Nightfall (33 page)

Jenna.
Her mate filled her head with warmth.
Mitch wasn't wrong. Trust that.

Ange let out a quiet sob and wrapped an arm around her neck, squeezing until Jenna saw spots. “I'm sorry,” she said. “You're still my friend. Please ... be careful.”

“It's out of my hands now,” Jenna choked out.

Penny raised up with a dreamy smile and kissed Jenna on the cheek. She'd thought the kid was asleep, but there she was, listening the whole time. She wondered what else Penny had overheard. Did she know what it all meant? She didn't seem scared. Thank God. The girl didn't deserve to spend her last hours in terror.

Jenna turned to Chris as Ange slipped away. “You're the answer man. Maybe that doesn't seem like much right now, but you're here for a reason.”

As she finished, Jenna realized she meant it. They all contributed complementary aspects, everything interlocking and working toward the survival of the whole. The old paradigms would fall away, giving birth to something new. Change didn't have to be fatal, not if the organism was healthy and strong.

Chris nodded. “Thanks.”

She couldn't read him like she did John, so she didn't know how to take the strange look on his face as he turned to go.

Tru held up his hands. “Don't even try to get emotional with me, woman.”

Jenna grinned. “Okay. You know what I'd say anyway.”

“Whatever.” His pale eyes flicked away and blinked a few times.

“So,” John said, “I need one volunteer for the bombs. The other watches the door.”

Mason slung the satchel of two dozen wrapped cans of machine lubricant over his shoulder and readied his rifle. The ax lay heavy between his shoulder blades, as did the bag of spare magazines and flares. Safety goggles pinched against the skin of his forehead. Beside him, Tru held his own weapon as if he'd been born with it. Admiration and a profound sense of sadness kept Mason from meeting the young man's eyes.

Where she waited in the doorway, Jenna looked tense and wary. She'd stood there for an hour with her finger on the trigger, cool green eyes examining every shadow just beyond the safety of the basement. “You boys ready?”

“Sure,” Mason said. “We got company yet?”

“Not that I've heard. And I can hear them a long way off now.”

“Good. I'll go through first.” He leveled his AR-15 and stepped in front of Jenna in the doorway. “I won't be able to move as fast as either of you, not with all this gear. Just think of me as a tank. Got it?” They both nodded. “And if you shoot me, it won't be just a bullet wound. I'll go boom.”

Tru shrugged. “As long as Harvard stays put, you're good.”

The day when they'd arrived at the station seemed years gone. The cabin, the pre-change world—they'd faded like black-and-white photographs. Only the moment mattered. Mason caught Jenna's eye and looked at her for one long, searing breath.

She nodded, acknowledging all he hadn't said. “Let's get this done.”

He edged through the doorway, swinging the barrel of his rifle left and right. A quick check of the two generators there in the original wooden anteroom confirmed that the hoses had been gnawed into strips. He hoped that if they lived through this, Chris would be able to use the new spare parts to get the backups in working order again.

Too far ahead
, he heard Jenna say.
Stay with us.

Mason inhaled. She was right. He hadn't been so scattered in a long time, if ever—perhaps because the stakes were so high. Yet that distraction would get them all killed.

He pulled out a flare, struck it against the heel of his boot, and threw it out of the anteroom, where it landed with a quiet clatter. Leading with the rifle, he pushed into the tunnel. On the all-clear, Jenna and Tru followed and flanked him.

Illuminated by the harsh orange glow of the flare, the long, low-hanging underground cavern waited to their left. The hot spring stream ran along a sunken gulley at their feet, half obscured by stalagmites and rock formations. Water dripped from the tight, arched walls, sporadic but as constant as the flare's even hiss. Shadows stretched in warped arrays along the rock outcroppings.

“Where are they?” Tru whispered.

Mason frowned, easing deeper into the tunnel. They edged farther away from the subbasement entrance. After Mason popped the third flare, there was enough natural light to see. Grim and solemn, he felt more like he was attending a funeral than standing on the verge of the most important battle of his life. No more bloodlust. No more fear. Just a resignation that left him light-headed.

Jenna raised a hand. “Listen.”

In a burst of claws scratching against rock, monsters barreled toward them. The scraping echoed. Hectic shadows flickered down the far walls. Mason raised his rifle and fired. Sound slammed in his ears, the bursts like cannon fire in the confined space. Demon dogs yelped and fell. Tru cussed the things, but Mason didn't look at him, just kept his eyes on the targets. He trusted his partners enough to ease into the rhythm of combat. Sight. Fire. Pump another round.

“Reload in shifts,” he shouted. “Tru, you first.”

He and Jenna closed up as Tru fell back two steps. The three of them traded places over the next minute. Then they pushed forward. Each slavering assault fell beneath their defensive fire. No wasted ammo. No hesitation either. Mason glimpsed the exit, where dawn light filtered through.

“Hold up,” he said as the beasts regrouped. “We have to get to where the tunnel meets the ravine. We'll be better able to control the outcome—seal the tunnel without damming the water source.”

Jenna's breath came fast but controlled. “There'll be more.”

He tipped his head toward the station. “Tru, I want you here. No arguments. Be ready to end any that get through on your side.”

“What do you mean on my side?” the kid asked.

Mason flicked his eyes to the four-foot-tall exit. “We'll head out and make our stand. Seal the entrance.”

After reloading, Jenna pumped her rifle. “What about the water supply?”

“We take a chance. If they get inside, we're all done.” He shrugged out from the satchel of explosives. “With these, we make the choice. Tru, keep the walkie on and be ready to let us in.”

Appearing unsure for the first time, the kid nodded slowly. He met Mason's eyes. “Good luck, man.”

“You too.” Mason watched him back up a few steps before turning to Jenna. “Now you. Out. Through the tunnel. Clear the way so I can set the charges.”

“Shit, no.” Jenna lifted her rifle as if she'd rather use it on him than obey. “I'm not leaving you. That's the deal, John.”

“What, so we can both die here, trying to do this? That doesn't make any sense.” He opened the satchel and placed the canisters along various rock ledges, wedging some of them in ceiling cracks. “You're a hell of a lot faster than I am. Get clear and circle back to the front door.”

Her mouth twisted. “Why? Why would I do that?”

“Worst-case scenario, and this fails, you'll have no power. No heat. And the tunnel might not be sealed completely. Dogs'll get in or you'll freeze to death. Maybe both. You're all they have, Jenna. Any chance—
any
chance of surviving—will evaporate if we both die.”

“I'm not—”

“Enough!” Patience gone, he backed her against the slick, curving wall. “I'm your mate? All that matters?” Her shoulders tensed beneath his hands. “I feel it in you, sweetheart. You'd leave them all. Get me clear, get us both safe. After what you said to me in the woods—you'd do it, wouldn't you?”

“Yes!”

“And if you had to do it again, would you open the door to a scared bunch of strangers?”

“I—”

“Shut up. I see it in your eyes and it makes me sick.” He grabbed her chin and leaned in close, anger and deathly fear making his hands shake. “Would you have Chris use my gun? I wonder who he'll do first, Penny or Ange.”

Her nostrils flared on a sharp inhale. “That's not fair.”

“It's the truth. You said you loved her little girl, but you'd put Ange through that? I don't believe it. Not of you.” He smacked the wall with his palm, glad he could still make her flinch, glad his anger still counted for something with this new version of Jenna. “Because if I'm so goddamn important, why'd you let me send Tru away? Why not ask him to set off the explosives?”

“Stop it, John.” Sharp fingernails cut into his forearms. “The only way any of this makes sense is if you're still here. With me.”

He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her in for a fast, hard, desperate kiss.

“I've changed too, you know,” he said. “
You
did this to me. Two months ago—fuck them. Just you and me, right?” He ran a thumb along her swollen bottom lip. His own smile felt numb. “But we need them too. The whole world's gone to shit and we
need
them. You know that.”

“Our pack,” she whispered.

Mason tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Worries that had consumed him for weeks cleared out in a quick rush. He could no more protect her now than he could save himself. He simply had to trust that she'd make it, and that he could carry on if she didn't. Their obligations had grown larger than two people. And if she lost sight of that, she wouldn't be his Jenna.

“I thought I'd lost you,” he whispered harshly. “But I kept going—for them. You made me promise, remember? I'm not going to let you give up on what's right either, not now. I love you too much to see you abandon that part of yourself.”

She bared her teeth, but tears shone in her eyes. “You tell me you love me, then say I could lose you. That's
cruel
.”

“Everything's gonna be fine. You'll see.”

“You never sugar-coated it for me before.”

“That's the truth—the truth I need to hear.” After one last kiss, he hauled her away from the wall and gave her a little shove. “Now get out. Don't let me down, Barclay.”

For a moment, he didn't think she'd go. She stood as fiercely angry as he'd ever seen. He could see the wolf shimmering within her, the animal snarl and raised hackles. A glow kindled about her lean, trembling body. For a frightening minute, he thought she was about to shift.

Then she closed her eyes and mastered the urge. Jenna planted a kiss on the side of his neck, just below his left earlobe. He touched that place as she bolted out of the cave, her weapon leveled.

Gunfire echoed outside, along with the howls of the dying. Mason turned back to the satchel of explosives, trusting that she'd protect his back while he set the remaining charges. With everything in place, he crawled out into the faint, pale light of dawn. No beasts. No sounds. No sign of Jenna. Now he hoped that the damn canisters would work.

“Be ready, Tru,” he shouted back into the tunnel.

He pulled the rifle to his shoulder. At that range, through the scope, every target was huge. He chose the center canister, then picked the next six pockets he'd hit. One time through, like a dress rehearsal, he aimed at each one in turn. His muscles would remember, even if he couldn't see.

Once the tunnel mouth collapsed, well ... all bets were off.

Mason exhaled. And pulled the trigger.

Jenna slid down the hill, keening her fear to the sky. Not for herself. For John. He'd worn the expression of a man who thought it might come down to personal sacrifice. She needed a live lover, not a dead hero. Firing a few warning shots, she took off running, still screaming. She didn't stop until she got the attention of the monsters around the tunnel entrance. Then she paused only to shoot one. She'd upgraded her marksmanship from fair to pretty damn good.

A fierce and mournful howl arose from the rest. Two tore into the fresh corpse with slavering fangs, while the rest decided fresh meat looked more promising. The hunt was on.

Jenna ran.

“Draw them away. Easy for him to say.”

What sounded simple enough in theory proved scary as hell in practice. She scrambled up the side of the ravine and ran toward the distant trees. The snow made her footing tricky, hiding threats that would be obvious during any other season. A root tripped her and she landed hard. Half of her spare ammo went bouncing away. No chance to recover it.

He needed to set off the explosives without the beasts snapping at his concentration. Any mistake would prove disastrous. The entrance needed to be sealed, no question. If humans weren't to go the way of the woolly mammoth, she would run like she never had before.

Dogs snarled and snapped behind her. Jenna didn't think about what would happen if the pack caught up to her. As she hit level ground, she spun and shot, dropping another one on blood-spattered snow. Red over white. The stark colors stayed with her as she burst into motion again. They raced a bit closer every time she tripped or paused to get a sense of direction. The death of their comrades didn't faze them at all.

But every monster she downed thinned their ranks. Jenna used the trees, weaving with an expertise born of familiarity. She'd weathered a number of bad situations in these woods. This wouldn't be the last.

In the distance, an explosion rose up like a phoenix. He'd done it. Praying John was safe, she just had to survive this game of hide-andseek.

Jenna pressed into the low boughs of a pine tree, despite the prickle of the needles. The sap wasn't running, but the smell was pungent enough to queer her trail. Any delay to let her catch her breath. If she found a tree that could bear her weight, she might shimmy up and go all tower sniper. No, bad idea. She'd be trapped when the ammo ran out, and she couldn't count on rescue.