Chapter 3 #3
The newcomer spoke first, his voice a low rumble that hurt her ears. "What are you doing in our territory?"
Scarface's jaw tightened. "Passing through."
"With a female." The newcomer's red eyes fixed on Michelle, and she felt like prey being sized up by a predator.
Both groups turned to look at her. Eight pairs of red eyes, all focused on her like she was a piece of meat they were deciding how to carve up. Her grip tightened on her walking stick, knuckles white against the dark wood.
The newcomer stepped closer, close enough that their chests nearly touched. Scarface's nostrils flared, his upper lip peeling back from his teeth. The newcomer answered with his own snarl, fangs gleaming in the dim light.
"She's ours now." The newcomer reached out, moving to grab her.
"No! Mine!" Scarface's roar split the air as he lunged forward, intercepting the grab.
Hands slammed into chests. Snarls erupted from both groups. She found herself caught in the middle as huge bodies pressed in from all sides, all trying to claim her. A hand grabbed her left arm—one of the newcomers. Another clamped on her right shoulder—Tank, pulling her back toward his pack.
Pain shot through her leg as she was dragged between them. The walking stick slipped from her grip, clattering to the forest floor. Fuck. They were going to tear her apart like this.
"Stop!" she gasped, trying to fight them off, but her voice was lost under all the growls and threats.
The newcomer's companion—a feral with heavy scars covering half his neck—grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back to leer down at her. "Pretty little thing."
Twitchy's claws were out now, the lethally-sharp tips pressed against Scarred-Neck's throat, drawing a thin line of blood. "Let. Her. Go."
Tank's claws dropped with soft snicks, three inches of razor-sharp death aimed at the newcomers.
Hands yanked her in opposite directions.
Her left arm stretched toward the new pack.
Her right shoulder pulled back toward Tank's group.
The fabric of the splint gave way with a soft ripping sound, and the bones in her leg shifted, grinding against each other.
White light exploded behind her eyes, and she fought to stay conscious.
Then the sky opened up.
What had been a light drizzle turned into a torrential downpour in seconds. Water cascaded through the canopy in sheets, instantly soaking through her clothes and turning the forest floor into a slippery mess. The temperature dropped like a stone, and shivers racked her.
But it was the sound that made her blood run cold.
A low rumble, growing louder. Not thunder.
Something else. Something that made her brain scream warnings.
She knew this area. She'd studied every contour line, every elevation marker, every drainage pattern when they'd done the preliminary surveys for the construction project.
This whole section was a natural funnel, with steep slopes channeling runoff from the mountains above into a series of narrow valleys.
Flash flood zone. Extreme risk during heavy precipitation events.
The survey report's warnings slammed back into her memory as the rumble grew louder. Water and debris, thousands of tons of it, roaring down from the mountain slopes, turning every creek and gully into a killing machine.
"We need to get to higher ground!" she screamed over the storm. "NOW!"
The ferals were still snarling at each other, still caught up in their territorial dispute. They didn't understand. They didn't know what was coming. But finally, her screams got their attention.
"The water!" She pointed uphill, where the first muddy torrents began to snake between the trees. "It's going to kill us all!"
Scarface looked where she was pointing, and his face went white. The newcomer spun around as well, and his eyes widened at the approaching wall of brown water.
"RUN!"
The word exploded from multiple throats at once.
The territorial dispute evaporated as survival instincts kicked in.
Hands grabbed at her… not fighting over her now, but hauling her uphill.
She didn't fight their hold. She needed them right now.
There was no way she could outrun the flood on her own.
The roar drowned out everything else. Behind them, trees cracked like gunshots before crashing down. The ground bucked under their feet as water tore through the forest, ripping new paths between the rocks behind them and carrying away everything in its path.
"There!" The newcomer pointed to a rocky outcrop about fifty yards uphill. "The rocks!"
Tank threw her over his shoulder, and she clung on for dear life. The cold air cut into her chest with each gasping breath. Behind them, the flood was gaining ground, a brown wall of destruction that devoured everything in its path.
One of the new group—a younger feral with fewer scars—stumbled. He went down hard, his ankle twisting with a wet crack that she heard even over the roar of water.
"Help!" he screamed, reaching toward them as he tried to crawl up the muddy slope on his hands and knees.
The other feral leader spun back toward his fallen packmate, but the water was already there.
It slammed into the injured feral, picking him up and hurling him downstream like he weighed nothing.
Arms and legs flailed as he fought the current.
His head broke the surface once, maybe twenty yards down, mouth open in a scream she couldn't hear over the roar.
Then a tree trunk the size of a freight car rolled right over him. Nothing came back up.
"No!" The new feral leader started after him, but one of his group grabbed his arm and hauled him back.
"Gone! Move!"
Twitchy's feet went out from under him on the muddy slope. He hit hard, fingers clawing at the wet earth. The soil turned to mush in his hands, giving him nothing to grip. Water wrapped around his legs and started dragging him back toward the torrent.
Twitchy thrashed against the current, his red eyes blown wide. For a second, it looked like he might pull it off. His fingers locked around a root, and he dragged himself halfway up the bank.
Then a tree trunk slammed into him. The impact punched him back under the water. When the debris cleared, there was nothing but brown water churning where he'd been.
They hit the edge of the rocky outcrop just as the water slammed into the area where they'd been standing. She dropped against the wet stone, chest heaving. Her leg felt like someone was driving nails through the bone. She twisted around to look back at the destruction.
Below them, the forest had become a raging river. Nothing could survive down there.