Pandemonium

me, a slab of pitch black against the slightly lighter sky. I dodged right, remembering that the path started just behind the cabin. I threw myself forward, spinning to avoid trees that materialized out of the dark, inches from my face.

Something crashed through the bushes next to me. I stifled my own scream and leaped away from it. My right foot came down on something slick—log, moss-covered rock?—and I went down again, off balance. I came down backward. The battery pack hit first, wedging into my spine, and then my head whipped back and struck a rock with a sound like a hammer going through ice. The impact stunned me, but I wasn’t dead. The helmet had saved my life. A shape appeared above me. Arms grabbed my shirt, hauled me to a sitting position.

“Are you doing this, Del?” the commander hissed. “Are you doing this?”

You’re making a terrible mistake, O’Connell had told Stoltz. I tried to shake my head, but my neck muscles wouldn’t respond.

“Passover,” I said.

“What?”

“Blood over the door.”

The commander pulled me erect, and dragged me onto the wooden pier. The soldier I’d slammed into ran toward us out of the woods. He hadn’t picked up his flashlight, but the Taser was in his hand, swinging wildly.

“Shoot it!” the commander told the man.

The soldier leaped onto the pier, stopped. “Shoot what?”

The commander pointed toward the shore. “Anything!” The soldier obediently turned and dropped to one knee. He held his little Star Trek gun with both hands, aiming down the length of the pier. I should be safe. Louise had made the sacrifice for me, hadn’t she?

Put the blood over the door. But the Human League had no such protection. Their rooms hadn’t been made up. They were intruders here.

“Toby protects this place,” I said.

“Who’s Toby?” the commander said.

A slab of white flesh launched from the water beside the pier, rose in a spray of water. Blacksmith arms thrown wide, goggled eyes black and glinting. His mouth stretched open, inhumanly long, loosehinged as an orca’s. The soldier didn’t have time to move. He was struck and carried over the side of the pier before he could even scream. The two of them splashed into the black water and disappeared.

“Toby,” I said. But it wasn’t. Not now. “The Shu’garath,” I said. The commander looked at me, aghast. The copper wires stitched into his face caught the moonlight. “See?” he said. “See?”

He grabbed the cables attached to the back of my helmet and yanked, pulling me off my feet. The battery pack banged again into my lower back. He dragged me backward toward the end of the pier, splinters slicing into my forearms and wrists. I screamed, swore, shouted, my voice high and keening like a toddler throwing a tantrum. I kicked my legs, trying to dig my heels into the planks, but he yanked me along without difficulty.

“It never ends,” he said. “The terror never ends. We can’t live like this, Del. We can’t live with these monsters.”

Behind us, at the midpoint of the pier, a white hand gripped the edge, and the Shug pulled itself effortlessly up. It turned, opened its mouth, and roared.

“Stop!” I screamed. But I didn’t know who I was screaming to. Both of them. Everyone.

“I’m sorry, Del,” the commander said. “We can’t live like this.”

He jerked me to my feet, and tossed me backward over his leg. For a moment I was airborne, looking back: the commander on the edge of the pier, bent with the effort of his throw, his eyes on me. And behind him, the huge figure of the Shug, slouching toward the commander, mouth agape. I struck the water. Icy water engulfed me and I grunted in shock, coughing air. I thrashed, trying to bring my arms out from behind me, but the plastic cuffs were unyielding. The weight of the battery pack pulled me down, reeling me into the dark.

. . .