Jack had a sudden urge to pull everyone out and head back to Novaton. A dark premonition stole over him, a feelin' that something terrible was about to happen, that fewer would be leaving here than arrived. But he couldn't turn back now, and he knew neither his dad nor Carl would go. They'd come too far. And Anya needed them.

One more squeeze of his father's shoulder and then he hurried back to the ruins of the Indian huts. He found himself a spot behind a thick support post. He wouldn't have thought it possible, but it began to rain harder.

Jack squatted and spread his poncho like an umbrella over the plastic bag. He removed a few of the grenades and stuck the safety clips into his belt. He pulled out the big Ruger and checked the cylinder. He didn't have a holster big enough to hold it so he stuck it in his waistband. The nine-plus-inch barrel was cold and not a comfortable fit. If Semelee got a look at him she'd probably think he was very very glad to see her. glad to see her.

But he wouldn't be. It would be just fine with Jack if he never saw her again.

He rose and started to cup his hands around his mouth when he sensed movement behind him. He whirled, pawing at his poncho, trying to get his hand under its flapping hem, but stopped when he saw what it was: a small towel, tacked to one of the hut posts, was flapping in the wind.

Jack waited to let his racing heart slow-for a second there he'd thought he'd walked into an ambush-then turned back to the water.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted.

"h.e.l.lo the boats!"

He repeated this three times at top volume before deciding that they weren't going to hear him over the storm. He pulled out the Ruger and pointed it skyward. He'd never fired one of these, and had only heard of the .454 Casull round. He knew it was a monster so he was ready for a loud report and a wrist-jolting kick when he fired two shots in the air. Even so, the boom surprised him.

That ought to wake them up.

He replaced the two rounds as he began calling again.

5.

"You'll never guess who's out there," Luke said, grinnin' and drippin' as he came in from the deck. He wore a yellow slicker and a Devil Rays cap. Corley and a couple of the other men trooped in behind him, shakin' the water off theirselfs like dogs.

Semelee didn't feel like guessin'-specially if she'd 'never' guess the answer-so she waited for him to tell her.

Everybody in the Bull-ship Bull-ship had jumped at the sound of those two shots a moment ago. It'd sounded like a cannon goin' off. Luke and the others went out to see what was up. Semelee had heard some shoutin' back and forth but couldn't make nothin' out of it due to the poundin' of the rain on the roof and sides of the boat. had jumped at the sound of those two shots a moment ago. It'd sounded like a cannon goin' off. Luke and the others went out to see what was up. Semelee had heard some shoutin' back and forth but couldn't make nothin' out of it due to the poundin' of the rain on the roof and sides of the boat.

Finally Luke told her: "It's your boyfriend."

Boyfriend? Semelee thought. What's Luke-? Oh, s.h.i.t.

"You mean that Jack guy? He ain't no boyfriend of mine. I hate him."

She did. Sort of. But that didn't keep her heart from flutterin' for a second at the pa.s.sin' thought that he'd come all the way out here in this for her. But that thought flew out the window soon as it came. He'd made it awful clear he wasn't interested in the likes of her.

"Good," Luke said. "Cause I hate him too. I hate anybody who thinks I'm stupid, and he must think we're pretty d.a.m.n stupid. Know what he said? Said he was from the Miami-Dade Sheriff's office and that he's got a whole pa.s.sle of cops out there in the dark with him."

"You sure it's him?"

"Sure I'm sure. Recognized his voice, even through the rain. Couldn't see him, but it's him."

"What's he want?"

"Says he wants the old lady back. Callin' her 'Anya' or somethin' like that."

Semelee felt her stomach plummet. "Then he knows we was there."

She went to one of the little rectangles of gla.s.s that served as windows on Bull-ship Bull-ship 's deckhouse and looked real hard into the storm. The rain splashin' against the gla.s.s and runnin' down its outside kept her from seein' even an inch beyond it. 's deckhouse and looked real hard into the storm. The rain splashin' against the gla.s.s and runnin' down its outside kept her from seein' even an inch beyond it.

"He knows somethin'," Luke said, "but he don't know everthing, that's for sure."

"But how's he know we was there?" She couldn't imagine Jack just watchin' from a window. He and his daddy woulda come out sure, probably with guns a-blazin'.

"Don't know, don't care," Luke said.

She turned and saw that Luke had opened a closet and was handin' out rifles and shotguns. He pointed to Corley.

"Get below and haul everbody up here."

"What you gonna do?"

He smiled at her again. "Gonna give him a nice warm lagoon-style welcome and make sure he don't leave the Glades-least not alive."

"That really necessary?"

As Semelee watched the men start pilin' up from below decks, grabbin' guns, and headin' for the deck, she felt a little somethin' stir in her chest. Like sadness. Like guilt. She'd taken a change of heart about Jack since yesterday afternoon. She'd tried to make him die then, but afterwards she was a little glad she'd failed. Yeah, he'd turned her down right to her face, but he'd only been tellin' the truth: I'm taken I'm taken meant he had someone else he liked better. End of story. He could've lied and then used her like she'd been used before, then dump her like she'd been dumped before. That would've been worse. That didn't make her heart hurt any less, but at least he'd been straight with her. meant he had someone else he liked better. End of story. He could've lied and then used her like she'd been used before, then dump her like she'd been dumped before. That would've been worse. That didn't make her heart hurt any less, but at least he'd been straight with her.

"I think when he don't get what he's askin' for-and he ain't gonna-then I got a feelin' there may be some shootin'. So I figure we'll shoot first."

"What if you're wrong?" Semelee said. "What if that really is a buncha deputies out there?"

"Ain't wrong. It's him, I tell you."

"All right. Say it is. What if he ain't alone?"

Luke's smile turned real ugly. "I hope he ain't. I hope he brought Daddy along." He lifted his cap and ran a hand over his scabbed-up head. "I got me a score or two to even with that old coot."

Semelee stepped back to the window. Why did he come? This storm's tearin' up the place and yet here he comes, loaded for bear, lookin' for an old lady he only met a couple days ago. What sort of man does that?

She ducked away from the window as the gunfire started outside.

Whatever sort of man Jack is, she thought with a sting of sadness, he's gonna be a dead one pretty soon.

6.

Jack had taken cover behind an old fallen trunk at the first sight of a rifle on the Bull-ship Bull-ship 's deck. Good thing too, because they'd opened up without warning. Dad and Carl had responded immediately. The element of surprise allowed them to take down a couple of the clan before the rest of them dropped to the deck to take cover behind the gunwales. The 's deck. Good thing too, because they'd opened up without warning. Dad and Carl had responded immediately. The element of surprise allowed them to take down a couple of the clan before the rest of them dropped to the deck to take cover behind the gunwales. The Horse-ship Horse-ship crew had their guns out now and the air was filled with wind and water and lightning and bullets and shot. crew had their guns out now and the air was filled with wind and water and lightning and bullets and shot.

Most of the fire from the Bull-ship Bull-ship seemed concentrated on Jack's position. Semelee's idea, probably...or Luke's...or both. He'd definitely put himself on the wrong side of those two. When Jack dared raise his head, he fired back with the Ruger. He wanted Luke. If he could take him out, the rest of the clan would lose their steam. But Jack couldn't identify him through the dim light and the rain. And even if he did, he'd be hard to hit. Jack wished he were a better marksman, but knew if by some chance he did hit Luke he'd be a goner. He was firing Cor-Bon .454 Casulls, hard-cast, flat-point, 335-grain rounds that jerked the barrel high every time he pulled the trigger. Which was okay in a way. If he missed, he wanted to miss high. He didn't want one of those big rounds to plow through the hull and hit Anya. seemed concentrated on Jack's position. Semelee's idea, probably...or Luke's...or both. He'd definitely put himself on the wrong side of those two. When Jack dared raise his head, he fired back with the Ruger. He wanted Luke. If he could take him out, the rest of the clan would lose their steam. But Jack couldn't identify him through the dim light and the rain. And even if he did, he'd be hard to hit. Jack wished he were a better marksman, but knew if by some chance he did hit Luke he'd be a goner. He was firing Cor-Bon .454 Casulls, hard-cast, flat-point, 335-grain rounds that jerked the barrel high every time he pulled the trigger. Which was okay in a way. If he missed, he wanted to miss high. He didn't want one of those big rounds to plow through the hull and hit Anya.

The fire on Jack's position became so intense he didn't dare raise his head to return it. These guys were good shots. When a lull came, he belly-crawled back to the old huts and took a position behind a post. Maybe from back here he'd be able to take the time to aim and make his shots count. He glanced back at that towel flapping in the rain, thinking it ought to be one d.a.m.n clean piece of cloth by the time this storm is done.

Lightning flashed as he turned back to the boat, revealing a design on the fabric that caught the corner of his eye. Something familiar about that pattern of lines and dots...

Whatever it was caused a ripple of nausea, and a chill, as if something has crawled under his hood and whispered across his neck on spider legs.

Jack fixed his gaze on the cloth, waiting for the next flash, and when it came he saw the pattern again and knew where he'd seen it before.

On Anya's back.

With his blood sludging in his veins, Jack rose and stepped over to the cloth, ignoring the lead whistling around him, because it had to be a cloth, a cloth someone had drawn on, copying the pattern they'd seen cut and burnt and punctured into Anya's back. He reached out and touched it, and when his fingers flashed the message that this was too thick and entirely the wrong texture for cloth, he slumped to his knees in the mud. Somehow he managed to hold on to the Ruger.

A sob burst from his lips, but the grief that sp.a.w.ned it lasted only a few heartbeats before a black frenzy boiled out of the vault where he stored it and took over. Repressing a howl of rage, he rolled back to the post and found his plastic bag of grenades. Breath hissing through bared teeth, he s.n.a.t.c.hed one from within, pulled the pin, popped the safety clip, and waited, counting...

One thousand and one...

The note Abe had included with the grenades said the M-67 fuse gave a four-to-five-second delay between release of the clip and detonation.

...one thousand and two...

It also said each grenade had a kill radius of fifteen feet and a casualty radius of about fifty. Dad and Carl weren't much beyond that but he was only peripherally aware of the risk. His focus was tunneled in on the Bull-ship Bull-ship and nothing was going to pull it away. and nothing was going to pull it away.

...one thousand and three!

As soon as he hit three, he lobbed the grenade up and out, then ducked behind the pole. If it hit the deck and exploded, great; if it exploded above the deck, even better.

But he didn't wait for it to hit before pulling another from the bag. He was popping the clip when the first went off. He poked his head up as he started counting. His throw had been short by maybe half a dozen feet, but not a complete loss. It had exploded at deck level and the screams of the wounded and frightened shouts of the rest were music.

...three!

This one sailed toward Horse-ship Horse-ship -no need for them to feel left out-and it too fell short, but not without doing some damage to hull and human alike. -no need for them to feel left out-and it too fell short, but not without doing some damage to hull and human alike.

It looked so much easier in movies.

Jack was ready to pop the clip on a third when he heard someone thrashing through the underbrush to his right. The fact that whoever it was made no attempt at stealth left him pretty sure it was his father, but he raised the Ruger anyway. Sure enough, seconds later, Dad burst from a stand of ferns in a crouch and dropped down beside him.

"What the h.e.l.l are you doing, Jack?" His eyes were wide; rain ran down his face in rivulets. "Anya's in one of those boats!"

"No, she's not, Dad," he said through a constricting throat. "She's dead."

He frowned. "How can you know that?"

"I found a big piece of her skin hanging back there."

"No!" he gasped. Jack couldn't see his complexion but was sure it had gone waxy. "You can't mean it!"

"I wish I was wrong, but I saw her back the other day and the same marks are on that piece of skin. They skinned her, Dad. They f.u.c.king skinned her and hung it out to dry."

Dad placed a trembling hand over his eyes and was silent a moment. Then he lowered the hand and thrust it toward Jack's sack of grenades. His voice was taut, strained.

"Give me one of those."

7.

Semelee lay tremblin' on the floor, head down, hands over her ears. It sounded as if war had broken out. Those weren't just guns firin' out there. With the explosions and the way the windows was shatterin', it felt like they was bein' bombed.

Luke fell through the door, grabbin' onto a bleedin' shoulder.

"They got grenades, Semelee! They're killin' us out there! Corley's dead and Bobby's leg's bleedin' real bad! Y'gotta do somethin'!"

"What can I do? Devil's dead and Dora's no good on land."

"The things from the sinkhole, the ones you brought up last night...we need 'em now. We need 'em bad!"

"I can't! I told you before-they won't come up till after sundown."

No matter how she'd tried yesterday, she couldn't get those awful winged monsters to come out of the hole while the sun was up. But as soon as it went down, they were hers-or so she'd thought.

She'd almost lost it when she first saw them. She hadn't been able to get a good look at them while they was down in the lights, but once they was up in the air, in the twilight, what she saw scared her so much she almost dropped her eye-sh.e.l.ls.

The most horrible lookin' critters she'd ever seen.

They was the size of lobsters-not the crawdad-like things around these parts; no, these was thick and heavy, like the big-clawed ones from up north. These things had sh.e.l.ls and claws too, but that's where the likeness ended. Their bodies was waisted, like a wasp's, and they had wings, two big transparent ones on each side, sproutin' from the top of the body like a dragonfly's.

Chew wasps-that was the name that popped into her head, and it seemed to fit them perfect.

Plus they had teeth. Oh G.o.d did they have teeth-each had big jaws that opened wide as a cottonmouth's, and they was filled to overflowin' with long sharp transparent fangs that looked like slivers of gla.s.s. One of the weirdest touches was the rows of little blue dots of lights along their sides that glowed like neon. They looked like they'd been drug up from the bottom of the sea where the sun don't shine, a place so deep and dark that even G.o.d's forgot about them.

G.o.d...he must've been havin' a real bad day when he made those things. She had to wonder what kind of a world they came from, and how anything else survived with them roamin' free.

"It's dark as night out there now! Give it a try! You gotta! They're putting holes in the hull. They're tryin' to sink us!"

"But why're they tryin' to do that? Why're they throwin' grenades, Luke? If they think we got the old lady and they want her back, ain't they afraid of killin' her along with us?"