The phantom pain in R.J.'s side flared with a sharpness he hadn't felt in years. The bullet wound used to act up, usually in the middle of the night, waking him from his sleep. It throbbed as though the hunk of lead was still in there, grinding between his first and second rib. His doctor had told him it was all in his mind and when pushed, said in a humoring way that maybe the scar tissue was causing some irritation. It had been a dull, wincing pain just above the spot where his elbow rested.

Now, it felt like flesh of his lower chest had just been seared open by the slug from Aikman's gun all over again.

Maybe the sound had invoked the memory. It was the last thing R.J. heard before he lost consciousness on that fateful day in the Observation Center. As he bled out, Amy had howled. She was howling now. Not that he really heard it. There was too much clatter to pick out the howl with his ears. No, it was something that vibrated the marrow in his bones, crawled along the hair follicles that stood on end, and turned his insides into wet clay.

He had spent many days and night in his office building up a tolerance for the effect of her howl, but that was a long time ago.

Had Amy turned? Could he blame her with all the soldiers who flooded the shore? Even in wolf form could she survive against so many? Could they survive against her?

Nikki crouched next to him, her hands clasped over her head. She looked like she was cowering from an anticipated blow. The howl ended and her body remained clenched up but her facial features loosened from their tight scrunch. As the muscles relaxed, she looked like she was going to cry.

"It's okay. It's going to be alright," he said, wrapping an arm around her.

They were alone on the boat. Wiley and Emily were gone. He glanced down the dock. There was mayhem as the soldiers bolted. In the canal, a long black Zodiac had crashed into post wedging itself between it and the retaining wall. The four men clad from head to foot in black struggled to free it. One gave up and dove into the water swimming for the open sea. The other three soon followed.

It was as though they were being controlled by a hive brain, each individual following the same imperative. On water or land, each was trying to get away as quickly as possible, heedless of their own safety or common sense. Men ran past idling vehicles, choosing to scramble across the terrain instead.

"What's happening?" Nikki asked. "What the hell is happening?"

R.J.'s mouth was dry as flint and couldn't form words. What could he tell her that would make an ounce of sense anyway?

They were safe with the government in retreat. But for how long? From his own experience and the limited tests they'd performed in The Music Box, the effects of the howl were temporary. It would wear off and then they would come back.

Amy could always howl again and send them away once more. Or perhaps a snarling, bloodthirsty lycanthrope built for the sole act of killing would make them keep their distance. Maybe they'd choose to avoid the bloodbath waiting for them.

He imagined her standing, back arched, fur bristling, panting saliva through the maw of razor sharp teeth. Part of him wanted to go out there to her, even with the danger. It was still Amy. He had told her he'd keep her safe.

Nikki struggled to her feet using his arm to steady herself. If he went after Amy he'd have to leave Nikki here. He couldn't take her with him, not with the lycanthrope loose.

He couldn't save both.

R.J. looked over to the corpse. Bill's body lay by the helm. The top of his head pointed toward him, thin salt and pepper hair showed glimpses of a pink sun baked scalp. He was supposed to be enjoying retirement, finally free from a cubical, taking tourists fishing in the hot sun. Max had told R.J. it was his fault for involving him.

Who would he get killed next?

"We have to go." With a speed of purpose, he didn't know he could summon, R.J. sprang to action and untied the Manana from its mooring. With a twinge of regret he stepped over Bill and started up the engines. It had been a while since he piloted a boat but the season on Lake Champlain wasn't completely forgotten. He pulled the vessel away gently until they cleared the boat in the slip next to it, then he gunned the engines, driving it out past the row of ships and the roaring fire of the helicopter cradled in the hull of yacht.

Nikki stood next to him and looked out at the gulf. The black smoke tinged the sunset in apocalypse colors. It glimmered on the water making it look like millions of fish scales flashing along the surface.

Back in the OC, it had been Amy who saved him. She'd torn her assassins to pieces and her howl had given him the chance he needed to take down Aikman. He had to trust that she could do the same now.

"I know I have a lot to explain to you," R.J. said. "Once we're safe. I'll explain everything."

Her hand held onto his shoulder, to comfort him or to support her still wobbly legs, he wasn't sure.

"I have a lot to explain to you too."

R.J. took one last look at the shore. There was no girl. No wolf. He gave a silent prayer for her safety and wondered if he'd ever see her again.

***

The ground was soft enough to drag the speed from Amy's steps. The road off to her right would provide better support and let her move a lot faster than this grassy sand. But the last light of day glared across it like a spotlight. Amy ran along a line of reed-like trees which cast long shadows and covered her in cool darkness. She wished that there were real woods so she could move silently through them but these were nothing but a thick tangle of young trees and overgrown weeds filling in a swampy ravine. She could see houses on the other side through the choppy flicker of branches.

Her body was in action but her mind anesthetized. A jarring tingle filled her as though she had stuck a finger in a light socket. Her nerve endings were raw from the power that had coursed through them. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, more like muscle fatigue after a good workout, achy but deeply satisfying.

She had made them all run. Little Amy Westgate had commanded them to go and they did. It was a happy thought but a scary one too. She didn't want to consider it too closely. Consequences loomed just beyond her grasp.

The marina was fading away behind her and the air was beginning to clear. The intensity of the sea was being replaced by the smell of earth, and plants, and men.

She had left R.J. behind. She hadn't thought about him until that moment. Hadn't really thought of anything. Not where she was going or what she was going to do when she got there or what she would do if the men with rifles came back. Her body had done all the work. It ran away.

Yes, she thought. I'm running away.

That's what her body was doing and not chasing prey. The wolf did that. She was still human, she didn't do those things.

She only opened her mouth and made people run for their lives. Nothing abnormal about that.

Amy skidded to a halt at the edge of a hollow. The ground dipped away into a five foot ditch. Dirt tumbled in sprinkling against the leg of one of those awful men.

He was hurt. His right foot stuck out at an odd angle. Now that she saw him she caught the odor of panic sweat and the honeyed tang of distress. He was huge. At least, six-five and as big as linebacker. He was loaded down with equipment and body armor. He had a black mask that covered his head except for his eyes. Eyes that grew wide like a cartoon character when he saw her.

"No-no-no-no-no," he stuttered and threw himself at the opposite bank and scrambled up. When he tried to push off with his bad foot, he let out a sharp squeal and slid back down.

He's terrified of me.

Good.

He'd killed Katie. Or one of his friends had. He deserved to be the one scared for a change. He deserved to have his insides ripped open and his entrails slowly pulled out. His sweet flesh flayed from his body with her teeth.

Amy bolted away from the ditch circling around to the open plain between the shadow of the trees and the road where the last orange rays of the day splayed across the course grass. She moved even slower now, a stumbling jog. Air didn't seem to want to fill her lungs. She was on an alien planet with almost no atmosphere, gasping for oxygen.

A whining buzz filled her ears. It took her a moment to realize it was something real coming at her and not another element of her malfunctioning body. She turned and saw a motorcycle bouncing along the ruts in the grass.

Why run? She knew she couldn't outpace it even if she was able to breathe properly.

As it got closer she realized it was Emily on the bike. First Katie now Emily, it was a regular reunion. She was too exhausted to make sense out of how it could be. But she was happy she wouldn't have to fight.

Emily pulled to a stop beside her. Her motorcycle was once brightly painted red and white. It was chipped and scratched, a spray of dried mud caked the gas tank.

"Oh geez, kid. You don't look so good." She placed a hand on Amy's forehead. A hand that smelled of mouth-watering blood. "You're warm. They hit us with some freaky weapon. We're all a bit shaken by it. You'll be okay." She said it in a mom way. Amy wasn't sure Emily really believed it and she knew she didn't believe it. But she was grateful to hear the platitude all the same. "Do you think you can ride? Get on."

Emily helped her up onto the seat behind her. Amy wrapped her arms around her thin waist and when the bike started up she pressed her face into her back. She should feel Emily's arched spine on her cheek through the thin T-shirt.

"Now let's get the hell out of here," Emily screamed over the buzz of the engine.

Away, she thought. Time to escape again. The one time she had stopped running since leaving The Music Box, she almost killed the only boy she'd ever kissed. Running seemed the only safe thing. I wonder if I'll ever be able to stop.

***

Author's Note: Well that's the end of the big action chapter of the book. But it's not over yet. There is still a lot more to come (at least a few chapters anyway) . Up next, a fan request—you asked for it, you got it—Chapter 9 is "Kevin's Story."