Wolf Island (16 page)

But I’ve always ignored that niggling voice and I ignore it now. Hold tight. Stay focused. Wait.

We can smell them now and hear their labored panting. We’ve moved down the cave, as close to the lowest point as we can crawl.
I thought it would have made more sense to stay back from the blast, but Timas insists he knows what he’s doing. “Time is
of the essence,” he says. “We have to risk getting singed.”

The werewolves sound like they’re no more than a few feet away. Maybe the first one is already sticking its head through,
sliding into our cave. Impossible to tell in the darkness. I want Timas to detonate the bombs immediately, before it’s too
late, but he only hums and whistles, waiting… waiting.…

Finally, when I think my nerves are going to snap, Timas whispers, “Shut your eyes, cover your ears, and keep your fingers
crossed.” A second or two later the rocks explode outwards. I’m struck by a few chips and stony splinters, but they’re only
scratches. Light floods the cave. I open my eyes, but can’t see very far through the dust cloud.

“Go!” Timas coughs, and we crawl on our knees until we can stand and run crouched over.

Scraps of flesh, bones, guts, and hair line the floor. Blood’s everywhere, making it slippery underfoot. My stomach rumbles.
It’s been a long time since breakfast. The wolfen part of me would happily tuck in and make short work of the offal.

We stumble out of the tunnel, Stephen and Shark in the lead, Meera and me in the middle, Timas and Prae bringing up the rear.
The sunlight is glorious after the darkness of the cave, but there’s no time to lap it up. A couple of werewolves are staggering
around, bloodstained, shaking their heads, dazed. No sign of any others. We’ve come through on the far side of the rocky outcrop,
out of sight of the multitudes.

“Come on,” Shark hisses. “Let’s —”

A growling sound from my left. I whirl and catch sight of a werewolf leaping through the air. It was hiding behind a rock.
Three others emerge from behind similarly sized rocks. The cunning beasts have set an ambush!

The first werewolf lands on Shark and knocks away his rifle. Shark snarls as the werewolf growls. He grabs its head and jerks
it left then right, trying to snap the beast’s neck before it chews his face off.

Stephen makes the crucial mistake of aiming at the werewolf attacking Shark instead of the other three behind it. Two of them
tackle him as he squeezes off his first shot. He yelps, then he’s gone, covered by the werewolves, their claws and fangs glinting
in the sunlight as they tear into him. He doesn’t even have time to scream.

The final werewolf bounds towards Meera, Prae, and me. Meera raises her rifle and the beast stops and glares at us — it clearly
knows what a gun is, the damage it can cause. It looks around. Stephen’s bullet struck the first werewolf just above its heart,
wounding but not killing. It’s still struggling with Shark and has driven him back into the tunnel. He’s managed to free his
knife and is slicing at the beast’s throat.

The werewolf who was coming after us chooses the easier option. It changes direction and dives after Shark, driving him farther
back. Meera fires at it. Misses. Starts after it, to help Shark.

“Get the hell out of here!” Shark bellows, smashing the first werewolf’s face with an elbow, ducking to grab the second by
its waist. He whirls it around and hurls it away. “Go!” he screams at us furiously as the werewolf regains its feet and leaps
at him again.

“Come on,” Timas says, tapping my shoulder.

“But —” Meera and I start to protest at the same time.

“Stay and die,” Timas says calmly, “or run and live. Your choice.” He sets off, Prae Athim just behind him.

Two of the werewolves are still snacking on Stephen. The other two are forcing Shark farther back. There are no more in sight,
apart from the befuddled few we first spotted. But it’s surely a matter of seconds rather than minutes before others come
running to investigate the explosion and howls.

I find myself moving before I consciously make the decision, my feet one step ahead of my brain. Shark’s our leader. He gave
us an order to run. We’d be fools if we ignored him, and Shark never tolerated fools gladly.

My last glimpse of the burly ex-soldier is of him wrestling with one werewolf, while keeping the other at bay with his knife,
backing up into the shadows of the tunnel, conceding ground reluctantly, stubbornly. Then the dust from the explosion enfolds
and obscures him and the werewolves, swallowing them whole.

With a cry of hate and fear, I turn, grab Meera, and flee after Timas and Prae. It seems hopeless without Shark. I was sure
he’d be the last of us to fall. Without him all is surely lost. But he went down fighting and the rest of us owe it to him
to give it our best shot. If we fail, we should at least die valiantly — like Shark.

The scent of the sea thickens in my nostrils as we run, drawing me towards it. There are howls behind us. The werewolves
have found our trail again. But we’ve worked up a solid lead. We have half a chance.

“This is it,” Timas pants as we struggle up a steep rise. “When we get to the top… it’s two hundred feet… to the edge… give
or take a few… yards.” He sneaks a quick look back. His brow creases and his large eyes narrow. “We won’t make it. They’ll
catch us.”

“We have to… try,” I cry, lungs bursting, legs aching.

“Someone has to lie down… covering fire,” he says. “I’ll stop at the… top and make my last… stand.”

“No!” Meera shouts. “We’ve lost too many already.”

“We’ll all die if I don’t,” Timas says simply.

“I’ll do it,” Prae gasps. She’s lagging a few paces behind the rest of us. “I’m the slowest. Besides, they’re
my
werewolves.”

“I’m a better shot,” Timas says. “This is my job. It makes more sense… for me… to stay.”

“What the hell,” Prae wheezes. “Let’s both do it… and die together.”

“As you wish.” We’re almost at the top. Timas slaps my back. “One last push and… you’re there. Don’t slow or look back. Run,
jump, swim. Meera…” She looks around. “I’m sorry I won’t… be able to claim… that kiss you promised.”

“Don’t worry,” Meera says. “I lied. I wouldn’t have kissed you anyway.” The tall man’s face drops and Meera groans. “I’m joking!”

Timas’s smile lights up his face again. With a cheerful wave he stops, turns, swings his rifle around, and opens fire. Glancing
over my shoulder, I see Prae halt, drop to her knees, take aim. The werewolves are damn close, dozens of them, the larger,
enhanced members to the front, leading the pack.

I mount the crest of the rise after Meera. The clifftop lies enticingly ahead of us, the two hundred feet away that Timas
calculated. My heart leaps in my chest. I catch up with Meera. We’re going to make it! I don’t care if we perish when we dive,
if the tide’s out, or if we’re driven under by vicious currents. At least we won’t die here on this cursed, savage island
of…

Werewolves. Streaming towards the edge of the cliff from our left and right. They’ve split into two groups and flanked us.
The smarter beasts must have guessed our plan. Rather than waste themselves on Timas and Prae, they branched around. As we
watch in horror, they dart ahead of us and form a barrier across the top of the cliff, two or three bodies deep. Some remain
to the sides, to ensure we don’t veer off.

We come to a stop. Meera points her gun at the creatures ahead of us, then does a quick headcount and lets it drop. She looks
at me and shrugs. We share a bitter smile. I’d like to hug her, but I haven’t the energy. With incredible weariness we half-crouch
and cross our arms on our knees. We’re panting like thirsty dogs, surrounded, trapped, waiting for the werewolves to close
in and brutally finish us off.

O
NE
of the werewolves howls commandingly. A couple to his left and right return the cry, along with a few on the flanks and behind
us. But when those howls die away, there’s silence, which is more unsettling than the noise. I’ve gotten used to the violent
baying of these beasts. Silence seems creepier.

Scrabbling noises behind us. I cock my head and look back. Timas and Prae scramble over the rise, guns raised but not firing.
They stop when they spot us and the ranks of werewolves beyond. Prae looks confused. She turns slowly in a circle, studying
the ring of twisted creatures, then shuffles towards us. Timas advances beside her, walking backwards, rifle still aimed.
Werewolves from the other side follow them as far as the top of the incline, then stop at a howl from the one near the cliff.

“This is amazing,” Prae says, joining Meera and me. “They have a group leader. Even those that haven’t been modified are obedient.
There are other dominant members too.” She points out a few of the larger werewolves. She’s excited by the discovery, momentarily
forgetting her fear. “I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it. I doubt even Antoine knows about this. His experiments
succeeded far beyond his aims. They’ve become a true pack.” There are tears of happiness in her eyes.

“What happens if we kill the leader?” I ask. “Will the rest split?”

“Of course not,” she snorts. “One of the other dominant members would replace him. Or her — maybe the females are superior.”
She sighs. “I wish I had time to conduct a thorough study.”

At a howl from the group leader — one of the largest werewolves, with dark grey hair — the pack starts to close around us.
A couple of the smaller werewolves dart forward, but are immediately dragged to the ground and beaten or killed by the dominant
members. The rest obediently hold the line.

“We’ll hit those at the center and try to squeeze through,” Timas says. He still hasn’t turned. “Concentrated fire. If we
can make them part a few yards, we stand a chance.”

“I’m game,” Meera says, straightening and picking up her discarded weapon.

“It’s hopeless,” Prae mutters, but aims her gun too.

Tell them to stop,
the Kah-Gash says abruptly.

“Stop!” I gasp. As they look at me questioningly, I hold up a hand for silence and concentrate on my mysterious inner voice.

If they fire now, there will be chaos and you’ll all die. These beasts have become an organized pack. You must use that against
them.

“How?” I ask aloud.

Fight them on their own terms.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The voice sighs contemptuously.
Do I have to do
everything
for you?
Before I can answer, it says curtly,
Unleash the wolf.

“Which one?” I frown.

The one inside you, fool!

“I don’t —”

We haven’t time to argue. I said you’d need to obey me without question. They’re closing in. Unleash the wolf. Give it free
reign. Trust me.

I hesitate. The werewolf within my skin is something I fear completely. I’ve gone to great efforts to keep it imprisoned.
In my nightmares it has often burst free and caused havoc, killing all around me. I’m determined not to let those dark dreams
become reality. The Kah-Gash understands that. It helped me push the werewolf down deep when I didn’t know how to do it myself.
So why is it telling me to release the beast now? Is this part of the Shadow’s plan? Will I play into the hands of the Demonata
if I —