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a man was creeping around a dump bin. While I couldn t make out his features, I recognized his form
and his stance, slightly stooped. The other zombie.
Below, Hull had noticed our attention wander. I motioned to Nick, telling him to go after the zombie and
leave this one to us. He slipped away. Zoe hesitated and glanced at me for instructions. When I didn t
give any, she followed Nick. The man watched them leave.
They they re still here, aren t they? he stammered. Those& things. Perhaps I should leave this to
you
Don t move, Clay said.
We could still meet in the park, the man said, gaze darting about for the clearest escape route. Shall
we say, dusk? At the north end?
Clay leapt just as Hull bolted. A second sooner, and he would have landed atop him. As it was, he hit
the ground about five feet behind the already running man. As I moved forward to jump down, the toe of
my sneaker snagged on an exposed nail. Any other time, that would have just meant an embarrassing
stumble and quick recovery as Clay sprinted away, leaving me to catch up. But the moment Clay saw my
shadow stutter, he stopped, turning fast, arms going up as if I was about to fall headfirst off the trailer.
I m fine! I said. Go!
He hesitated until he saw that I was indeed okay. Then he continued the pursuit, but slowly now, as if my
stumble had reminded him where his priorities lay. As the gap between Clay and Hull widened, I knew
that the only way we were going to get him is if I caught up and fast. So I concentrated on forgetting
the twenty-pound weight on my gut and the sweat streaming into my eyes.
As I sprinted forward, something jumped from behind a pile of lumber. Out of the corner of my eye, I
caught only a furry brown blur, and my brain screamed wolf. I backpedaled so fast I tripped and
thudded down on my backside, letting out a whimper as I felt the jolt slam through to my stomach. I
jerked forward into a semi-seated fetal position, protecting my stomach.
Something hit my shoulder, teeth catching in my shirt. A strangled snarl from Clay. A high-pitched squeal
of rage from whatever was clinging to my shoulder, then the thump of flesh hitting wood as it flew off. I
caught a whiff of my attacker then, and knew what it was even as I turned to see it lying dead beside a
pile of boards.
A rat? I said. In daylight?
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Elena? Clay s voice was oddly quiet, with that same strangled note I d heard in his snarl. Don t
move.Please, don t move.
I started to ask why? then realized speaking probably fell under the heading of moving. Instead, I
moved only my eyes, following Clay s gaze up to the pile of boards beside me. There, perched on top,
were four rats, all staring at me. Their mouths were open, lower incisors revealed. The fur on their
foreheads was flattened, their ears rotated forward. They let out short hisses and the occasional squeak.
Definitely not a display of welcome.
Clay s gaze slid to the other side of me, where I remembered seeing a pile of bricks. I couldn t look that
way without moving, but a crosswind brought more rat stink, and I knew I was surrounded by them.
I tried to relax. Reminded myself that as nasty as rats were, even a dozen of them were no match for
two werewolves. But the crosswind brought another smell that smell of disease we d picked up on the
rats in the warehouse.
Diseased rats. Out in the daytime, when rats normally seek shelter. Aggressively confronting, not just a
human, but a werewolf.
The rats started to chatter, teeth snapping and grinding, needlelike incisors flashing, eyes blazing with
rage, as if the disease had driven them mad and only the faintest shreds of sanity were keeping them from
jumping down and ripping into me. As they hissed and squeaked, I could see those sanity shreds
stretching thinner, ready to snap.
I didn t look at Clay, knowing if I did, the panic in my eyes might panichim . He was trying to think up a
way to get me out of there, and didn t need any distractions.
Inch toward me, Clay said, his voice just above a whisper. When you re close enough, I ll grab your
feet and pull you out of the way. Just move very, very slowly.
Before I could inch anywhere, I needed to get my hands on the ground. I hated uncovering my
stomach, but there was nothing else I could do to move forward. I started with my left hand, easing it
down toward the ground. The largest rat lunged for the edge of the wood pile.
I froze, heart thudding, knowing they d sense my fear and fighting to control it. The big rat paced along
the edge of the pile, as if struggling to resolve warring fight-or-flight impulses. Behind it, the others jostled
for position. The sharp scrabbling of claws on wood underscored their chatters and hisses as two more
rats joined them.
Clay? I whispered. It s not going to
I know.
If I jump up fast and
No.
I have to. They won t wait much longer. If you cover me
They ll attack before you get your hands down.
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Maybe if I can push off& I knew even as I said it that I couldn t. My stomach was too big for me to
jump from a sitting position without using my hands.
I ll My throat dried up and I swallowed before starting again. I ll just have to move fast. Put my
hands down and
Clay! Nick s loud whisper cut through the construction yard. There you He stopped at Clay s
shoulder. Holy shit.
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