The Tribes, Chapter 28

“We’ve been in town for two days and haven’t made a single attack,” Tyler groused to the group of Werewolves in general and nobody in particular. “So what’re we waiting for?”

No one answered Tyler. Most either squatted on the floor or curled up to grab a few extra minutes of sleep before darkness fell and they began their nocturnal prowling again. A couple of Werewolves busied themselves with stretching exercises to work the kinks from their muscles.

“I mean, what fucking good is climbing to the rooftops and howling?” Tyler grumbled. “There’s a whole city full of potential victims – what the fuck are we waiting for?”

“You’re waiting for me to give the word to move,” Prometheus said softly from the window by the fire escape. Tyler spun on his heel, gulped, and stared in surprise at the Werewolf leader’s sudden appearance. Prometheus was almost totally hidden by the deep shadows in that corner of the room. He advanced slowly from the darkness, appearing to materialize from the shadows. “Sure there are lots of strays out there that we could take,” he said closing in on Tyler and circling around the Werewolf. “A body count of nobodies doesn’t do us any good – we have to make sure that our victims are noticed.”

Prometheus studied the black leather gloves that Gull had presented him with before they started the mission. Gull had ordered the Brotherhood’s blacksmith to craft the gloves especially for the Werewolf leader. The gloves extended halfway up Prometheus’ forearms and buckled tightly onto his arms. The most significant feature of the gloves, however, were fingers which terminated in razor sharp steel claws. Prometheus looked up at Tyler and stretched his clawed index finger out to tap the other werewolf’s cheek.

“Do you know which clubs are the most popular here in The City?” Prometheus asked, his voice dropping into a seductive whisper. “Do you know the hours of operations for the clubs? What about the best approach and escape routes from the hunting grounds around the clubs? Do you know the type and quality of City Patrols and club security?”

“Uh, no,” Tyler admitted.

Prometheus cocked his head in mock surprise. “No? No?” he repeated. “You don’t know the answers to any of those questions?” He pressed his index finger harder against Tyler’s cheek making a drop of blood appear from where the tip of the steel claw had broken the skin. “In case you’ve forgotten, our primary mission here is to create an atmosphere of terror for our Leader,” Prometheus said drawing his finger down over Tyler’s cheekbone about an inch, “not get fucking captured and probably killed by a fucking mob!”

Tyler gasped at the pain that flared in his cheek as Prometheus sliced his face open. “Ahhh … shit! Um, no … I didn’t know any of that stuff,” Tyler gasped.

“No, I thought not,” Prometheus said, examining the claw tip with interest. He carefully licked Tyler’s blood from the claw and smiled as he smacked his lips. “Salty,” he said. The Werewolf leader pointed at the slice had had made in Tyler’s cheek. “That’s gonna leave a scar, you know.”

Tyler held a hand to his cheek and nervously watched Prometheus stroll casually across the room and crouch by the meager larder of canned food the Werewolves had gathered. Tyler relaxed only when Prometheus had selected a can of corned beef hash and began wolfing the food down in satisfaction.

Nearly an hour after Prometheus returned, Dexter and Homer, the two other Werewolves who had been on patrol since the team arrived in The City returned. Prometheus, who had been squatting on his haunches with his head resting on his knees, raised his head and looked questioningly at the two.

“The Inferno Club is one of the hottest places in The City,” Dexter said. “They have food, drink, gambling, entertainment, and lots more. Place opens at noon, but not much goes on until just before dark. That’s when the crowds start to gather. About dusk the street performers start in and that helps draw more of a crowd.”

“Good, good – what more?” Prometheus asked.

“The club is heavily guarded,” Dexter said. “I been watching it the last two nights like you said – I can’t be real sure about how many guards are on the inside, but outside there’s never less than twenty guys. They’re armed with metal baseball bats.”

“Uh huh,” Prometheus grunted and then waited.

“There’s lots of side streets and alleys around the club – all of them dark and perfect for hunting,” Dexter said. “There’s even a couple places where a team could pull their prey, take their time working him over, and still have the prey found pretty quickly.”

“Those guards – do they know their business?” One of the other Werewolves wanted to know.

Dexter nodded his head. “Oh yeah – they know their business pretty good. I’ve seen ‘em take out a couple of troublemakers. They’re slick, that’s for sure if that’s what’s worrying you.”

The other Werewolf grinned broadly. “That’s not a worry – them knowing their stuff just makes a strike right under their noses more exciting.”

“Homer,” Prometheus called out, “what’s your report?”

“I checked out two other clubs,” Homer said. “They’re about a mile or so away from the Inferno – not nearly as busy, but busy enough to provide ample opportunities for good hunting.” Homer looked around in satisfaction. “The club security isn’t quite as good or as strong as at the Inferno.”

“Thank you,” Prometheus said quietly. He swiveled his head to regard Tyler. “Now do you understand the reason for waiting?”

“Yeah, yeah … I do,” Tyler grudgingly admitted with his hand still clapped to his wounded cheek.

“Good … because tomorrow we start our hunt, I want one last night of checking the killing grounds,” Prometheus announced. He looked around at the nine other Werewolves. “We break down into three attack teams. Each team is required to take three victims each – two kills and one victim maimed, but left alive. I don’t care where you take your prey, but I want the bodies found very publicly.” He gave each Werewolf a long hard look before slowly nodding.

*****

Keith sulked and watched as Sasha carefully packed a knapsack with rations, first aid equipment, and some minimal personal supplies. He didn’t like the idea of his life partner leaving the ship on an exploration mission. Especially since he wasn’t going to be accompanying Sasha and the others in the party.

“It’s no good sulking,” Sasha said with a shake of his head. “I’d love to have you come along, but you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing – it’s a Tribe rule,” Sasha explained. “People who are partnered up can never go together on the same missions. That’s in case something happens…”

“If something bad is going to happen, I’d rather be with you,” Keith said.

“I know and I feel the same way about it,” Sasha said. “But, who would help to look after you while you were recuperating? Who’d sit by your side holding your hand and kissing your forehead?” Sasha sat next to his lover and stroked Keith’s soft hair, pulling him close in a tight embrace. “And, in case you’ve forgotten, you’ve got to stay here to watch Jordy. He still has some problems with bad dreams and needs someone near him at night. And, in case you haven’t noticed it, Jordy isn’t too comfortable with most people. He’s taken a special liking to you.”

“Jordan can stay and I can go with the group,” Keith said hopefully.

“Nice try,” Sasha grinned. “But, you’d still be stuck with the Tribe’s rule about life partners. Besides, we’re headed back towards Jordan’s old stomping grounds. He knows the area, so he has to come with the group. Look, if it makes you feel any better, Jack isn’t going with us and I’m pretty sure he’s none too fond of that idea.”

“Can’t say that I blame him,” Keith muttered.

“You’re taking this much calmer than I’d expected,” Bray said as he rolled up a spare pair of jeans and stuffed them into his field pack. He examined the canvas bag – it had been a long time since he’d felt the strap across his chest. He’d been wearing the bag slung across his body the day he’d first met Jack – the day Jack had saved his life for the first time.

“It’s not like I have much choice,” Jack said with a shrug. “I don’t like the idea of you going off – and especially going off on foot…”

“That’s only until we get out of The City,” Bray said. “If what those two new traders who came in last week said is true, there’s a car lot to the east of The City with a couple of Hummers sitting there as pretty as the day they were delivered.” Bray fixed Jack with his most serious stare. “We could certainly use a couple of heavy duty vehicles like them in our motor pool – you know that.”

“Okay, you have a point there,” Jack admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t drive out there.”

“We could, but the route we’re taking is pretty impassable – there’s lots of traffic jams and rubble in the streets,” Bray explained. “Everyone who’s been out that way has remarked on that … plus, there’s never been any reports of Tribe activity in that area. That’s a bit strange, don’t you think?”

Jack chewed on his bottom lip before he answered. “Yeah … yeah, that is unusual,” Jack agreed. “But, I suppose there could be good reasons … maybe there were riots just before or right after everything went to hell. We can talk about that at the briefing before you guys leave, though.”

“Briefing?”

“Yes – a briefing,” Jack replied firmly. “If you’re going to do this, then there are some things you and your party need to be looking for and some precautions you might need to take.”

“And just when is this briefing?”

For the first time that day Jack grinned as he lunged forward grabbed Bray and pulled him down onto the bed. Jack straddled Bray’s chest and brushed the long hair from his lover’s face. “The briefing is after I get through with you,” he said, his voice taking on a husky tone and he leaned down and covered Bray’s mouth with his own.

Afterwards – after the sex and a shower, Bray slowly shook his head in wonder. Jack had really meant it when he said that the briefing would be after Jack was through with him. Jack had taken the lead in their lovemaking and even though he had been tender and loving, he had clearly dominated their sex.

“That was intense,” Bray said, running his fingers through his damp hair.

“It was supposed to be,” Jack said simply as he stripped and headed to the bathroom for his shower. “I want you to remember what you won’t be getting on the road and what you’ve got waiting for you when you get back.” He gave Bray a seductive wink before disappearing into the bathroom.

Bray looked from the towel in his hand to the bathroom door and back. He really did need to get dressed so he could get to dinner, get through the briefing, and get to bed early. Licking his lips, Bray stared at the bathroom door.

“Oh, to hell with it,” he sighed as he dropped the damp towel and started pulling his boxer-briefs off. Moments later he was pulling the frosted glass Art Deco shower door open and joining his lover in the shower.

During their second round of sex, Jack was tender, gentle, and less demanding than he had been earlier – but he still took the lead in their sex. As soon as Bray was in the shower, Jack guided him under the spray of water and immediately began exploring every inch of his lover’s body with his gentle fingertips and mouth. It took nearly fifteen minutes for Jack to finish working his way down Bray’s torso and sink to his knees where he began slowly licking Bray’s erect cock. Jack drew his tongue along the underside of Bray’s penis from the base all the way to the purple mushroom head. While he was licking Bray’s dick, his nimble hands were massaging Bray’s testicles and scrotum. Jack’s attentions sent shivers of delight through Bray’s body.

Entering the dining room, Bray noticed Sasha looking in his direction. When Bray glanced in his direction, Sasha gave a knowing wink and nod. The former minstrel laughed when Bray’s face colored deeply and he quickly turned his head in the other direction. Sasha loved how easy it was for him to get a rise out of Bray. Bray and Jack were open in their relationship and everyone knew that they were lovers. But, both of them – and especially Bray – could be easily embarrassed by the mere acknowledgement that they had physical relations.

Sasha leaned back in his chair and thought back to the pre-Virus days and the society’s attitude towards homosexuality. Most people pretended that they accepted gays and supported gay rights – but Sasha knew that that wasn’t entirely true. Laws making gay bashing a hate crime were never universally passed. There were hate-mongers – some were even ministers, or at least pretended that they were – who preached that all gays would burn in Hell for Eternity. And then, the Virus had come and suddenly who loved whom didn’t seem to matter as much anymore. Sasha realized that a lot of the old prejudices seemed to have died along with most of humanity.

Thinking back to the relocation camps and even in the earliest of the post-Virus days, Sasha couldn’t remember a single incident of racial prejudice either. He figured that in the Bad Times right after everything fell apart there weren’t many people who wanted to be alone. He remembered his own feelings – even though he had always preferred solitude and his own company – there were times that Sasha was desperate to have the actual physical company of another person. It never seemed to matter what their skin color, religion, gender, sexual preference, or anything else was. The only important thing was that there was another living, breathing person in your company for a little while. That had been during the very first days right between The End and the Bad Times.

Sasha wasn’t sure if that in-between period lasted a few weeks or a few months – a lot of that time was blurred like his mind refused to accept the enormity of what had happened. But, Sasha did clearly remember the need for human company and often, physical contact was a driving force for people in those early days. It wasn’t long before the first fledgling Tribes began to form and suspicion of strangers returned to the world. But, somehow the old prejudices based on color, gender, religion, and even sexual preference didn’t return.

Sasha turned his attention to the apple cobbler Selene had made and forgot all about the things he had been musing over – he could think about things anytime, but he didn’t know how long it would be before he had another of Selene’s really excellent cobblers.

After dinner Sasha, Peter, Bray, Jordan, and Brandon gathered in the Captain’s Office behind the Bridge. They were surprised to find Ryan, Dal, Selene, and Amber already in the room – all they would say was that Jack had asked them to be present for the briefing. Jack entered, a heavy canvas pack slung over his shoulder. Bray was about to protest when Jack held up a hand, saying, “Relax, I’m not about to force myself on the mission.”

“So what’s with the bag?” Bray asked.

“Just a few extra things for you to carry,” Jack grinned as he began unpacking the bag. He held up an oversized walkie-talkie. “First, we have a handheld CB radio – it’s more powerful than the smaller two-way radios we’ve carried in the past. We should be able to pick your transmissions up from almost anyplace you go. The ship always has someone manning the radio – so besides your regular transmissions, in case of emergency we’ll be able to stay in contact.”

“How long are the batteries good for?” Brandon asked.

“Not something you have to worry about,” Jack smiled. He pulled extra batteries from the pack, and then he produced a black box about twice the size of the handheld CB radios. “This is a solar battery charger – it will keep the batteries charged and, can be connected directly to one of the radios and provide power in a pinch.”

“So if something bad happens, we radio back to the ship and then what?” Peter asked.

“Then, you stay on the radio giving directions on how to find you,” Ryan said, standing up. “Just get us in the right neighborhood and then at night send up one of these flares.” Jack pulled out flares from the bulky canvas bag. “In the daytime, send up a red parachute flare and then pop the pin on one of the colored smoke grenades – once we see the colored smoke, we can follow it right back to where you are.”

“Which brings us to the topic of First Aid kits,” Jack said producing one from his pack. “Each of you will have one of these with you.” Jack looked back to Dal. “Dal, if you’d do the honors?”

“We’ve learned from our past experiences,” Dal said, “and while I hope these kits never need to be used, I think they’ll be a lot better than the old ones.”

“What’s the big difference?” Sasha wanted to know.

“Besides extra bandages, the big difference is in the drugs,” Dal said proudly. “While rummaging around in a medical warehouse for supplies for the ship’s hospital, Jack and I found these autoinjectors.”

“And an autoinjector is what exactly?” Bray asked, surprised that Jack hadn’t mentioned them to him.

“Pretty much exactly what the name says,” Dal explained. “These things were designed originally for the military. There’s a pre-measured dose of medicine in these things. All you have to do is pop the top off like this and hold it in your fist like this,” Dal held the autoinjector up for everyone to see. “Then, you just kind of punch yourself – or someone else in the thigh like this.” Dal brought his fist down and punched his thigh through his jeans. “Yes, you can inject straight through your clothes. Oh, and this one doesn’t have the needle in it – it’s just for demo purposes.”

“So how do you know that they work?” Jordan asked.

“Because I personally tried them out,” Jack said, looking at him evenly. “They hurt, but they work.” Jack avoided looking at Bray who was glaring at the genius as if he would strangle him on the spot. Bray turned his glare on Dal, as well – he was sure the Indian didn’t resist the idea of testing the autoinjecting syringes.

“Now, these autoinjectors were originally designed for the military, which means that they were originally olive drab,” Dal explained. “As you can see we’ve made a few modifications – like the color. Each type of injector has been painted a bright color…”

“Bright my ass,” Jordan chuckled. “Those neon colors hurt my eyes.”

“That’s exactly the reaction we want,” Dal laughed. “They’re easy to see, and all you have to do it match the color of the syringe to the chart on the inside of the lid. For instance, the bright yellow is morphine. The chart will tell you the average safe dose and how often they can be given. This electric pink syringe is Novocain, and so on and so on. What you’ll be carrying is listed on the chart along with brief – very brief instructions you’ll need in the field.”

After Dal went over the uses for everything in the First Aid kit, he took his seat and motioned for Jack to continue. Jack turned on an overhead projector and projected a map of the area through which the party would be moving.

“I think quite a few of us have been through the outskirts of this sector,” Jack said. “As far as we can tell, it’s uninhabited.”

Peter approached the screen and pointed to an intersection about six blocks into the zone. “I’ve been about to here,” he said. “It’s not just uninhabited, it’s pretty much devoid of any kind of life. Everyplace I’ve ever been there’s at least the rats, maybe a few cats or even dogs. I swear that I didn’t come across any kind of life.”

“What’s it like that far in?” Brandon asked.

“Streets are clogged with stalled and burned out cars,” Peter said. “Lots of the buildings are burned and it seemed like a couple had been blown up.”

“So, try to look around and see if you can find any gang or better yet – Tribe tagging,” Jack said. “No need to make contact, in fact, it might be better if you didn’t make contact on this trip.” No one argued and no one needed Jack’s logic explained. If there were Tribes in that sector, they’d certainly gone to great lengths to avoid being seen so far and it was a smart idea not to push the issue until they had a better idea of the area.

Amber suddenly stood up. “And that brings us to the end of this briefing,” she said. “The Hummers – if they’re where they’re supposed to be and they can be started, then continue on with your scouting mission back to Hopkins where Jordan and Brandon came from. But, if they’re not – you bring your asses right back to the Queen Mary.”

“And you better listen to her,” Ryan said. “Otherwise, I’ll be coming out there in one of the pickups and personally haul your asses back here. I might have to go the long way around, but I’ll still be able to catch up with you.”

Early the next morning, Jack and Keith stood side by side as they watched their lovers climb into the back of the pickup truck and leave the parking lot. It had been agreed that Ryan would drive them to the where the traffic jams started. Riding that far would save the group some time, and give them a little more time to explore that unknown sector. Sharing the farewells didn’t do anything to stop the tears from rolling down Keith’s face. Jack managed to keep from crying, but he did have to wipe his eyes more than usual as the truck disappeared.

*****

The sun had gone down hours earlier when Prometheus and his Werewolves left their lair and began working their way across their hunting grounds. Like their mythical counterparts, the Werewolves blended into the deep shadows and became almost invisible. Tyler had been surprised when Prometheus had put him in charge of one of the hunting parties. He was determined to make up for his earlier gaffe and prove that he could be an effective team leader. He led his team towards the Inferno Club. A couple of blocks from the square where the club was located, Tyler left the shadows of the streets and moved upwards to the rooftops.

“Shouldn’t we get closer to the square?” One of his team, a skinny fellow named Denton asked.

“No,” Tyler shook his head. “We want to be close, but not right on top of them.”

Denton understood immediately. “Gotcha – we need room to work without being disturbed right away.”

Denton and the third member of the team, joined Tyler in watching the approaches to the main road leading to the club. About fifteen minutes into their vigil, they heard a howl coming clearly through the night. Even though they were used to the sound and would be howling themselves soon enough, they all admitted that the sound was kind of creepy. Already they had passed up nearly a dozen-and-a-half potential victims. Their hunting grounds were good.

Bumper, the third member of the team didn’t need to be told why they had passed up most of the potential prey so far – about six of them had clearly been strays. It wasn’t likely anyone would really take notice of their loss. Bumper became aware that Tyler had suddenly stiffened. Looking over the parapet in the direction of Tyler’s gaze, Bumper began to smile to himself. About a block away and moving slowly in their direction was a group of three people. Even from where the Werewolves were waiting, it was possible to tell that these three were kind of well placed in some Tribe.

“Those three,” Tyler said softly. “We’re taking all three of them.”

“Isn’t that a bit daring?” Denton asked, his mouth turning up at the corners in anticipation.

“Makes it more exciting, doesn’t it?” Tyler asked. Bumper couldn’t help noticing that Tyler was actually drooling with anticipation. Tyler peered over the roof parapet again. He was able to tell that the one leading the group was wearing an awning-striped vest and had slicked back black hair. He pointed at the individual. “He’s mine – he the one to survive the night. The other two belong to you two,” he looked at his team. “Any problems with that?”

“Yeah, I got a problem,” Bumper grinned. “That means there’s only one victim for the each of us. We’ll hardly work up a sweat.”

The three Werewolves hurried down the stairs and out a side door into a pitch-black alley. Bumper and Denton moved to take up positions by the mouth of the alley. Tyler slipped back into the building, made his way to the front of the building and carefully melted into the shadows on the street, taking up a position where he could see when his teammates had made their move. He watched as Denton and Bumper slipped out of the alley and silently took up positions behind their prey. Each Werewolf had a different tactic of attack. Bumper went for the fast kill, while Denton went for a takedown first.

Bumper moved in quickly and grabbed his prey by the shoulder and head, giving the victim’s head a fast twist back and to the side while bringing his head down for a bite to the throat. From his hiding place, Tyler could hear the crunch of the victim’s neck bones. He leapt from his hiding place to confront his prey as Denton clamped a strong hand over his victim’s mouth and slashed across the back of his right knee. Tyler knew that Denton had used a surgical post mortem knife to sever the tendons in his victim’s leg.

“Boo!” Tyler exclaimed as he leapt in front of his victim and grabbed him by the throat. Before the victim had a chance to respond to the painted-faced apparition that had just grabbed him by the throat, Tyler’s knee jerked upward into the victim’s groin. Tyler pistoned his knee upward again and again, to cause the maximum pain possible to his prey.

Emcee of the Inferno Club was in no hurry to get to the club – he was enjoying the company of Terry and Vern, two of the pit bosses at the club. The three joked and teased each other, totally unconcerned about club business for once. They had no worries about walking along the dark streets – only a total moron would even consider risking Zoot’s wrath by attacking three important members of his Tribe. Everyone in The City knew that Zoot would exact a terrible, horribly painful, and totally humiliating public revenge on anyone who messed with three of his top moneymakers at the club. Emcee was slightly ahead of his friends – he tended to walk faster by nature. As a result, Emcee found that he often had to turn around and sometimes even walk backwards to see his companions as they talked.

Emcee was just about to twist around to respond to something that Vern has said when he heard a slight scuffle of feet. Before he could complete the turn, however, someone leapt from the doorway of the building to Emcee’s left. The stranger’s sudden appearance was startling, but before Emcee could call out for help, he felt a tight pressure around his throat, and then…

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Emcee’s groin seemed to explode in pain and all conscious thought was driven from his mind as his mind seemed to disconnect from reality – images flashed before his eyes in a disjointed kaleidoscopic way. Sounds had a hard time reaching the processing center of his brain in any kind of recognizable form – either the sounds echoed, or they seemed to come from long distances away, or they thundered in his ears. Eventually, his senses settled down and he became aware of his surroundings and of the fact that he was in incredible pain. The black, red, and orange striped face of his abductor filled his field of vision.

“You guys are making a big mistake,” Emcee panted. “Call it quits right now and I’ll talk to Zoot, I can get him to go easy…”

“Shut it,” Tyler snarled. “We don’t know who the fuck Zoot is, and wouldn’t be afraid of his ass even it we did.”

“Look, Zoot will kill…”

Tyler grabbed Emcee’s throat and squeezed it hard, cutting off his prisoner’s words as he leaned close and seductively licked his prey’s face. “I said for you to shut it,” Tyler growled softly. He turned his attention to the button nipples on Emcee’s chest. “It’s time you learned that there are things worse than death.”

“What’d you do to my clothes?” Emcee demanded as he realized for the first time that he was totally naked. And then, his captor’s threat sank into his confused brain. “Whatta ya mean – worse than death?”

Tyler gave Emcee his best feral grin and moved to one side to let Emcee see his two companions. Emcee tried to scream, but his stomach protested what he saw in the room and he began to vomit over and over as the Werewolves turned their full attention to him.

Prometheus heard the success howls come from different sides of the sector. He was hunting alone – the way he preferred it. He already had three kills, but was slightly disappointed that each had been easy – too damned easy to really give him a sense of thrill at the hunt. The sight and smell of fear that washed off his prey was almost intoxicating, but that fear didn’t quite light a fire of excitement in his belly. Each of his three victims had been too paralyzed with fear to scream or even attempt to run when Prometheus had appeared in front of them. In fact, all three had peed in their pants when Prometheus had suddenly appeared in front of them. The third one had shit himself, as well. In the end, he had to be content with using his new claws to rip out their throats, disfigure their faces, and disembowel his first three victims.

Prometheus’ three easy kills left him feeling unfulfilled and in need of a challenge. He decided to continue his hunt and find a prey worthy of stalking and leaving maimed. Prometheus moved to the rooftops and began searching for the right prey. It took nearly three hours before spotted a likely choice – a tall, muscular young man who wore distinctive Tribal face paintings. The Werewolf moved along the rooftops as he trailed his potential prey. Prometheus was watched his prey while scanning the area for an appropriate killing ground. Finally satisfied with his choice, Prometheus gave a low guttural growl that carried down to the street.

Moving quickly and quietly, Prometheus made his way down from the rooftops, pausing occasionally to let a menacing growl escape from his throat. Reaching the alley, Prometheus’ heart began beating harder with excitement when he saw that his prey had taken up a defensive posture rather than being frozen in place in fright. The prey scanned the shadows, trying to pierce the darkness and deep shadows for the source of the menacing sounds. Prometheus growled again and grinned in delight when his prey slowly drew a long-bladed knife from a sheath at the small of his back. The growl had echoed through the alley and the street making it almost impossible to trace it back to its source.

The Werewolf waited until his prey turned around as he tried to find the source of the growls. When the prey had his back turned, Prometheus dove from his hiding place, doing a tuck and roll to reach his new hiding place behind a large dumpster bin. He peered around the edge of the bin, waiting for the right moment to make his move. He shifted positions, reached up to grip the upper edge of the bin, bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, took a deep breath and leapt up from his hiding place to land on the top of the Dumpster.

At the sound of the Werewolf landing on the top of the metal Dumpster, the prey spun around. “What the fuck?” He said softly more to himself at seeing the Werewolf that was crouched on top of the Dumpster just a few yards away. To Prometheus’ delight the prey didn’t try to run away. Instead, he shifted his position slightly to the right while staring in the general direction of the Werewolf. Prometheus shifted his position, moving a little closer to the edge of the Dumpster, eliciting a grin from his prey.

“Oh, do not tell me that you think you can take me on, you panted faced freak,” the prey said. “Do you have any fucking idea who I am?”

Prometheus made a show of sniffing the air, never letting his eyes off of his prey. Finally, he spoke: “Of course I know who you are,” Prometheus said slowly, drawing the words out. “You’re prey and I’m the hunter.”

The prey gave a serious chuckle. “They call me Crusher, ‘cuz I like crushing balls,” he said. He slowly and deliberately slid the knife back into its sheath at the small of his back and sized up his strange opponent. “I’m gonna take my time with you, freak. I’m gonna crush your balls one at a time until they’re nothing but jelly in your sac.”

Prometheus’ return chuckle rumbled deep in his throat. “I’m glad you think that’s what you’re going to do,” he said. “But, I’ll tell you what you’re really going to be doing tonight – you’re going to be screaming like a girl when I eat your balls. You’re going to be screaming and begging me to kill you.” He cocked his head to one side and silently regarded Crusher and giggled. “But, I won’t kill you – I’ll let you live so you can remember what it felt like to have someone eat your balls.”

Crusher gave a roar and charged towards the Dumpster, his arms outstretched. Prometheus remained motionless waiting for his moment to move. When Crusher was barely out of arm’s reach, Prometheus leapt high in the air doing a flip over Crusher’s head, landing lightly on his feet behind Crusher. The Werewolf lashed out lightly towards Crusher’s sides, jabbing just enough to sink the razor sharp claws through Crusher’s T-shirt and slightly into his skin.

Crusher grunted in surprise at the twin blows. He laughed, “Don’t tell me that that’s the fucking best that you can do, you asshole.”

“For now, for now,” Prometheus teased, bouncing around on the balls of his feet. “I want to play – I haven’t had a fun playmate in so, so long.” He stopped bouncing around and cocked his head plaintively. “Will you be my playmate now?”

“Sure I’ll play with you,” Crusher laughed. “I’ll play punching bag with your balls before I crush them into jelly.” Prometheus gave a series of playful yips as he danced around inviting his opponent to make a move. Crusher stepped back to regard Prometheus, placing his hands on his hips. As soon as his hands touched his sides, Crusher winced and felt a hot wetness on his hands. Holding his hands out, he saw that both were stained with blood. “What the fuck?”

Prometheus laughed maniacally, his right hand lashing out to slash Crusher’s cheek. This time, the Werewolf lashed out hard, letting his claws dig all the way down to the bone. Crusher cried out in anger and pain, he cursed Prometheus, swearing and describing in profane detail about the unbelievable pain he planned to inflict on his attacker. To his surprise, Prometheus threw his head back and his with his arms spread wide, let out a long wolf-like howl. Crusher had a choice to make while his strange attacker had his attention diverted – he could try to run and make an escape, or he could charge his attacker.

Crusher made the wrong choice.

Screaming in rage, Crusher rushed Prometheus and swept him up in his powerful arms in a suffocating bear hug. In Crusher’s experience, that move was enough to send his victims into a panic. But, that didn’t happen with Prometheus. The Werewolf laughed and howled again before bringing his head forward violently, crashing his forehead into the bridge of Crusher’s nose, smashing it. Crusher’s suffocating hug loosened as blood fountained from his nose. He gasped open-mouthed and almost instantly began to tighten his grip. Crusher had experienced pain before and he’d always been able to push it from his mind. He concentrated on crushing the ribcage of his opponent.

When Crusher’s grip had loosened, Prometheus took a quick deep breath filling his lungs to capacity and actually smiled in his prey’s face. He let his head wobble and his arms sink towards the ground as he pretended to be on verge of passing out.

“I could kill you right now,” Crusher snarled. “But, I’m going to leave enough life in you for you to feel me crush each of your balls into jelly. I’m gonna…” Crusher’s voice trailed off as his opponent’s head stopped wobbling. Prometheus stared directly into Crusher’s eyes and smiled as he spread his fingers wide and plunged the razor-sharp clawed tips deep into Crusher’s ass.

Crusher screamed in pain as fear began to invade his brain. The pain exploded as his opponent pulled his arms apart slowly, slicing deeply through the skin and muscle of Crusher’s ass. He could feel the hot wetness of blood cascading down his legs. He dropped his opponent and gathering all his formidable strength, pushed away from Prometheus as the unfamiliar sensation of fear began to flood his body. In Crusher’s experience, his size and strength had always been enough of an edge that he had stopped being afraid of other people a long time ago. He didn’t even fear Zoot – and Zoot was as dangerous as they came. Staggering away from his attacker, Crusher felt intense fear for the first time in his life. His mouth went dry as tremors wracked his body.

“No – don’t go just yet,” Prometheus called stepping forward. “We’re not done playing. There’s so much more fun I can have with you.” He moved slightly closer, his smile wide. “You’re the funnest playmate I’ve had all night.”

Fear and loss of blood combined to dull Crusher’s attention, slowing his reflexes. He totally missed the signs of the roundhouse kick that smashed into his face shattering his jaw. One second his attacker had been standing flat-footed in front of him and the next the bastard was moving, his booted foot lashing out. The next thing Crusher knew his head was exploding as his mouth filled with blood and broken teeth. The big teen dropped to his knees like a poleaxed steer and rolled onto his side stunned.

Prometheus moved quickly and dragged the big teen over to the side of a building, and propped him up in a sitting position. Opening the small pack strapped to his waist, Prometheus produced a pair of wire ties and quickly secured Crusher’s hands above his head to a rainspout. Once he was sure that his prey couldn’t defend himself any more, Prometheus pulled an ammonia ampoule from his pack, crushed it and held it under Crusher’s broken nose.

“Wake up, wake up,” the Werewolf called in a singsong voice as he pulled Crusher’s pants down and spread his legs wide. “Time to have the most fun with you.” Prometheus looked lovingly down at Crusher’s balls and actually began drooling with undisguised anticipation. “I told you I was going to eat your balls.” He tapped the tip of Crusher’s nose in playful reproach. “You should have believed me and I don’t think you did.” Prometheus’ head dove suddenly towards Crusher’s crotch.

Crusher came to sudden and total awareness at the pain that flared between his legs. His attacker actually had bitten him in the balls. Crusher screamed again and again – it really did feel like the fucker that attacked him was trying to eat his balls. He looked down in time to see Prometheus raise his head. Crusher felt his stomach heave and he vomited all over himself when he realized that his attacker’s mouth was full and that it was filled with one of his balls. He vomited again as Prometheus chewed and backed away.

“Awww, you ruined the other ball by puking all over it,” Prometheus said in mock sadness after he swallowed. He smacked his lips. “That first one was tasty and I was in the mood for more.” He threw his head back and howled even louder than he had earlier, drawing the sound out as long as he could.

“Kill me,” Crusher begged, his words mushy and poorly formed around his broken jaw. “Finish what you started … kill me.”

“Oh, I can’t do that,” Prometheus explained. “I never intended to kill you. Of course, if someone doesn’t find you soon enough, you’ll probably die … eventually. If you do manage to live long enough for someone to find you, remember to tell them that tonight is the first night of the reign of the Werewolves.” His voice hardened. “Remember that, asshole – the Werewolves rule!”

*****

Freddie stepped out of his office in Club Inferno and struck a pose as he looked around the room for Emcee. Freddie knew that he looked a lot better than he had on the night that Zoot had offered him the position as club manager. On that fateful night, he had a ragged bleached out crewcut and little else but the clothes on his back and by the time a rigged card game was over, he didn’t even have any clothes. After losing the rigged game, he had been forced to face the wheel – which was also rigged and the crowd had watched and cheered as he had been castrated right in front of them. Freddie had fully expected to spend the rest of his life as a hard labor slave – and then Zoot stepped in to change everything.

Before he knew what was happening, Freddie was in the club office and Fixer – the club manager back then, had been toppled from power by Zoot, who immediately offered Freddie the job. Since that night, Freddie had prospered and looked far different from the ragged, humiliated street trash he had been back then. His hair was now expertly cut in a slicked retro style. Instead of ragged, dirty jeans and sweatshirts, Freddie wore a white dinner jacket, starched shirt, and bow tie and patent leather shoes. He did his best to look like Humphrey Bogart from the Old Days movie, “Casablanca.” He had always loved that movie and he had seized the opportunity to look like his hero.

Freddie stopped a passing waiter. “Tell the floor boss to come to my office,” he said quietly. He turned and returned to his office without waiting for the waiter to answer. In his office, Freddie took his place behind his desk and intently studied the chessboard in front of him. In the movie Humphrey Bogart had played a solitary game of chess and Freddie had taken to doing the same. Since Freddie never allowed anyone else to play against him, no one knew just how poorly Freddie played the game. In fact, everyone assumed that Freddie didn’t play against anyone because he was so far above everyone else’s skill level that he was easily bored with their pathetic attempts to match him.

The door opened and the floor boss stepped into the office. “Emcee’s still not in,” Freddie said softly. “Did he mention that he’d be late?”

“No and that’s not like him,” the floor boss replied. “And, two of the pit bosses – Terry and Vern – are missing, too. They sometimes hang out together.”

“Do you think the three of them might be shacked up together?”

The floor boss pulled a face. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Emcee would probably plug anything or anyone who gave him the chance. The other two just go for the girls.”

“Okay,” Freddie nodded. “Is it possible that they’re out on a drunk or shacking up somewhere?”

“I guess anything is possible,” the floor boss said slowly. “But, I’ve seen Emcee so drunk that he could hardly stand. But, he’s always been here on time and as soon as he goes on stage it’s like he turns stone cold sober.” He shook his head again. “It just ain’t like him not to show up.”

“Okay, get a couple of our people to hit the streets and look for those three,” Freddie said slowly. “Start with wherever it is that Emcee calls his crib. It could be possible the three of them got food poisoning or something. If that’s the case, I want to know it. If they’re shacked up or drunk, I want them brought here right away.”

“You don’t think they’ve jumped to another Tribe, do you?” The pit boss asked.

“Nah – they’ve got it too good here,” Freddie said. “If they’re not at Emcee’s crib, have our people start a search of the streets – it’s still possible that they all got food poisoning and tried to get here.”

“Maybe someone attacked them,” the floor boss suggested.

Freddie shot the floor boss a withering glance. The Club was owned and protected by the Loco Tribe and the Locos had the reputation for being the most dangerous of all the Tribe leaders. Freddie couldn’t imagine that anyone would want to risk the wrath of Zoot, the Loco leader. Still, there were some crazy people out there.

“Okay, check all the side streets and things,” Freddie agreed. “See if they’re out there and sick or hurt.”

“Should we tell Zoot?”

“Not yet,” Freddie replied. “Let’s see what our people can find.”

Three hours later, Freddie was called from the club to an abandoned office building just a few blocks away. Moments after entering, Freddie lurched outside with his hands covering his mouth as if he was trying to hold back the vomit that was spewing through his fingers. Reaching the curb, he fell to his knees and was violently sick. When he finally stopped retching, Freddie feebly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Get Zoot over here,” Freddie rasped. He pointed a shaking finger back towards the office building. “And, for God’s sake – get him down off that wall.”

Zoot arrived with an entire squad of his guard in less than twenty minutes. He found a pale and shaken Freddie pacing nervously up and down the street. Vomit stains spotted his normally immaculate white dinner jacket. He strode straight to his club manager and stood in front of him silently, waiting for a report on what had happened.

Freddie stopped pacing and stared into the dark eyes of the Loco leader. “Somebody killed Terry and Vern – two of the club’s pit bosses…”

“What about Emcee?” Zoot demanded. “I was told Emcee was involved and that he was still alive.”

“He was and is still alive,” Freddie confirmed. “Someone – probably a group – worked him over pretty bad. He was beaten and kicked … stripped naked and, and castrated…” Freddie quickly clapped his hand to his mouth.

“What else?” Zoot demanded.

“They – they, nailed him to the wall and banded his tongue,” Freddie gulped back the bile. “Oh, shit you should have seen it – his tongue is all swollen and black.”

“I want to see him,” Zoot said. Freddie motioned to one of the guards who came within a few paces of Zoot and waved in the direction of the building.

In the office, Zoot stood over the blanketed form of Emcee. At a nod of his head, the guard who had stayed with Emcee pulled the blanket back. Zoot’s saw that Emcee’s injuries were more extensive than Freddie had reported. It was true that Emcee had been castrated, but whoever had worked him over had amputated both of his nipples and carved the word WEREWOLVES into his chest. Emcee’s tongue was grotesquely swollen, protruding through his lips and totally black.

“Keep him comfortable,” Zoot ordered the guard who had been staying with Emcee. “These injuries are beyond what our people can handle. I’m sending a runner to the Shiprats – maybe they can help him.”

Zoot strode from the building snapping orders and questions in a rapid-fire manner. Most importantly, he wanted to know who the fuck the Werewolves were and where they had come from. Giving orders made him feel like he had a handle on the situation. It wouldn’t be long before he knew who these fucking Werewolves were and where they hung out. Once he was armed with that information, Zoot would introduce those assholes to the real meaning of pain and suffering.

“What the fuck is going on tonight?”

Zoot turned to see the head of the Thunderbird Tribe standing a few yards down the street. “What the fuck is going on tonight?” Hornet, the Thunderbird leader, repeated. He strode towards Zoot, flanked by six of his soldiers.

Zoot turned and calmly faced the other Tribe leader. “What’s the problem?”

“What’s the problem?” Hornet cried. “Three of my people are dead – mutilated beyond belief. And Crusher – the big enforcer from the New City Tribe – somebody beat the shit outta him…” Hornet looked away and stepped closer as he lowered his voice. “Whoever it was, ate one of his balls off, man! So what I wanna know is what the fuck is going on?”

Zoot forced himself to remain calm. “It seems that a new Tribe has moved into The City – they call themselves Werewolves,” Zoot said. “It looks like tonight is their unique way of announcing their presence to the us.”

“So what are we gonna do?” Hornet demanded.

“We’re going to find these Werewolves and skin them alive,” Zoot said. “And, that’s just for starters.”

Jack was curled up in a fetal position, his arms wrapped around a large pillow dreaming of snuggling close to Bray when his dreams were invaded by a frantic pounding on the suite door. Jack was instantly awake and leaping from the bed in a panic, afraid that his sleep was being interrupted by bad news about Bray. He jerked open the door and his worst fears were realized when he saw Dal’s face.

“It’s not Bray,” Dal said before Jack could say a word. He had recognized the panicked look in Jack’s eyes when the door swung open. “But, it is bad – it sounds real, real bad.”

“What is it?” Jack asked, retreating back into the suite to begin dressing.

“Multiple attacks all over the place,” Dal said. “Reports are still coming in, Ryan’s already taken the ambulance with Amber and Lars to pick up the victims.”

“How much time do we have before they start arriving?”

“Maybe twenty minutes the way Ryan drives,” Dal estimated.

“Give me five minutes to jump in the shower,” Jack said.

The medical facility was open long before the ambulance returned to the ship. Jack and Dal were waiting at the bottom of the ramp and had the back hatch of the hearse-bodied ambulance open even before Ryan had it fully stopped. Both Shiprats started violently and involuntarily stepped back when they found themselves staring into the painted mask of Zoot. Looking past the Loco leader, Jack saw Amber leaning over a bloody form on the gurney. There was another bloody form on the padded bench in the back of the ambulance – both were moaning and writhing in pain. Regaining his composure, Jack shoved Zoot out of the way and climbed into the ambulance next to Amber who quickly ran down the obvious injuries. Jack nodded as he examined Emcee’s blackened tongue.

“I took a risk and cut away the band that had been placed around his tongue,” Amber said. “I was hoping that it wasn’t too late to get the blood flow restored.” She glanced nervously at Jack. “I hope that I didn’t do the wrong thing.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack said gently. “It was the right thing to do. Okay, let’s get him up to the ship’s hospital and get another gurney down here for this one,” Jack said as he turned his attention to the other victim. “Do we know who he is?”

“The name’s Crusher and he’s with the New City Tribe,” Zoot said. He took Jack’s arm in a gentle, but firm grip. “About Emcee…”

“He’s going to get the best possible care we can give him,” Jack said. “And so will Crusher. Nobody brought here ever gets less.” He pulled his arm from Zoot’s grip and hurried to follow the gurney with Emcee on it to the hospital.

In the hospital, Jack and Dal quickly scrubbed and hurried to the hastily set up triage area. Amber rattled off the injuries of each of the patients and relayed their vital statistics. He examined each of the patients quickly, noting that aside from his tongue, Emcee was in slightly less serious condition and did his best to ignore the pitiful groans and cries from each of the patients.

“Dal, you take over on Emcee until Selene and Heather get here,” Jack said. “We’ll take this Crusher guy into the operating room. Selene can take over Emcee from you and then you can join me.”

“Yo, Yo, Yo,” Zoot called. “Why isn’t Emcee going into the operating room? What makes Crusher more special than Emcee?”

“Nothing makes him more special,” Jack said firmly. “Crusher has more complicated injuries and more of them. Emcee’s injuries are serious, but most of them don’t require the special equipment we have available in the operating room, and you should be thankful for that.” Without giving Zoot time to respond, Jack spun on his heel and headed into the operating room where Amber once again gave Jack Crusher’s vital statistics as he scrubbed for surgery. Jack’s mouth became a tight line – the patient’s vitals were dropping.

Standing over Crusher, Amber shook her head helplessly. “He’s got so many injuries – where do we start?”

Jack examined Crusher from head to toe again, noting the severity of all of the injuries. “The two worst are his scrotum and his butt,” Jack said. “We repair the damage to his scrotum, then roll him over and close those slashes to his butt.” He chewed his lower lip. “Then, we access his condition and maybe go to work on his face if he can stand it. If not, we pack the injuries there in pressure bandages and hope for the best.” Jack examined the saline line that Amber had already started. “I wish we had some blood to give him. He’s lost a lot of blood and the saline can only do so much.”

“Blood would make that big a difference?”

“Sure would, Amber,” Jack nodded as he bent over Crusher’s lower belly and began to trim the ragged edges of the damaged blood vessels. “Shit, it looks like someone bit him here.” He glanced up at Amber. “I’d feel a whole lot better if we had just a few units of blood – that would make a big difference to him.”

“We’ve got lots of people on the ship – can’t we just get them to donate blood?” Amber asked.

“Sure they could donate,” Jack said as he went to work suturing the scrotum injuries closed. “The problem is that we don’t know their blood types and don’t know his – give someone the wrong blood type and you create a whole other problem.”

“But, isn’t there a universal donor?”

“Yeah, Type O,” Jack said absently. “But without typing everyone right now, we wouldn’t know who has what type of blood type.” Jack checked each of the blood vessels that he had just closed off to see if there was any leakage. Satisfied with his work so far, he went to work trimming the edges of the ruined scrotum before suturing it closed.

“I’ll be right back,” Amber said hurrying from the room.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Shaking his head, Jack turned his attention back to the work at hand, wondering what Amber was up to.

Amber returned just as Jack was finishing his repair work on Crusher’s groin. She carried four pints of blood with her. Jack watched in wonder as she hung a bag of blood and started another IV line.

“What’s that?”

“Four pints of Type O blood,” Amber explained. “

“Where the hell did you get that?”

“Since you never went to the camps, you’re probably not aware that everyone was blood-typed,” Amber explained. “They marked all of our ID with the blood type … the blood type was on the dog tags we wore, the ID cards we were supposed to wear clipped to our clothes, basically on everything.” She winked at Jack. “I just had a quick poll taken and everyone who remembered that they had Type O blood was tapped for a pint.”

“You’re a genius,” Jack said in awe. He grunted as he rolled Crusher onto his side and examined the pressure bandages covering the patient’s ass. It looked like the bleeding was under control for the time being. “Okay, let’s get some help to roll him over and get to work closing those slashes. Before he could say anything else, angry shouting broke out on the other side of the operating room door. Jack tried to ignore it, but the shouting grew worse and then the sound of scuffling came clearly through the doors.

Ripping off his gloves, Jack hurried out to the treatment area to find Dal frantically trying to keep a scuffling mass of people from knocking Emcee’s gurney over. Ryan had Zoot’s arms pinned to his sides and was moving the Loco leader away from the knot of people still scuffling while Lars tried to bring order to them.

“What the hell is going on out here?” Jack bellowed. “Stop it, stop it! Stop this idiocy right now!”

Lars finally got the combatants separated and Hornet raced towards Jack. Dropping Zoot, Ryan managed to grab Hornet’s long ponytail and jerk him to a stop. He towered over the Thunderbird leader and held up a warning finger. “Calm down,” Ryan warned. “You can talk to Jack from right there.”

“Leggo!” Hornet screamed. He took a deep breath and visibly forced himself to calm down. “We need you and the ambulance to come right away – one of my Tribe just found another one of our people still alive.” He jerked an accusatory finger at Zoot and another stranger. “They said you wasn’t going to go anywhere.”

“Okay, everyone get this straight,” Jack said angrily. “I decide when and where I go on a medical emergency – nobody else does that. I also decide who can stay in the waiting room – and I do mean the fucking waiting room on this ship. If you don’t like that, get the hell off the ship and wait somewhere else.” He looked around the room before continuing. “Now, there’s no way I can leave with the ambulance right now. But, that doesn’t mean that it can’t go out to bring patients back here.” He turned to the stranger. “You, who are you and what’s the problem?”

“Name’s Tucker – I’m the chief of the Pumas,” the stranger said. “We got two of our people messed up real bad. They need more help than we can give them. You’re the only ones who can help.”

“Okay, that’s not a problem,” Jack said.

“No fucking way,” Hornet called. “We found one of our people messed up – the ambulance goes there first.”

“We’ll decide where the ambulance goes,” Jack said. He turned to Zoot. “And what was your part in all this?”

“They wanted to take you away from what you were doing,” Zoot explained. “I figured it was a good idea for you to leave.”

“Like I said, I decide if and when I leave,” Jack said. “But, in this case, you were right. We just don't need fights breaking out and distracting all of us.” Jack turned to Ryan. “Get with those two and find out where their injured Tribe mates are located. You and Lars decide where to go first.”

“Gotcha,” Ryan said.

Jack turned to the Tribe leaders. “Now remember, the decisions out in the field are up to Ryan and Lars – and only them.” He turned to Lars and Ryan. “If these chuckle heads give you any problems, just drop them off and come right back here.” He glowered around the room. “Now, we have lives to try and save…” Jack turned on his heel and stalked back into the operating room.

Dal slipped into the operating room as Jack was almost finished sewing up the slashes on the right side of Crusher’s butt. Without waiting, he re-gowned and pulled on fresh gloves and went to work suturing the slashes on Crusher’s left side.

“Thanks,” Jack said without looking up. “How’d it go for you with your patient?”

“The castration was nice and clean,” Dal said. “Both of his hands are broken from where they drove the nails through them. It’s a miracle that his hands didn’t rip apart from the weight of his body – probably would have, if he hadn’t been found so quickly. I’m most worried about his tongue.”

“How bad is it?”

Dal sighed. “That’s just it – I don’t know,” Dal said plaintively. “I think that it might be pinking up a little along the line where the band was placed – oh, by the way, Ryan said that the band used was from a tool used to castrate farm animals.”

“Nice creative use for it,” Jack muttered bitterly. He shook his head to clear the negative thoughts. “You think it might be pinking up some, though?”

“Yeah – I just hope it isn’t wishful thinking,” Dal said.

Jack shook his head. “Nah – no matter how hard you wished for it, you wouldn’t say it was getting color back unless it really was,” he said. “The trick now is to see if the blood flow is totally restored or if it’s too late to save most of the tongue.”

By the time Jack, Dal, and Amber had finished with Crusher and checked on Emcee, the ambulance had returned with the other two attack victims a male and a female. Both had been systematically beaten. The male from the Puma Tribe had been savagely kicked repeatedly in the groin; both of his testicles had been crushed and would have to be removed. The girl from the New City Tribe was in worse shape – her attackers had broken several bones in her face and severely damaged her left eye. Examining her face, Jack was afraid that she’d lose the eye. But, Jack was concerned about the signs of abdominal bleeding that the girl exhibited. She gave all the indications of having a damaged spleen.

“Well?” Dal asked.

Jack licked his lips and stared down at the girl. The left side of her face reminded him of a china doll he had seen right after being out on his own – one side of the face had been broken just like this girl’s. He brushed a lock of bright pink hair from her forehead before finally looking up. “All the symptoms say that she’s bleeding internally – and that’s it’s probably her spleen that’s damaged.”

“I’d agree with that,” Dal nodded.

“The problem neither of us has removed a spleen,” Jack said. “We could kill her by trying to remove her spleen.”

“And if we don’t try?”

“She’ll die,” Jack said flatly.

“So, it looks like we operate,” Dal said evenly.

Jack nodded. “Let’s pack her in ice and see if we can lower her vital functions. I want to try something.” Jack went out into the waiting area and motioned to Hornet. “Were you in the camps?”

“What’s that matter?”

“Answer the question,” Jack snapped. “Were you in the camps?”

“Yeah, yeah I was,” Hornet replied belligerently.

“So, do you remember your blood type?”

“Yeah – I’m B-positive.”

“Okay, I’m going to have Ryan take you back to your Tribe in a pickup truck. I need you to round up everyone who has Type O blood,” Jack explained. “Your friend in there is bleeding internally and needs an operation. She’s lost a lot of blood and is going to loose even more when we operate. Unless we can replace it, she probably won’t survive the operation.”

“So don’t operate,” Hornet suggested.

“Then she will die for sure,” Jack said. “Bring back those people with Type O blood and maybe we can save her.” Jack waited for Hornet to finally see the sense of his request. “By the way, what’s her name?”

“It’s Skye.”

“That’s a pretty name,” Jack said softly. “It fits her.”

While waiting for Hornet’s return, Jack and Dal went to work on the young man from the Puma Tribe. Dal informed Jack that the patient’s name was Pug. Jack nodded as he carefully examined Pug’s facial bones for any sign of fractures. He moved down Pug’s body, palpating the new patient’s abdomen for signs of unusual firmness. Finally, he reached the smashed testicles and gingerly felt them. He gave Dal a sad look as he shook his head.

“No way to save them, is there?” Dal asked.

Jack took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “No, there isn’t,” Jack admitted. “They’re not much more than pulp now – looks like someone danced on them.” Jack sighed again. “Okay, we’re pretty much agreed – Pug has a broken arm and wrist, concussion, and testicle damage?”

“Looks that way,” Dal agreed. He looked down. “We going to start with the testicles?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, let’s get moving.”

Jack and Dal had just finished moving Pug to the ward area when Hornet showed up with a dozen others. He assured them that each one had Type O blood. Some of the donors were from New City Tribe and some were Strays that hung around the Tribe picking up on scraps. It didn’t take long for Jack to get Dal, Amber, Selene, and Heather organized to start drawing blood while he checked on Skye’s condition. Packing her in ice and running saline IV’s full bore had stabilized her. Looking over the steps to the surgery on the operating room computer monitor, Jack hoped that it was as straightforward as it appeared broken down step-by-step. As soon as Dal brought the first bags of blood into the operating room, Jack hung them and started another IV in Skye’s arm.

“Amber can bring the rest in,” Jack said. “Let’s get scrubbed and go to work before she gets any worse.”

“Think we can do it?” Dal asked.

“I hope so,” Jack replied. “I think so, yeah … I’m pretty sure that between you and me, we can do it.”

Amber and Selene joined Jack and Dal in the operating room. Selene operated the computer enlarging the photographs of each step of the surgery while Amber talked Jack and Dal through the steps. All four Shiprats found that they shared the same physical feelings of nervousness. They all had an icy lump in the pit of their bellies, dry mouths, and shaky knees. Aside from the time when Dal drilled a hole in Jack’s skull to relieve the building pressure, this was the most complicated surgery the Shiprats had performed.

Jack wished that he could cross his fingers that he was right about the spleen being damaged. He could be wrong and Skye’s liver could be the cause of the internal bleeding. Or, worse yet, both her liver and spleen could have been injured. Jack almost cried for joy when he and Dal were able to expose Skye’s spleen and found that it was the source of the internal bleeding. Amber relayed Selene’s instructions word-for-word as Selene put the images on the computer monitor for the two surgeons to see.

Hornet rushed Jack and Dal when they appeared at the door to the waiting area – he stopped short of grabbing them when Ryan quickly stood as if ready to grab onto his ponytail again. “Well? Well? How is she?” Hornet demanded.

Jack shrugged wearily. “I don’t know,” he replied. “I mean, she’s alive for now, and that’s pretty major. The next few days are going to tell the story. She’s going to need more surgery once she gets her strength back. But, we’ll worry about that later.”

“I want to see her,” Hornet demanded. Jack just stared coldly at Hornet. Finally, Hornet shook his head and sighed deeply. “Can I see her … please?”

“That’s better,” Jack replied. “Yeah, yeah you can see her for a few minutes. No more than five minutes. You can come back later this afternoon and see her.”

“It is this afternoon,” Hornet said. “It’s after two o’clock.”

Jack and Dal looked at each other in amazement. They had no idea that that much time had passed. “Okay,” Jack said. “She should be awake some time early this evening and you can see her then for a few more minutes. She’s going to need her rest.”

Suddenly very tired, Jack turned and headed towards the showers with Dal right on his heels. Neither bothered to strip out of their bloodstained scrubs – they just stood under the shower nozzles and let cold water spray over their heads. For a long time neither said a word.

“Does anyone know what the hell went on last night?” Jack finally asked, his head hung low to let the shower spray pound down on the back of his neck.

“Your guess is as good as anyone else’s,” Dal replied. “The ones we treated were just the tip of the iceberg from what I understand. I heard Zoot talking to that Ebony girl – she gives me the creeps – anyway, I heard him say something about lots of people being killed.”

*****

Lars and Tai San were waiting for the medical team in the dining room where heaps of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and French toast waited them. As Jack and the others ate, Lars quickly filled them in on what he had learned while they were operating. Lars had not only talked to Zoot and Hornet; he’d talked to some of the Locos who had seen the victims where they’d been found. Tai San had even more detail to share – she had gone to the attack sites and talked with anyone she could find. At first, she didn’t learn much more than Lars already knew, but by being persistent she was able to find Strays willing to talk. Some had only heard the strange howls during the night, a couple had actually seen the confrontation between Crusher and the unknown assailant.

“The long and short of it is that these Werewolves are outsiders,” Tai San said. “It’s like they sprang from out of nowhere.”

“Do we have any idea of how many of these … these Werewolves there are?” Amber asked.

Tai San shook her head. “Some people said only one and some said there were dozens,” she said.

“In other words, nobody knows for sure,” Dal said. “Okay – lacking hard facts, what reasonable conjecture can we come up with? Anyone?”

“Well, there are clearly more than one operating,” Lars said.

“How can we be sure of that?” Tai San asked.

“The attacks were too close together for one person to have accomplished all alone,” Lars explained. “For another, someone had to hold Emcee in place while he was nailed to the wall.”

“Okay there’s a group,” Dal said. Jack stood and quietly excused himself from the table for a few minutes. Dal and Lars continued to try to winnow through the scant evidence they had – both factual and conjectural to create a picture of what was going on. They were still going over what little Tai San and Lars had learned when Jack returned with a map of The City.

“Okay, we know for sure where a couple of the attacks took place – or at least, where the victims were found,” Jack said. “We’ve got one just a couple of blocks from the Inferno here,” Jack drew an X on the map in red marker.

“And Crusher was found here, right Lars? ” Tai San said, tapping the map. Jack marked the map again.

“That’s right,” Lars said. “And, here is where we found Skye,” Lars said pointing to a spot on the map. Once again, Jack marked the map. “And, Pug was found over here.” Another X went on the map.

Then they went through the general locations of where City Tribe members were killed. Tai San pointed out that that information was still coming in and sketchy at best. Jack ignored her until he finished marking the map when he sat back and looked around at his friends.

“I agree that we don’t have the best, most accurate information,” Jack said. “But, we have enough to indicate patterns. He tapped the map. “It’s pretty clear that these Werewolves are an organized team,” Jack said. “There’s probably four groups as a part of the main team.” He drew a large cross over the map and everyone could see that the known attacks were grouped in four different areas.

“It’s like someone has divided The City by points of the compass and was working those sectors,” Selene observed.

Jack silently stared at the map, tapping his finger against his chin. After a few moments, he began tapping a point on the map near one of the outer most X points.

“Get Ryan up here right now,” Jack said, his voice cracking as he leapt to his feet and began pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “Please let me be wrong, let me be wrong,” he muttered over and over to himself.

By the time Ryan arrived, Dal was sure that if he could take Jack’s blood pressure, he’d discover that it was well above a safe level. He did calm down enough to ask Ryan to show them on the map exactly where he dropped off the exploration team.

Ryan studied the map and grinned. “I dunno why you’re asking,” he said. “You’ve already got it marked with an X, right here.” He stabbed his finger at one of the outer X’s. Silence fell over the dining room. Ryan looked around in confusion. “What’s the matter?”

“That’s were one of the attacks took place,” Lars said.

“Right,” Jack said as all color drained from his face. “And, they’re going to be tagging the cars, sidewalks, buildings, and streets with spray paint so that if something happens to them and they need help we can go find them.” Jack swallowed hard. “In other words…”

“In other words, they’re leaving a trail right to them,” Dal said in horror. “Jack, we’ve got to get them out of there like as quick as possible.”

Ryan examined the map and suggested contacting the exploration team by radio and having them turn to the east. He pointed out that he could get a vehicle close to them in just a couple of hours. Selene suggested that they just retrace their steps.

“No, the idea is to move them away from the Werewolves,” Ryan said. “By going to the west, I can meet them around here,” Ryan’s finger hovered over the map for a few seconds before stabbing it down, “here at the onramp where High Street meets the highway.”

Jack and the others studied the map, agreeing with Ryan’s assessment. They all quickly agreed to radio the exploration team and have them change their course immediately in order to rendezvous with Ryan as soon as possible. Jack glanced out the large Dining Room windows and felt his heart sink – the sky was already turning purple, tinged with gold. It was going to be dark soon. He hated thinking that the team would be spending another night out there.

*****

“Come again,” Bray’s voice crackled over the speaker.

As patiently as possible, Jack explained everything that had happened and the little bit that they knew about the Werewolves. He described how one of the Werewolf kills overlapped their route and that everyone thought that it was better to play it safe and cut the exploration short. Neither Bray nor any of the other members of this exploration team were overly excited about the idea of cutting their mission short. They all offered various suggestions for how they could continue the mission and increase their security.

“Listen all of you,” Jack said as calmly as he could into the handset. “These Werewolves are like something none of us have ever faced before. Their attacks are more savage than anything we’ve experienced … they … there’s evidence that they even eat parts of their victims.”

Reluctantly, Bray and the others agreed that the safest course for them was to cut the exploration of that sector short and that they’d immediately move towards the rendezvous point and link up with Ryan as soon as possible. Bray estimated that they should arrive at the onramp sometime around four in the morning.

*****

Cullen looked over to the other two Werewolves on his team. Like him, they were both ambitious and anxious to make a spectacular kill. The three of them were also eager to make up for their poor performance from the night before. Their instructions had been clear – ignore the Strays and prey only on those who were clearly members of a Tribe. All three of their victims had turned out to be Strays. Cullen gingerly touched the gash in his cheek that Prometheus had given him as a reminder of their goof. He’d make things right with the next hunt.

“We had a bad start last night,” Cullen said. “But, we’re gonna make up for that tonight.” He tapped the spray painted markings on the side of the building. “These guys exploring must be pretty important to their Tribe…”

“How do you know figger that?” Asked Jeff, a tall, well-muscled Werewolf.

“You ever known a Stray to mark their path so people could follow ‘em?” Cullen asked with a sneer. “Of course not! Strays go outta their way to cover their tracks.” He looked at Jeff and Kobe, their other companion. “Now what’s the main reason for a Tribe – any Tribe to go exploring?”

“To increase their territory,” Kobe said with a sly grin.

“Exactly,” Cullen said. “And explorers are usually pretty high up in the ranks of any Tribe.” He fingered the spray painted markings on the building. “And, these explorers have left us directions straight to them.”

“But they got at least a day’s march on us,” Jeff pointed out.

Kobe pointed to the packed cars that blocked the streets around them. There were even cars stalled on the sidewalks. “With all that mess, there’s no way they could make any kind decent time.”

Suddenly Jeff smiled and looked up. “And we can make better time going across the rooftops,” he said.

“Exactly,” Cullen said. “We should catch up with them in a couple of hours.” He motioned towards the fire escape in the alley to their left. “C’mon, the hunt is on.”

*****

Ryan decided to take the heavy-duty cracker box style ambulance to the rendezvous point to meet up with Bray, Sasha, Brandon, Jordan, Peter, and Brandon. He hoped that the first aid equipment would be unnecessary, but figured having it available wasn’t necessarily a bad idea. He pulled up to the Queen Mary ramp to pick up some extra provisions that he wanted to carry along. He had packed up a camp stove, coffeepot, coffee, some bread, and a couple of cans of SPAM. It wasn’t much, but he figured the team would appreciate it after walking all night. He had just finished stowing everything in the back of the ambulance when he looked up and saw Jack come strolling down the ramp with a heavy canvas bag slung over his shoulder.

“I’m coming along,” Jack said firmly in response to Ryan’s surprised expression.

“But you must be beat,” Ryan said. “You didn’t get any sleep last night.

Jack shrugged, “I’ll nap in the ambulance.” He slid the heavy bag into the back of the ambulance, then turned and looked steadily at Ryan. “I’m going along,” he repeated.

Ryan nodded in understanding. “Yeah, I guess you are.” He gestured to the bag. “Whatja got in there?”

“Just some stuff I hope we don’t need,” Jack said cryptically. “C’mon, let’s get up to the kitchen. Amber and Selene stopped me and said they had some stuff for us to take on the road with us and that we’d better get our asses up there ASAP or else.”

In the kitchen Ryan found that the girls had prepared sausage sandwiches with peppers and onions. The sandwiches were wrapped in wax paper. Selene also had three large paper bags and two large thermoses for them to take along.

“I expect you two boys to eat these sausage sandwiches while they’re hot,” Selene ordered. She gestured to the paper bags. “Amber and I made some extra sandwiches for you and the others when you pick them up. There’re some sausage sandwiches, some ham sandwiches, and some bacon biscuits in there. We packed up some doughnuts and bear claws, too.”

“But, Sel – I’ve got a camp stove and bread and SPAM down in…”

“I don’t care what you have down there, Ryan,” Selene said firmly. “You’ll all probably be hungry and could use the extra food. Besides, you might not get a chance to do any cooking when you pick those guys up.”

Ryan’s face broke into a broad grin or appreciation. “Thanks, that’s a good idea.”

*****

True to his word, Jack did sleep as Ryan made his way along the streets to the highway. There were places on both the streets and the highway where he had to slow to a crawl to get around stalled cars or other roadblocks. He decided that he’d find a big wrecker truck and get at least one lane cleared to make vehicle travel easier. While he drove he munched the sandwich Selene had made for him and wondered whether she could be interested in him because he was a eunuch. He pushed the idea from his mind – he could never give her the kind of serious relationship girls – women, he mentally corrected himself – really wanted. He doubted he’d be able to satisfy her sexually, and he certainly couldn’t ever give her a baby. He decided Selene would probably be better off with someone who had a full package between his legs.

Jack was awake the instant Ryan turned the motor off. He blinked owlishly and looked around, not that he could see much in the darkness outside of the ambulance.

“We’re there,” Ryan said softly, using the same quiet, hushed tone people normally used in church. “We’re at the pick up point, I mean.” He tilted his head towards the digital clock in the dash. “It’s a little after midnight – I’d figure that it’ll be another couple of hours before they reach us here.”

“Yeah, that should be about right,” Jack agreed. He unwrapped his cold sausage sandwich and climbed out of the cab to lean against the overpass guardrail and stare out into the total darkness. “I wonder what’s wrong with this sector,” Jack murmured

“What do you mean?” Ryan asked.

“No one lives out there,” Jack said with a nod of his head. “I have to wonder why that is.”

“How do you know that no one lives out there?”

“Check it out,” Jack said taking another bite of his sandwich. “There’s not even the hint of any kind of light out there. The darkness out there is total. Everyplace where there’s people living, you’ll find some kind of light – a barrel fire, lamps or candles.” He bit into his sandwich again. “Even small light sources like candles can be seen a long way away in the darkness.”

Ryan stared down from the overpass and realized that Jack was right. There wasn’t the faintest indication of light anywhere down there. And, there weren’t any regular night sounds either. People who settled down tended to be noisy – even when they were sleeping. They’d have dogs that would bark at the faintest sound, little kids would cry from the nightmares that almost all of them experienced – those were sounds that carried a long way. Those were the normal sounds of the New World they all lived in. But, from the overpass there wasn’t the slightest sign of light or sound coming out of this sector.

Jack finished his cold sandwich and retrieved the canvas bag from the back of the ambulance. Opening it, he rummaged around in it and pulled out what looked like a camp light. He produced a roll of duct tape and went to work taping the light to the guardrail. Ryan watched silently as Jack taped an ordinary index card to the back half of the lamp and another one on the top of the lamp. Then, he switched it on. Ryan immediately saw why the index card on the back half of the lamp was necessary – without it, they would have been blinded by the powerful halogen strobe light that split the darkness.

“They should be able to see that for miles,” Ryan said impressed.

“Yeah, hopefully they’ll see it before those Werewolf goons.”

“You don’t know for sure that they’re out there,” Ryan said.

“Let’s hope not.”

Ryan gestured to the bag. “What else do you have in your bag of tricks?” He asked.

Jack shrugged noncommittally, “Oh just a few odds and ends that might come in handy.” He reached into the bag and produced a heavy-duty slingshot and held it out. “Ever used one of these things?”

Ryan took the slingshot with a broad grin. “Hey, I grew up on a farm,” he said with an easy laugh. “I could knock a crow off a branch from fifty yards with one of these things.”

“Really?”

Ryan grinned sheepishly, “Well, maybe not from fifty yards – but, I am pretty good with one of these.”

“Good,” Jack said reaching back into the bag. He pulled out a small cloth bag that looked heavy. “Here’s your ammunition.”

Taking the bag, Ryan was surprised at the weight of it. Opening it, he found that the bag was filled with lead balls that were at least an inch in diameter. “Jeez, these things could really do some damage, Jack,” Ryan protested. “Hit someone in the right place and you could kill them.”

“Then just be sure that you hit the right people,” Jack said evenly. “If you can, nail them in the balls or the knee – neither of those points will be fatal with a good hit. But, they’ll sure as hell give an enemy a good reason to break off an attack.”

“Shit, hit someone in the knee with one of these and you’ll bust his knee.”

“Yep – that’s the idea,” Jack agreed. “And, if all you can get is a head shot, take it.”

Ryan stared silently at Jack. He’d never seen this side of the diminutive genius. He had heard Bray and Dal talk about it, but he’d always figured it was just exaggeration. He remembered Bray telling him once that Jack had mixed some household chemicals that produced a toxic gas – in fact, he remembered Bray saying that that was how he had met Jack. But, he just couldn’t imagine the Shiprat who normally saved lives and invented ways to make life better having such a dangerous, cold side to him.

*****

Cullen paused on the roof and scanned the streets below. He was beginning to think that his idea of tracking the exploration team was a big mistake. So far, all he and his team had been able to see was a lot of nothing. The Werewolf turned towards the fire escape on his right and almost gasped with excitement when he saw the flicker of flashlights in the distance. It had to be the explorers that they had been trailing – he and the others had expected the explorers to maintain their course, but they hadn’t. Instead, they had suddenly turned and were headed in a new direction. He pointed out the moving pinpricks of light to the other two Werewolves.

“What’s up with them moving at night?” Jeff asked no one in particular.

“Who knows,” Kobe shrugged. “Maybe they’re late for a hook up with another team or maybe they’re passing through a hostile Tribe’s territory.”

“Who the fuck cares?” Cullen asked. “All that matters is that we know where they are and with them waving those lights around, they’ll be easy to follow.” He stared off in the distance. “We should be able to catch up with them in about an hour or so.”

*****

Bray tried radioing the ship, knowing that the ambulance would be tuned to the same frequency – at least, it should be. All he got was static – the radio had been acting up since Sasha, who was carrying it at the time, took a fall when a rusted street grating had given way under his weight. Luckily, the fall had only been about six feet and aside from some sore muscles and bruises, Sasha hadn’t really been hurt. His flashlight and the radio, on the other hand, seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage.

“Still nothing,” Bray announced.

“Man, I’m sorry…” Sasha started.

“Get off it,” Brandon said, giving Sasha a light slap to the back of the head. “It’s not like you planned on dropping through that grating. Better the radio is on the fritz than you.”

“Yeah,” Jordan agreed. “The radio’s lighter to carry than you’d be.”

“Very funny,” Sasha scowled.

“They’re right,” Bray said. He experimentally shook the radio and thought he heard a slight rattle from the inside. He looked around at the others as he started to open the back. “Guess it can’t hurt to check it out.”

Everyone crowded around, shining their lights into Bray’s lap as he removed the back of the radio and peered helplessly at the circuit board. None of them could see anything that immediately looked like the cause for the radio not working. Shrugging, Bray experimentally pressed against each of the small components attached to the circuit board. One of them wiggled slightly. Bray looked up at the faces watching him, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

“What the hell … give it a push, maybe you can seat it better,” Brandon said. “I don’t see how you can do any harm.”

“He’s got a point,” Peter agreed. “Either it’ll work, or it won’t.”

“Right,” Sasha agreed. “And since it doesn’t work now, we’ll be no worse off than five minutes ago.”

Bray shrugged. “Here goes,” he said and pressed down hard on the chip. Nothing seemed to happen. He tried to wiggle the chip again and it appeared more solidly seated than it had been before. He replaced the back of the radio and turned it back on. “Hello, hello,” Bray spoke carefully into the mouthpiece as he depressed the transmit button. “Can anybody hear me?” He released the transmit button and waited.

Nothing happened.

Bray slammed the radio down against his pack in frustration and it happened. Everyone heard the faint sound of a voice from the radio. Whooping with excitement, Bray grabbed the radio and transmitted again.

“This is Bray … can you hear me?”

“… ‘e hear ….dly hear …ou,” a voice crackled over the radio. “….se ..peat ..ver.”

“This is Bray. Who am I talking to?”

“..an …ay is that .ou?”

“Yes, yes, yes – we are having problems with the radio,” Bray practically screamed into the radio.

“.kay, … at the ….vous point …ook …or the flas… con light.”

“YOU. ARE. AT. RENSEZVOUS. POINT.” Bray repeated, articulating each work carefully.

“….s right.”

“OKAY. WE ARE PROCEEDING TO THE RENDEZVOUS POINT AS FAST AS POSSIBLE. DO YOU READ ME?”

“…we un…stan…”

“WE? WHO IS WE?” Bray shouted into the radio.

*****

Ryan looked at Jack and shook his head. “That’s it,” he said in resignation, staring at the silent microphone in his hand. “They’re having some kind of radio problems. I think they understand that we are waiting for them here – at least I hope they do.” He carefully hung the microphone back on the dash. “I wonder what happened to the radio?”

Jack shrugged. “Could be anything – it might have been dropped, the batteries could be bad … there’s just no telling without taking the thing apart.” He rubbed his chin. “But, I think you’re right – it sounded like Bray understood that we’re waiting here for them and that they’re headed this way as fast as they can.”

“Maybe when they get closer we’ll be able to hear each other better,” Ryan suggested.

“That’s possible,” Jack agreed. “For now, all we can do is wait.”

“I hate waiting,” Ryan retorted.

Every fifteen minutes, Jack or Ryan broadcast instructions to the exploration team to look for the flashing strobe light attached to the overpass and for them to head straight for it. A couple of times they thought that they heard a reply, but couldn’t be sure. When he wasn’t trying to radio the others, Ryan shone the ambulance spotlight down on the streets below. Like most of the streets in this sector, the streets were packed with cars from curb to curb. It would be impossible to get them all moved.

*****

Coming to an intersection, Sasha automatically glanced up at the street signs and noticed that they had finally reached High Street. He pointed it out to his companions. Looking to his right, Sasha squinted and saw a flashing light that seemed to hover over the horizon like a beacon.

“Looks like we still have quite a way to go,” Bray said squinting at the flashing pinprick of light in the distance.

“I make it another hour … maybe two at the most now,” Sasha said.

“Maybe less time than that if the sidewalks aren’t too crowded,” Peter said.

“Maybe we should send up a flare,” Jordan suggested.

“No – let’s not do that,” Bray said quickly. “They might think that we’re in trouble and try to get to us. They could wind up getting hurt.” He began swinging his flashlight in big circles. “But, maybe they can see our lights if we signal them from time to time.”

*****

“Look! Look out there, Jack,” Ryan called, pointing over the guardrail. “Are those lights?”

Jack stared into the darkness – even without binoculars, there wasn’t any doubt that there were a group of powerful flashlights being waved around in circles. “Yeah! Yeah – it’s gotta be them!” The excitement made Jack’s voice crack. He rushed over to the strobe light.

“What’re you going to do?”

“I want to signal them,” Jack said, his hand hovering over the strobe. “I want them to know that we’ve seen their signal.”

“Hold on,” Ryan said. “I’ve got a better idea.

Jack watched in confusion as Ryan climbed back into the ambulance, cranked it up and moved it so that the big vehicle was facing the guardrail. When the flashing red light rail and headlights lit up, Jack’s face split into a wide grin at Ryan’s sudden inspiration. Then, Ryan activated the powerful searchlight mounted to the door of the ambulance and climbed out of the ambulance.

“I think that should send them the message that we’ve received their message,” Ryan said.

“You’re a genius!” Jack screamed, rushing the big farm boy and grabbing him in a bear hug. “That’s fantastic – just brilliant!”

*****

At the High Street intersection, the exploration team screamed and felt their energy levels surge when they saw the flashing red and white lights from the ambulance. Then, a powerful spotlight cut through the night. They waved their flashlights one or time before resuming their journey.

*****

“They saw us,” Jack cried.

“They must have,” Ryan agreed. He peered into the night at the bobbing lights that seemed to be moving towards them. “It looks like they’re headed our way now.” He rubbed Jack’s shoulder. “It won’t be long now – another hour or so is all.”

Both of the Shiprats felt as if a weight had been lifted from them. Jack paced back and forth along the guardrail, never taking his eyes from the bobbing lights headed in the direction of the overpass. After about fifteen minutes of pacing back and forth, Ryan suggested that Jack take a break and have a cup of coffee. Sighing, Jack retrieved his thermos and hurried back to the guardrail. As he unscrewed the silver cup from the top of the thermos, he took his eyes from the horizon for just a moment to fill the cup. Looking back up, he felt his heart skip a beat – the lights had disappeared.

“Ryan…”

“Maybe there’s just something blocking their lights,” Ryan said as he came up next to Jack and stared into the darkness. “There’s lots of obstructions out…”

“Oh shit,” Jack said in horror as a red streak shot up into the sky. He and Ryan followed the streak and watched as it blossomed into a red cluster.

To be continued…