'Quite possibly. However, it is all academic now.'
'Yes,' agreed Shannow absently. 'Thank you, Doctor.'
'It is a pleasure, Deacon.' Meredith moved to the window and leaned down to peer through the gap in the shutters. 'Oh, God!' he said suddenly. 'Oh, my dear God!'
Isis floated back to consciousness on a warm sea of dreams, memories of childhood on the farm near Unity — her dog, Misha, unsuccessfully chasing rabbits across the meadow, barking furiously in his excitement. His enjoyment was so total that when Isis gently merged with his feelings tears of joy flowed from her eyes. Misha knew a happiness no human — bar Isis — could ever share. He was a mongrel, and his heritage could be seen in every line of his huge body. His head was wolf-like, with wide tawny eyes.
But his ears were long and floppy, his chest powerful. According to Isis's father, Misha was quite possibly the worst guard-dog ever born; when strangers approached he would rush up to them with tail wagging, and wait to be petted. Isis loved him.
She was almost grown when he died. Isis had been walking by the stream when the bear erupted out of the thicket. Isis stood her ground and mentally reached out to the beast, using all her powers to calm its rage. She was failing, for the pain within it was colossal. The young girl even had time to note the cancerous growth that was sending flames of agony through the bear's belly, even as it bore down on her.
Misha had charged the bear, leaping to fasten his powerful jaws on the furred throat. The bear had been surprised by the ferocity of the attack but had recovered swiftly, turning on the hound and lashing out with its talons.
A shot rang out, then another, and another. The bear had staggered and tried to lumber back into the thicket. A fourth shot saw it slump to the ground and Isis's father had run up, dropping his rifle and throwing his arms around his daughter. 'My God, I thought you were going to die,' he said, hugging her to him.
Misha had whimpered then. Isis tore herself loose from her father's embrace, and threw herself down alongside the dying hound, stroking its head, trying to draw away its pain. Misha's tail had wagged weakly, even as he died.
Isis had wept, but her father drew her upright. 'He did his job, girl. And he did it well,' he said gently.
'I know,' answered Isis. 'Misha knew it too. He was happy as he died.'
The sadness was still with her as she opened her eyes in the wagon. She blinked and found herself staring at the stars. Half of the roof was missing, and she could see great tears in the wooden canopy. Her right side was warm and she reached out, her hand touching fur. 'Oh, Misha,' she said, 'you mustn't get on the bed. Daddy will scold me.'
A low rumbling growl sounded, but Isis drifted off to sleep again, the terrible strength-sapping power of her illness draining her of energy. A weight came down over her chest, her eyes opened and she saw a huge face above hers, a long lolling tongue and sharp fangs. Her hand was still touching the fur, and she could feel the warmth of flesh beneath it. ‘I can't stroke you,' she whispered. ‘I’m too tired.'
She sighed and tried to turn to her side. At least the pain is gone, she thought. Maybe death will not be so very bad after all. Isis wanted to sit up, but she didn't have the strength. Opening her eyes again she saw that the side of the wagon was also partially destroyed. Something had happened! Some calamity.
'I must get up,' she said and lifting her hand, she looped her arm over Misha's neck and pulled. He growled, but she succeeded in raising her body. Dizziness swamped her and she fell in towards Misha, resting her head on his shoulder.
A second growl came from below the bed and a monstrous creature loomed up from the floor of the cabin. Isis looked at it, and yawned. Her head was spinning, her thoughts fragmented. Misha felt so warm. Reaching out, she touched his mind. There was anger there, a poisonous fury held in check only by… by what? Memories of a hollow by a lake, young Wolvers running around his feet. A… wife?
'You're not my Misha,' said Isis, 'and you are in pain.' Softly she stroked the fur.
The second beast lunged at her. The first hit it with a backhand blow, sending it smashing against the cabin wall.
'Stop it! Stop it!' said Isis wearily. 'You mustn't fight.' She sagged against the beast. 'I'm thirsty,' she said.
'Help me up.' Pulling once more she rose on trembling legs, pushing past the Devourer and stumbling to the rear of the cabin where she almost fell down the steps and out into the yard.
The moon was high, and she was almost at the end of her strength. There was no sign of Jeremiah, Meredith or the others. No wagons camped in a circle. No fires burning. Her vision swam and she swayed, catching hold of the left rear wheel.
The yard was full of hounds, big hounds.
She saw the house, bars of golden light showing through the closed shutters. Everyone must be there, she thought. But I can't reach it.
I must! I don't want to die here, alone. Drawing in a deep breath, she let go of the wheel and took two faltering steps.
Then she fell.
The Deacon saw Meredith stumble away from the window.
Shannow stepped up to the shutters, peering out through the crack. He saw a young woman in a dress of faded blue, her blonde hair shining white in the moonlight, lying stretched out on the ground. Before he could speak he heard the door open. 'No!' he hissed.
But Meredith was already moving out into the yard.
With a muttered curse Shannow followed him, drawing his pistols. The beasts were everywhere, most lying quietly under the stars, their bellies full, but a few prowling now at the edge of the barn, or gnawing on the bloody bones of the butchered horses, milk cows and oxen. Shannow cocked the pistols and stood in the doorway, watching the young doctor make his way across to the fallen girl. Meredith was moving slowly, and for the moment the beasts seemed to be ignoring him.
A Devourer moved from the rear of the wagon and saw the walking man. A deep growl sounded and it ambled forward. Several others looked up. One stretched and howled, the sound chilling. Meredith faltered, but then walked on and knelt beside Isis. Reaching down, he took hold of her wrist. The pulse was weak and fluttering. Pushing his hands under her shoulders he hauled her into an upright position, then twisted down to lift her legs. Her head fell to his shoulder.
A Devourer reared above him, saliva dripping from its fangs. Isis moaned as Meredith backed away, the beast following.
In the doorway Shannow aimed his pistol, but now other beasts were closing in on the doctor. Meredith turned his back on them and started to walk back towards the house. Shannow's mouth was dry, his palms greasy with sweat. The doctor stumbled, but righted himself and walked on. Shannow stepped aside as he climbed the porch steps and entered the house. Swiftly Shannow followed him, slamming shut the door and dropping the bar into place.
Outside a great howl went up. The shutters on the window exploded inwards and a beast thrust its upper body through the frame. Shannow shot it through the head. Another clambered over the body of the first; Shannow fired twice into its huge chest and it slumped forward, leaking blood to the dirt floor.
The young mother lurched to her feet, screaming, 'Don't let them get me! Don't let them get me!'
Talons raked at the door, splintering the wood. Wallace Nash ran half-way down the stairs and levelled his shotgun. A section of timber on the door was torn away as a taloned arm lunged through. Wallace fired both barrels. The arm jerked as blood sprayed from it. Shannow shot through the door.
The sounds of gunfire echoed away. Shannow moved to the window, seeing that the beasts had pulled back.
'I've never seen anything like it,' said Wallace Nash. 'Son of a bitch! Man, that took some nerve.'