Primeval (Werewolf Apocalypse Book 2) (42 page)

Burns asked Hemmer, “Hey, Tommy, you got a cigar up there?”

Hemmer handed one back to him and said, “Grabbed a couple boxes. You know, just in case.”

Burns lit the cigar and inhaled deeply. He turned to Nicole and said, “You realize we’re AWOL. The Army might come looking for us.”

“Let them look,” she said. “We went AWOL when we entered Manhattan.”

“You saying the laws don’t apply anymore?” Michael asked.

Christian said, “We saw the military in Brooklyn. They were packing everything in and getting the hell out of Dodge. They were running pretty damn fast. Of course, there were a couple thousand werewolves in the streets by that point.”

“They couldn’t isolate the disease,” Cathy said. “It seemed pretty desperate.”

“There’ve been coded messages on the airwaves,” Hemmer said. “They aren’t flying around the city any longer, not bothering with piss-ant problems like us.”

“Martha’s Vineyard, huh?” Burns asked.

“Good a place as any, I guess,” Nicole answered.

Sandy nodded. “At least we’ll be safe there.”

“All right, then,” Hemmer said.

The helicopter flew through the night, farther and farther away from the burning, infected city. They almost didn’t see the jet that shot over them, hurtling toward New York.

“Aw Christ,” Burns shouted. “Everyone close and cover your eyes. Look away.”

Behind closed eyelids, they could still see the flash that lit up the darkness like daylight on the island of Manhattan.

When it finally grew darker, a wind buffeted their helicopter, but Hemmer maintained control.

“We far enough away?” Burns asked.

“Just barely,” the pilot answered. “We might all have some burns.”

“Oh my God,” Cathy Wright said, looking behind them. She clutched at her son, crying into his shoulder.

Burns tried to look away, but couldn’t.

Sandy put her head in her hands, and Nicole wrapped herself protectively around the sobbing woman.

Michael swallowed hard, couldn’t take his eyes from the terrible scene. He forced himself to look away eventually.

Behind them, above the island of Manhattan, the mushroom cloud rose into the night like a giant fist.

Thanks to Matt Schwartz and Chrissy Brunner for helping me in my New York City research. You guys had to answer some crazy questions, and did so with knowledge and grace.

The author would like to admit to taking a few liberties with the geography of the great city of New York in the process of writing this novel. Sometimes, the truth gets sacrificed to the action scene muse.

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Primeval
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