Wolf Island (14 page)

“Do I just throw them?” I ask.

“I’d rather you simply held them for me,” he says, fiddling with those in his own hands. “If they’re not lobbed accurately,
they might explode in the wrong direction. That would be bad for us.”

“Timas!” Shark shouts. “We can’t hold much longer. They’re crowding in.”

“My plan wouldn’t work if they didn’t,” Timas says, then gently tosses one of his devices forward. It lands a yard ahead of
us, less than six feet from the rabid wave of werewolves. “Close your eyes,” he purrs, lobbing another bomb after the first,
then covering his face with an arm.

The first device explodes as I snap my eyes shut. The second explosion follows almost instantly. Screams replace howls. I
chance a look. It’s like a bulldozer has plowed through the werewolves ahead of us. Dozens are on the ground, dead or bleeding,
whimpering and confused. Those to the sides are barking with anger and fear, backing away from the carnage. Before they can
recover their wits, Timas lobs three more devices, one left, one right, one straight ahead.

“These are a bit more destructive than the first two,” he warns. “You might want to cover your ears also.”

His warning comes just in time. I’ve only barely jammed my hands over my ears when the devices explode. The vibrations shake
my brain around inside my skull. When I look again, the devastation is unbelievable, like a field of dead in a war movie.
Those not caught by the blasts are scrambling backwards, yowling with pain, ears and noses bleeding. Werewolves have much
sharper senses than humans. This must be sheer agony for those not killed.

Timas turns neatly and takes another device from me. Looking back, I see that the creatures on the other side of the wall
have come to an uncertain halt. Several are rubbing at their ears and whining. Nowhere near as disorganized as those who bore
the brunt of the explosions, but shaken all the same.

When Timas lobs the bomb at them and it explodes, the surviving werewolves bolt like a pack of panic-stricken dogs. Timas
tips an imaginary hat to them, twirls like a ballerina, grabs another device from me, and throws it at those on the compound
side. The werewolves might not be the brightest creatures in the world, but they’ve seen enough to know that when the tall
red-headed guy throws something, it means trouble. Roaring abominably, they break and flee, even the enhanced beasts.

We don’t waste time congratulating Timas, just bolt for the freedom of the island beyond the wall, determined to take full
advantage of the lull, certain it won’t last long. Timas is the only one who doesn’t run immediately. He remains behind, setting
more devices in the ground between the gap in the wall.

Moments later he catches up with us and retrieves the bombs that I’ve been holding. His backpack looks pretty flat now, but
he doesn’t seem worried. He grins at me as he pockets a couple of the explosives. “That was the first practical experience
I’ve had of controlled detonations,” he says.

I gape at him. “You’d never used a bomb before?”

“No. I’d read about them, but this was the first chance I had to put my knowledge to the test.” He looks back and frowns at
the hole in the wall, the cloud of dust in the air, the dismembered bodies of the butchered werewolves. “What do you think?
Eight out of ten, or am I being too generous?”

“Shut up, you genius of an idiot,” I laugh. “And run!”

We race to the top of a small incline, Timas leading the way. We pause to catch our breath and gather our wits. I can already
see a few werewolves sniffing around the gap in the wall. As they creep through, one steps on a landmine and sets it off.
The others scatter at top speed.

I feel like cheering, but I don’t want to tempt fate. Besides, it won’t take them long to try one of the other, unmined gaps.
Once they discover a safe way out of the compound, they’ll pursue us again, only this time they’ll be even more determined
to hunt us down, to make us pay.

Timas sets another couple of devices at the top of the little hill, covering them with loose earth, like someone planting
seeds.

“What else do you have in there?” Shark asks, nodding at the backpack.

“Not much,” Timas sighs. “I have a few mines in my pockets and some grenades in case we run into resistance. As for the rest…
enough to bring down the cave entrance. There won’t be much left over.”

“Did anybody else notice the larger breeds?” Prae pants. “At the rear?”

“Yes,” I answer softly, but I’m the only one.

“Horwitzer’s work,” she growls. “They’re even deadlier than the others. They hung back where it was safe, waiting for the
ideal moment to strike. If there are more of those, or if they catch up with us before we make it to the cave…” She shakes
her head.

“If Timas is right, there’s a couple of hundred of them in total,” I tell her.

Prae’s face goes ashen.

“None of that,” Shark snarls, snapping his scorched fingers in front of her eyes. “We won’t have pessimism. By any account
we should be dead already. But we’re not. Having come through that, we can survive anything. If you disagree, keep it to yourself.”

Prae chuckles weakly, then pushes to her feet and looks over the island. I stand and stare too. We can’t see anything except
grassland, which gives way to bushes and trees. But I can hear the howls of werewolves. They’re getting closer.

“Shark,” I say nervously.

“I know.” He stretches, then groans. “My back’s killing me. Never had trouble before. I might have to think about retiring
after this one.”

We all laugh. It’s the free and edgy laughter of people who’ve come through hell and lived to tell the tale, but have to face
the journey at least one more time.

Shark clicks his tongue and everyone rises. Liam and Stephen are covered in blood, filth, and scraps of hairy flesh. Meera
hasn’t returned Timas’s gun, but is cradling it like a baby. Prae’s trembling, but holding herself together. Only Timas looks
unconcerned, as if we’re on a leisurely stroll. The rest of us are beaten and worn.

But we’re alive. And that gives me hope. We might make it off this island yet, damn the odds. If we do, it’ll rank as one
of the greatest escapes ever, up there with Beranabus’s finest death-defying shimmies. I almost want to survive just to prove
to the magician that he’s not the only cat with nine lives.

If
he’s still alive. Thinking about him reminds me of Juni’s taunt, that Dervish, Bec, and Beranabus have been set upon by the
Shadow. Are they in an even worse spot than us? Has Beranabus been catapulted into the afterlife ahead of me, along with Bec
and my uncle?

Before I can dwell on that grim possibility, Shark barks a command. As we sprint down the opposite side of the incline, all
other fears and thoughts are forgotten. Running… werewolves… the cave. There’s no room inside my head for anything else.

T
HE
howls intensify as we run, coming from all directions, a cacophony of wolfen roars tightening around us like a net. But we
don’t spot another werewolf until, cutting our way through a small copse, one leaps from a tree without warning and drags
Shark to the ground. The pair roll away from us, and though the soldiers in our group swiftly train their weapons on the beast,
I’m sure they’re too late. I resign myself to the loss of our leader.

But Shark isn’t ready for the grave just yet. Staggering to his feet, he shoulders the howling werewolf away. The others can’t
shoot because he’s in their way, and Shark lost his gun in the attack.

“Down!” Stephen yells, desperate to put a bullet through the werewolf’s head.

Shark has other ideas. Jerking a knife from his belt, he leaps on the savage beast and drives the blade into its stomach,
chewing on its left ear for extra impact. The werewolf screams and claws at Shark’s back, ripping his shirt and much of his
flesh to shreds. But Shark jabs at it a second time and a third, and its hands drop away. Moments later he shrugs it off and
hobbles free.

“Are you OK?” Meera asks as he rejoins us, casting a worried look at his injuries.

“I’ve cut myself worse shaving,” Shark grunts. He retrieves his rifle and pushes up beside Timas, ignoring the blood pooling
around the waistband of his pants.

As we clear the copse, we spot an army of werewolves surging towards us from our far left. The beasts at the front look like
they’re part of the enhanced breed. We can also hear crashing and snapping sounds in the trees behind us — the pack from the
compound has almost caught up.

“There!” Timas shouts, swiveling right. I can’t see anything except a lot of rocks jutting out of the ground, but he seems
sure of himself. As we hurl ourselves after Timas, I pray desperately that his map-reading skills were as accurate as he led
us to believe.

I don’t look back as we run, but I hear the werewolves closing in. The creatures who’ve been chasing us from the compound
have merged with those arriving fresh on the scene to create a chorus of howls and screeches that could drown out the sound
of a nuclear detonation. I feel hot breath on the back of my neck. I hope it’s just my imagination.

Timas reaches a rock, grabs it with his left hand, and pivots, lobbing a bomb over our heads as he swings out of sight. The
explosion and screams of the werewolves are music to my ears. But as I come in line with the rock and duck around it, I catch
sight of the beasts, no more than several yards behind, and my glee shrivels up like the petals of a flower at the heart of
a furnace.

There’s no sign of Timas. For a horrified second I think he’s been snatched by a werewolf. But then I see his bony arm and
narrow fingers jerk out of a hole, beckoning us on.

Shark is next to make it. He dives in, and Timas’s arm disappears. The rest of us come abreast of what looks like just a hole
in the rock, fewer than three feet high. But as I look closer I see that the floor is lower than the ground out here, so you
can stand inside. It’s more of a tunnel than an actual cave, but I’m not going to complain about that.

Shark pops up like a jack-in-the-box. He aims over our heads and fires at the werewolves. There’s a grunt three or four inches
behind my ear and I realize they’re even closer than I feared.

Screaming madly, I wrap an arm around Meera’s waist and hurl her into the hole, like a basketball player making a slam dunk.
She smashes against one of the walls inside the entrance and cries out with pain. But at least she’s out of the reach of the
werewolves.

Prae ducks in after Meera and scurries forward. I almost collide with Stephen as we both try to push in at the same time.
We pause and I flash on a ridiculous image of us standing here, politely muttering, “No, after
you,
” until we’re carved up and consumed. But then Stephen slaps my back and I gratefully dive in ahead of him.

Meera and Prae have shuffled deeper into the cave. Timas is hooking up a series of devices to the walls around the entrance.
For once he isn’t grinning. By his expression, you might even think he was slightly perturbed.

Shark is still standing half out of the cave, roaring as he empties his cartridge into the hordes of werewolves. Stephen falls
into the cave backwards, firing as he topples. He takes out a werewolf that was just about to snap Shark’s head off.

“Back!” Timas yells.

Shark immediately withdraws. Liam, who was covering the rest of us from outside, dives into the hole after him. But he comes
to a stop mid-air, arms outstretched, legs caught. He screams. Shark curses and grabs for Liam’s hands. He catches them and
tugs hard. Liam screams again.

“Hold on!” Stephen shouts, wriggling forward, firing around Shark and Liam.

Liam jerks forward a few inches. It looks like Shark has him, but then he’s wrenched out of the cave. For a brief moment I’m
dazzled by sunlight. Then the hole fills with the heads and upper torsos of dozens of werewolves. They snap and lash at each
other, fighting to be first in.

Before the werewolves can sort themselves out and slither into the cave, Timas yells, “Everybody down!” I catch sight of him
pushing a button on a tiny detonator as I leap for safety. Then there’s the mother of all explosions and the roof around the
entrance comes crashing down, muting the howls of the werewolves, plunging us into darkness, entombing us beneath the ground.