Grimly Ryan rose to his feet and sheathed the panga. He put the SIG-Sauer away, as well, and hefted the Steyr. He strode toward the crest of the hill with the rifle cradled in his arms.
“Jak,” he called.
“Here.”
Turning his head slightly, Ryan saw the albino teen move into view on the right.
Jak had blood on his face, deep crimson against the pale flesh, but none of it looked like his. His left fist was spiked with a half dozen of the leaf-bladed throwing knives.
“Company?” Ryan asked.
“Some. No more.”
Ryan nodded and scanned the broken buildings along their back trail. Now that they knew ghoulies lived among them, the hiding places he’d spotted along the way for a strategic retreat no longer seemed so safe.
“They know,” Jak said, nodding toward the basin.
“Hard to miss,” Ryan answered.
“Yeah.”
“Keep an eye on our backs.”
“Sure.”
Ryan peered into the basin. The Slaggers had to have bolted at the sound of the first shot. The only ones Ryan saw were taking up positions behind the crumbled structures and the stacks of junked wags. The captives, the remaining man, two women and the child, hid behind a leaning section of splintered fence. Two of the Slaggers closed on them, shouting at them to stay put.
A bullet spanged off a section of brick and mortar to the one-eyed man’s right. Ryan drew back, wondering whether to chance going back to face more ghoulies or to attempt to hold the position. J.B. and the others could get clear and retreat to the dry camp they’d made that morning and wait until Jak and Ryan could get free at nightfall.
Then a harsh whistle cut through the air.
Shifting his position atop the crest, Ryan gazed into the basin again, spotting Halleck, the Slagger leader, behind one of the overturned wags. The man put his fingers into his mouth and whistled again, changing pitch this time.
A line of dogs formed along the breaks under the stacks of junked wags. Pink-and-black tongues lolled out of their white-flecked mouths. Their fur was matted and scar-torn, reflecting the harsh existence they were accustomed to.
Another whistle and the dogs rushed out of their hiding places, racing up the incline of the basin toward Ryan and Jak’s position.
“Can’t stay,” Ryan said to the albino.
Jak nodded in agreement.
Ryan pushed up from the ground and stayed low. He ran hard, driving his feet against the earth, choosing a different path back to the building where he’d left Krysty. Getting trapped up on the structure so the ghoulies and the Slaggers could surround them wasn’t the choice he would have made, but he was certain they wouldn’t be able to outrun the dogs.
Bloodcurdling baying overtook Ryan, summoning awful visions of what the beasts would do to him and Jak if they were caught. His breathing turned ragged, and each gasp was dry and burned the back of his throat.
He stayed close to the buildings, trying to keep himself as small a target as he could in case any of the Slaggers had followed the dogs up the side of the basin. An arm reached unexpectedly from one of the broken windows, and the fist at the end of it knotted up in Ryan’s shirt, yanking him off balance.
Surprisingly strong, the arm’s owner pulled Ryan up against the window as if he were a rag doll. No glass remained in the windowframe, but the big ghoulie on the other side filled it. Maybe weighing as much as 350 pounds, the ghoulie stood over six feet tall, and would have been even taller if he hadn’t been a hunchback. The eyes weren’t set properly; the one on the right was almost centered in his cheek and listed inward, looking gray and dead. He crowed in triumph, reaching out with his other hand toward Ryan’s head.
The one-eyed man didn’t try to fight the ghoulie’s incredible strength. He raised the Steyr and rested the barrel against the ghoulie’s throat. When he pulled the trigger, the creature’s head exploded in a volcano of flesh, blood and gleaming shards of bone.
Covered in gore, Ryan shoved himself back. The baying dogs sounded closer, but he gave the windows a wider berth as he ran.