Episode Twenty Blaketon

C haska

We've talked it to death for the last forty miles. Our plan is as good as it's going to get. Shan and I each have a pistol, the other two guys have the shotguns.

"Shotguns are good," Ro says. "You don't need great aim. Point and shoot and some of the pellets should hit your target. Shan? You got the list?"

"Memorized," she says. "I may not have been allowed to work for a while, but I have a doctorate. My little female brain is still capable of remembering all the items on the list."

She's not mad at us, I have to remind myself. I'm sure we're all at the end of our ropes. She's got her very life hanging in the balance from what that woman on the newscast said.

As soon as the car's in park, the four of us jump out. Alex and I stay by the car as Ro waits for Shanna to pump the gas, then accompanies her into the general store. The plan was for him to inspect every aisle, then leave Shanna to it as he came back outside to fend off any comers.

The boom of his sidearm startles me, although, truth be told, part of me expected it. To our credit, Alex and I stand our ground, just as instructed by Ro who immediately calls, "Hold tight."

The bad news is that gunshot just announced our presence to every mutant in a five-mile radius. I'm not sure I've ever been this terrified, even this morning when those two lion-people were attacking me. That time, it was just my own safety on the line. Now it's my family's.

Ro emerges from the store, which rings the fucking old-fashioned bell on the door. As if the gunshot wasn't loud enough.

"A monkey-thing," he says, his ears swiveling as he listens for more monsters. "Dead."

He grabbed a few items from the store and stows them in the cargo compartment, then fills a couple of cans with gas. We keep guard on the perimeter while Shanna runs through her list. She tosses two bags of stuff out the front door, says, "Just a few more things," and goes back in for what I hope is the last time.

"Shan?" I call, the tone of my voice giving my fear away. "Don't come out until we tell you."

I knew there was a good chance locals might accost us, but I did not expect a pack of wolf-guys. There must be twenty of them.

We're so far in the backwoods, I wonder if the inbred motherfuckers looked any more civilized before their genes mutated.

"Back off," Alex shouts. "We don't want any trouble."

The big black wolf, who looks very similar to Alex, says something completely unintelligible and doesn't miss a step. None of them even slow down.

I don't see guns in any of their hands, but there are twenty of them and three of us. I can smell Roman's fear—that's a new skill, my ability to scent emotions. Poor guy. I have to give him credit. He's standing right here, although I imagine he's using all his self-control not to take off like a rabbit, running into the grassy field nearby.

"Hand over your guns," the wolf in front says as he grimaces.

Grimace? I think that might be an attempt at a smile. Does he think we'll just disarm ourselves because he asked nicely?

"Back off," I counter. "Get the fuck out of here and we won't shoot you."

"Shotguns. Not the best choice," the guy says with a shrug. This time I can understand him loud and clear. "Two shots and you're done. There are twenty of us. After our change, I don't think we'll die from a shotgun blast unless you hit us directly in the chest. I doubt any of you can do that even if you did manage to steal that police cruiser."

We have Ro. That's one secret weapon. And we have me. I figured out how to breathe fire in front of our house.

"Back off. You don't want to see what comes next," I say, though I know my threats won't do any good.

"What's going to come next," the wolf says, "is we're going to kill you, and then whoever of us is left is going to come inside the female hiding in the store. Whatever they made us for, it appears breeding is at the top of the list."

He shows his teeth again. This time, it's clear he's not attempting to smile.

I've heard enough. Now it's just a matter of waiting for them to come closer. I don't know how the fire-breathing thing works, what my range is, or how long I can maintain it until the flamethrower function no longer works.

I step around the car, not wanting to burp and accidentally set the thing on fire.

"Attack!" the leader says, and not just the twenty we saw, but maybe ten more stragglers who were hiding in the tall roadside grass all come toward us at once, howling with menace.

"Hold!" I tell my husbands.

The moment I think most of the monsters are in range, I roar and mentally will the fire to escape my mouth. Thank the lord, it works.

What was a trickle of flame this morning has turned into a blaze now. From one second to the next, I learn how to direct it. Ro, Alex, and Shanna, who has emerged from the store, are picking off the assholes at the periphery.

As we finish off anything still moving, Shanna gets busy shuttling goods from the store to the car. When all our attackers look dead, we toss all our loot inside the rear, I pile in next to it, and Ro lays rubber as we careen onto the main street, make a U-turn, and hightail it back onto the highway.