Episode Sixteen The Difficulty Factor Doubles

R oman

I've performed some death-defying feats on the police force which took extreme courage. I managed to feel the fear and do it anyway. Nothing has been as difficult as the last few hours.

Whatever hormones or chemicals or whatever is coursing through my body is the most powerful thing I've ever felt. Terror.

When Shan closes the refrigerator with a bang, it causes panic. The clatter when she pours a bunch of ice into an ice chest makes me jump. When Alex growls because he's having trouble loading bullets into the gun due to the length of his claws, it's all I can do to keep from running out the front door. Don't get me started on the way my insides turn to liquid when I simply glance at Chaska.

I need to get a hold on this. It's going to be Jedi-level mind over matter, but I must do it. We're going to be smashed into a car for the next four hours, possibly fighting marauding bands of… I have no idea what could possibly be out there when there's a fucking dragon in my bedroom.

"Two cars or one?" Shanna asks from the doorway. "I see pros and cons for both. I saw Escape from New York three times. If someone shoots flaming arrows or throws a Molotov cocktail at one car, we can pile into the spare. On the other hand, there's safety in numbers if we stick together."

Funny she should bring up that movie. What's happening in our lives is definitely post-apocalyptic.

"I vote one car. I think we're stronger together," Alex says.

"Me, too," I say. "Let's take my police van."

All three heads whip in my direction.

"What? I was a mess yesterday and after I threw up at the immunization station—twice—the chief told me to take the vehicle home for the night."

"I vote we take the bullet-proof police van," says Chass. "You got rifles in the rear?"

"Two 12 gauges," I say, loving how talking about something on which I'm the authority gives me a much-needed confidence boost.

The car is sixty feet from the front door. By the time we're ready to make a run for it, the sky is turning gray, with dawn around the corner.

The mutants, monsters, I don't know what to call them, are stirring out there. Getting to the car won't be easy.

"There's a gazelle-guy out there. A weird choice for North Carolina, though no weirder than an elephant," Chass calls as he peeps through the blinds. "I don't think we need to worry about him. It's the lion stalking him that's concerning me."

Zap. Another bolt of fear streaks through me despite my efforts to return to my previous hard-ass, cop self.

"Here's what I think," Chaska says with authority. All three of us pay attention. He's clearly become the pack leader. "I'll go out the side door and up the street with a handgun. My blue-green, scaled, winged self will hopefully attract enough attention from the predators for the three of you to get in the car. Alex? You get in the driver's seat. Ro, grab the rifles and you ride shotgun."

Yesterday his pun would have made us laugh. Today he's met by three grim faces.

"Shanna, you're in the backseat. Coolers go in the rear. We'll sort it all out when we're out of danger. The moment the three of you are locked inside, come get me. I'll jump in the back."

I don't like the plan. It's full of potential danger, but it's the best any of us can think of.

"Oh," Chass adds after glancing through the blinds again, "that dead gazelle attracted another lion-guy. I wonder which vaccination station was administering shots for African veldt predators? It looks like the difficulty factor just doubled."