
of us even though he’s not concentrating.
Some of the werewolves are distracted by the stranded, wounded survivors of Juni’s forces — easy pickings. The ground between
us and the helicopter partially clears. Shark and his team focus their fire on those who remain in our way, opening a path.
Hope flares within me. The despair I felt seconds ago evaporates. We’re going to make it!
We reach the helicopter. More and more werewolves are closing on us, but it doesn’t matter. Liam, Stephen, and the injured
Leo cut down those closest to the helicopter and stand guard outside, keeping the area clear while the rest of us clamber
in.
Shark and Timas bundle into the cockpit. Shark whoops and tries to start the engine. There’s no response. He frowns, ducks,
looks beneath the
been killed or are lying wounded. But everyone else is ducking out of sight.
Shark was crouched low, but now he stands and stares after the departing troops. He’s as confused as I am. Then, as the squeal
of the horn dies away, we hear something else. A grinding noise coming from the outer wall of the compound.
We whirl as one, just in time to see the wall split in several places. We should have seen this coming. Timas told us, when
he was explaining about the grooves in the ground. Everything here is built out of metal panels that can be swiftly slid together
— or just as easily slid apart.
As we watch with a sickening sense of helplessness, panels roll back, leaving gaping holes in the wall. Seconds later I spot
the first werewolf sniffing at the gap. Then it catches our scent and bounds ahead, followed by dozens more. They converge
on us like giant locusts, screeching, howling, free at last to attack and kill.
RUNNING THE GAUNTLET
T HE helicopter!” Shark roars, leading the break for our only hope of survival. We pound after him, but I see within seconds that
we haven’t a snowman in hell’s chance. The werewolves are closer to the helicopter than we are, and they can run faster.
Alert to the danger, James starts to take his Farrier Harrier up, out of the reach of the onrushing werewolves. But he’s not
quick enough. One of the larger beasts takes a running leap and grabs hold of the skid on the pilot’s side. Marian levels
her gun at it, but the weight of the werewolf causes the helicopter to lurch and she’s jolted off target. The werewolf hauls
itself up onto the skid and drives its fists and head through the pilot’s window. It locks its jaws on James’s terror-stricken
face and savages him.
James battles hopelessly against the werewolf, tries to thrash free, fails, then goes limp. The helicopter spins out of control,
swishes left then right, then banks and smashes into the compound wall. The rotors snap off with an ear-splitting squeal.
The blood-spattered glass shatters and the body of the helicopter buckles inwards. But it doesn’t explode like I expect it
to.
I spot a shaken, bloodied Marian struggling from the remains of the wreckage. Three werewolves jump her while she’s half out
of the helicopter. They drive her back inside and finish her off, fighting over the scraps.
The first werewolf is on us before we can feel any pity for James and Marian. Shark takes careful aim and fires a bullet through
the center of its head. Then he changes direction and darts for the helicopter that was already here when we arrived. He bellows
at us to follow.
Werewolves quickly fill the area around us. Shark and his remaining soldiers fire at them freely, wounding, maiming, killing.
I can’t work up any sympathy for my unfortunate relatives. It’s them or us now.
Timas stoops over Pip’s body as we pass, swiftly loosens her backpack, and burrows through it as he runs, whistling casually.
He picks out a device, smiles, shakes his head, and carefully replaces it. Never drops his pace, keeping up with the rest
of us even though he’s not concentrating.
Some of the werewolves are distracted by the stranded, wounded survivors of Juni’s forces — easy pickings. The ground between
us and the helicopter partially clears. Shark and his team focus their fire on those who remain in our way, opening a path.
Hope flares within me. The despair I felt seconds ago evaporates. We’re going to make it!
We reach the helicopter. More and more werewolves are closing on us, but it doesn’t matter. Liam, Stephen, and the injured
Leo cut down those closest to the helicopter and stand guard outside, keeping the area clear while the rest of us clamber
in.
Shark and Timas bundle into the cockpit. Shark whoops and tries to start the engine. There’s no response. He frowns, ducks,
looks beneath the
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