Wolf Island (13 page)

I’m about halfway to the Farrier Harrier when a horn blares, overriding the noise of the helicopter and guns. I shouldn’t
stop, but I can’t help myself. Pausing, I glance back 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.

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 control panel. Comes up pale-faced. “They removed…” He curses, then stares at Timas with wild hope. “Any
way you could… ?”

Timas takes his nose out of Pip’s backpack long enough to peer down. “No,” he says. “This is going nowhere.” He continues
rummaging through the backpack.

“The boats,” Meera gasps. “Werewolves can’t swim.”

“It would take at least two minutes to lower a boat,” Prae says miserably. “We could cut one free and drop it, but we’d still
have to climb down the ladders. They’d clamber after us or hurl themselves off the cliff on top of us. We’d never make it.”

“I could put a shield in place at the top of the ladder,” I pant.

“You’d need a bigger shield than that,” Timas murmurs. “Didn’t you notice the slits in the cliffside walls of the compound
when you were studying the maps? They’re so the guards can fire at anything attacking from the seaward direction. They can
pick us off if we try to descend.”

“Could you cover us from gunfire and werewolves all the way to the bottom?” Shark asks.

“I don’t know,” I groan. “I can try.”

“I don’t like it,” he growls. “We’d be too exposed. Any other suggestions?”

“Can you get us inside the compound again?” Meera asks Prae.

“No. I don’t know the security codes.”

“Timas?”

“I could figure them out,” he says calmly, “but it would take several minutes.”

There’s a scream. Leo goes down, tackled by a pair of small werewolves. Liam and Stephen fire into them, but it’s too late.
When they fall away, Leo’s eyes are wide and lifeless, a shredded mesh where his throat should be.

“Out of time,” Shark sighs. “Let’s try for the boats and just hope for —”

“Caves!” I shout, flashing on an image of a map of the island. I grab Prae’s right arm. “Are there caves near here?”

“I don’t know.” She scowls. “I wasn’t involved with this project. I haven’t —”

“There are a few within reach,” Timas cuts in. He looks at me curiously. “What sort of cave are you interested in?”

“One with a single entrance, so we can block it off and seal ourselves in.”

“What will that achieve?” Shark frowns.

“If I have a few hours, I can open a window to the Demonata universe.”

Shark stares at me, then the boats, then the breached perimeter wall and the hordes of werewolves flooding through. He calculates
the odds.

“If we don’t make it to the cave, we can break for the sea and jump off one of the cliffs,” Timas says thoughtfully.

“So we’d have a plan B.” Shark nods. “OK. The cave. Go for it!”

Spilling out of the helicopter, we face the oncoming ranks of werewolves and press stubbornly — suicidally — forward into
the thick of them.

Barbaric madness. Blasting our way through the wild, fast, powerful, stinking, howling creatures. Shark, Timas, Liam, Stephen,
Spenser, and Prae gather in a tight circle around Meera and me. They stand three on either side, backs pressed in against
us. We move like a crab, edging forward awkwardly. The soldiers and Prae shower the werewolves with bullets, but it won’t
be long before one breaks through, then another, then all.

“This is crazy!” I yell, changing my mind. “We’ll never make it. Let’s try the boats.”

“No,” Timas responds. “If we reach the wall, we’ll be over the worst. Notice how the flow of werewolves has lessened? Most
of the beasts within quick reach of the compound are already here.”

“So?” Shark shouts, never taking his eyes off the beasts, firing every few seconds, measuring his bullets carefully, not wasting
any.

“I have a plan,” Timas says. “It should buy us some time.”

“What sort of a plan?” I ask suspiciously.

Timas jiggles Pip’s backpack at me. “The sort that goes
boom
!”

One of the larger, incredibly muscular werewolves leaps through the air. Bullets from more than one gun lace his body, but
he lands on top of Spenser and yanks him away from us. The werewolf tumbles after the soldier and drops dead a second later.
But the damage is done. Spenser’s cut off. Before he can rejoin the group, half a dozen wolfen savages are covering him. He
dies screaming a woman’s name.

We push on, no time to mourn our fallen friend. I’m itching to use magic, but I have to save myself. No point wasting my energy
on getting to the cave if I can’t open a window to safety once we’re there.

We creep closer to the wall, the werewolves dogging our every step, snapping and clawing at us, trying to press through the
rain of bullets. I notice that most of the larger beasts are hanging back behind the smaller specimens. They must be some
of the enhanced creatures, those who were physically and mentally altered, trained to hunt in packs. They’re letting the weaker
creatures hurl themselves at us, to tire us, so they can move in when we’re more vulnerable.

According to Timas, the Lambs created more than two hundred of these newer, deadlier werewolves. I can’t count more than fifty
around us. That means the rest must be spread across the island — or waiting for us outside the wall.

I think about sharing this potentially fatal piece of news with the rest of the team, but see no point in freaking them out.
If a hundred-plus of the stronger, smarter savages are lying in ambush, we’re finished. No point worrying the others. If that’s
our fate, let their last few minutes be filled with hope instead of dread.

We make the wall without any more casualties. Shark and the soldiers look completely drained. But they never slow or waver.
True professionals, driving themselves on past the point of exhaustion.

We move into one of the gaps in the wall and pause at a shout from Timas. He, Shark, and Liam train their weapons on the mass
of werewolves on the compound side of the wall. Stephen and Prae cover the rear, picking off the stray werewolves who haven’t
invaded yet or are just arriving.

“Give me a few seconds,” Timas says once we’ve established our precarious position. He slips out of his place, passing Meera
his gun.

“I don’t know how to use this,” she screeches.

“Point it at a target and pull the trigger,” Timas says. “I’ve set it to its simplest mode.” He nudges her forward with an
elbow, then digs into Pip’s backpack and produces several small devices. He hands a few to me.