I drag him another couple of feet. I’m only a few feet from the gate when one of the hogs rushes me from behind. Its snout strikes the back of my leg. Tilting its head, it chomps down on my calf. Pain streaks up my leg. The animal shakes me. My balance totters. I drop Kaufman’s hand and barely maintain my balance.

“Get off me! Get away!” I punch the animal hard. The sow releases my leg and continues past, then turns to stare at me with bold, intelligent eyes.

Five feet away, the boar watches me, chomping its teeth.

“Kaufman!” I shout. “Get up!”

The boar charges. Despite its size, the animal is agile and fast. Shoving its snout beneath Kaufman’s shoulder, it roots upward with so much force that the man is flipped onto his side. It’s not until I see blood that I realize he’s been slashed with the tusk.

The old man screams. “The gate! Open it!”

The sow circles for another pass. I step back, keeping her in sight. Another shot rings out. I hear the bullet strike flesh. Kaufman jolts. Vivid red blooms on the fabric of his sleeve and dribbles onto the concrete. His scream rents the air.

I risk a look at the loft door to see Abigail lining up for another shot. “Drop the rifle!” I scream. “Drop it! Right fucking now!”

Another gunshot, followed by a ricochet a foot from where I’m standing. Specks of concrete hit my trousers. Spinning, I run toward the gate. I’ve only gone a few feet when the boar rushes me, rooting the air, its tusk flashing white. I kick it in the snout with my boot. The boar bellows but retreats.

I vault over the top of the gate. A curse grinds from my throat when my injured wrist slams against the ground on the other side. I roll and lie still. For an instant the only sound comes from my labored breaths. The grunting and squealing of the hogs. The wail of a siren in the distance.

Using the gate for support, I get to my feet. Abigail Kline stands at the loft door, staring into the pen below.

“Abigail, drop that rifle!” I shout. “Do it now! Drop it!”

A muffled scream sounds from the pen. Bending, I look between the rails of the gate to see that the hogs have surrounded Kaufman. The larger animals dart in, rooting and slashing. The smaller animals squeal and vie for position. The old man is sitting up, slapping at the animals with both hands. Terror on his face. Mouth open in a silent scream. A big sow lunges at him, slashing at him with her mouth. The scream that follows is horrific. The sow retreats, a bloody scrap in her mouth. A strip of material from his shirt. Horror burgeons inside me when I realize they’re mauling him.…