Page 64 of Them

“Did you think he did the right thing? At the time?”

“Oh… yeah,” Lane said, wiping away another tear. “The world would have ended one way or another with the Scorpions as our war dogs. We would have seen to that, I’m sure. It would have all turned out the same in the end. But that was when I still believed we could beat them.”

“And now?”

“That all depends. Will they keep making our same old mistakes?”

A crack of thunder, right over the top of them, heralded the opening sky. Fat raindrops came splashing down all around them, playing a staccato rhythm on the hard pavement. Tim grabbed Lane’s papers and hurried to shove them back into the old man’s knapsack, then zipped it shut tight.

Lane snatched up the lantern, and they started making their way back to the White House.

KRRRAK!

KRRAARRK!

KRRRAK!

KRRRRAAAARRRRK!

They stopped and turned to each other, suddenly oblivious to the rain.

“Did you hear that?” Tim asked, raising his voice above the storm.

“I heard something…” And then Lane was pointing over Tim’s shoulder. “Wait… look!”

Tim pivoted, eyes searching. There, between the columns of silver-white lightning that bridged the gap between heaven and hell, was a second tempest threatening to devour the city. Maybe two hundred yards away, illuminating several blocks of a westward street, a storm of whirlpool blue. Scorpion eyes.

“KRRRRRAAAAARRRRRK!!!”

“Timbo, we need to go!” Lane shouted. “Now! Did you leave anything downstairs?”

“I brought my pack and shotgun upstairs, but they’re still inside.” Tim raised his stolen pistol. “This is all I’ve got.”

“Trust me, you’ve got a helluva lot more—take it all and go.”

Tim started toward the White House, but after only a few strides, he realized Lane wasn’t coming with him. He turned back and shouted, “What are you waiting for?”

“Just go! I’ll catch up!”

“We need to get back to the safe rooms. Or we should try to reach the Metro! They can’t—”

“Stop it!” Lane charged right at him, took him by the shoulders. “Think, kid. You know any other Scorps that go out at night? Look at it, dammit, it’s coming straight toward us. Beelining it. It’s gotta be your three-eyed friend.”

Tim stared into the hurricane glow. “Can’t be. The Nightwalker’s dead.”

“If they died that easy, we wouldn’t be here.”

“So what? We can outrun it. I—”

“That thing is a goddamn bloodhound from beyond the stars! It has your scent memorized and can smell for miles. It’s not going to give up, not until it’s satisfied. Especially since you did a number on that fucker. It’ll just keep on coming. Again and again and again. Until one of you is dead.”

“We can hide, we can—” Tim froze mid-sentence.

Lane had drawn his own pistol. It was leveled at Tim.

“What the hell are you doing?” He was more insulted than alarmed.

“Saving your life. Now go! When I’m done, I’ll come find you in the Metro.”