Grand didn't have a weapon. The only nearby object he might be able to use was the grate.
"Get under the truck!" he yelled at Hannah.
As gunfire exploded around them, Hannah scrambled toward the truck while Grand crawled in the opposite direction. Standing on his knees, he hoisted the heavy grate chest-high, facing out. He thrust it forward as the cat bore down. The saber-tooth's fang struck the iron bars with a clang.
The cat backed away and Grand stayed with it, pushing hard, focusing his moat, crying with fury as the cat hissed its own desperate rage. Grand wanted to work the fangs between the bars and trap the creature, leave it helpless until the police got the situation under control and he could tranquilize the animal, save at least one of the saber-tooths. In the midst of everything he was careful to keep the grate head-on. He was afraid that twisting it to one side or the other might cause the fangs to snap off at the gum line.
Suddenly the cat lowered its head and pushed forward, knocking Grand back. The saber-toothed cat put its front paws on the grate, jerked its head back several times, and pulled free of the bars. With a roar, it charged Grand. The scientist rolled under the truck next to Hannah, sliding under just as the saber-tooth swiped at them from the side.
Hannah screamed and hugged Grand, half in fear, half in relief. Grand held her as he looked past her. There were cats and men on the other side, panic and deafening gunfire on all sides. Grand saw the bloodied bodies of several cats and the mangled bodies of at least seven police and National Guardsmen lying side by side under the glare of the emergency lights.
"Do you see the Wall?" Hannah asked anxiously.
"He was over by the Jeeps," Grand said. "I think he's okay-"
Just then, Grand felt hot pain rip against one of his legs. He looked back and saw a huge set of claws. The saber-tooth was working its way under the truck, its large paw on its side and scratching furiously. He squirreled in a little more; going any farther would put Hannah too close to the other side.
Grand needed to find a weapon, something to keep the cat at bay. He noticed the discarded fire extinguisher several yards out on the opposite side. It was lying on its side near the driver's-side door.
Releasing Hannah, Grand crawled toward it. As he emerged, the cat roared and came around the front of the truck, twisting nimbly between the hood and the wall of the garage. Grand reached the fire extinguisher, rolled onto his back, pointed the nozzle, and discharged a snowy burst at the cat. The animal recoiled and shook its head violently. Grand fired again. As he did, gunfire droned from somewhere behind him. The barrage knocked the cat against the wall, pinning it there for a moment. The cat howled with pain and surprise as its tail slapped roughly from side to side. Then it dropped.
Grand's ears rang with the quiet. The air was heavy with the smell of musk and gunpowder.
The scientist crept back to the truck, stretched a hand to Hannah, and helped her out. Hand-in-hand, Grand and Hannah walked to the back of the truck. There were five National Guardsmen still standing. Lieutenant Mindar was one of them. Everyone else, all the policemen, were dead. So were the cats. Blood was leaking from under the bodies of men and saber-tooths, collecting in larger streams and trickling slowly toward the drain.
Mindar walked over to Grand. The lieutenant looked pale. Perhaps he wasn't; perhaps be only seemed that way because of the bright blood splashed on his cheek and forehead. He called for medical assistance and men, told two of his men to stand by the holes and watch for more cats.
"Are you okay?" the officer asked Grand and Hannah.
"Sure," Hannah said.
Grand nodded.
Grand excused himself and took a quick walk around the truck where most of the fighting had been centered. Hannah looked toward the exit ramp and saw the Wall standing between two of the Jeeps. She raised her hand weakly. He waved back and started walking toward her. The rest of the surviving National Guardsmen were hurrying around the garage and checking bodies, looking for any sign of life. Not that there was much they could do. The wounds were savage. Some of them appeared to have been caused by friendly fire.
Grand returned suddenly and was about to say something when Captain Mclver's radio came on. Mindar retrieved it. The voice on the other end was hot and screaming.
"Captain, this is Lieutenant Carr! Are you receiving?"
Mindar picked up the radio. "Captain Mclver is down. This is Lieutenant Mindar of the National-"
"Lieutenant! We're at the public garage on Ogden. We need backup now."
The raspy pops of gunfire came over the radio and drifted down the ramp a moment later.
"What's wrong?" Mindar asked.
"They're like ghosts! Leaping-vanishing! I don't know if we can hold them-"
The radio went silent.
"Lieutenant Carr?" Mindar repeated.
Silence.
"Lieutenant Carr?"
"I'm going over," Grand said.
"What the hell is happening there?"
Grand ran toward the exit ramp. "The pride elite have arrived."
Chapter Seventy-Six
The dead cats were all seven-footers and all males. Because there was nothing distinctive about them, Grand had suspected the leader was not among the dead. The police report from the museum seemed to confirm that. And the police lieutenant had said there were cats, plural. The Chumash painting showed twelve and only ten cats had been killed so far. That meant the leader had at least one lieutenant.
A quasi-military structure among animal predators. The leader, the general, remaining somewhere else and watching the fight. Participating only when he had to. Some pack dogs and insects like ants had that kind of organization. But for cats to be operating at this level was unprecedented.
Grand reached the ground level and ran across Wilshire. Lieutenant Mindar and three of his soldiers were close behind with Hannah and the Wall running after them. Squads of police were arriving now from Beverly Hills along with deputies from the West Hollywood District Sheriff's Station. They were sealing off the streets and setting up skirmish lines along several blocks on all sides of the tar pits and its surrounding buildings.
Several of them intercepted Hannah and the Wall and kept them from going through. Grand was happy about that, and ignored her shouts for him to get her through. He didn't want to have to worry about her. There was only one thing he wanted to focus on: saving the last of these creatures. He didn't know how, but there had to be a way.
The scientist ran past the Page Museum and then past the Los Angeles County Art Museum. The three-level, concrete parking garage was across the street from the art museum.
Grand saw police officers along the lighted sides on all levels, firing into them.
On all levels, he thought. There were more than two cats.
The men were firing into the center of each level, shouting instructions to one another and moving here and there to pin what were obviously very fast-moving creatures. There were columns and parked cars, which were obviously making it difficult for them to hit the creatures.