Still, even now, she couldn’t say what it actually looked like … because the human brain tried and tried to fit it into some sense, some pattern, but failed utterly. There were eyes, horrible gelatinous eyes that somehow weren’t eyes at all; there was a body that was not a body. What she registered as clawed hands was probably something else again, something worse, but it was the biggest warning her uncomprehending brain could screech at her, and she reacted instantly.

She pulled the trigger.

The impact slammed the stock of the shotgun against her shoulder so hard that she felt something crack—bone, probably—and a white snap of pain sizzled through her from neck to heels. At the same time, the roar of the shot hit her like a physical slap.

But that was nothing compared to what the silver did to the draug.

The pellets didn’t have time to spread far, but tore a neat circular hole four inches across straight through the draug’s—well, head, she supposed, was the nearest equivalent. There was a shriek of high-pitched agony, and then the draug collapsed in a wet slap as it lost all consistency and shape. Claire yelped as she leaped out of the way of the wave of its … corpse? If it was dead, which she couldn’t assume. But it wasn’t coming for her, and that was what was important.

There were more of them, rising out of hidden pools in the muddy yard, out of the drain in the street, condensing out of the rain itself.

Oh God. There were so many.

The sound of Shane firing as he pushed forward shocked her into pumping her shotgun, raising it, and firing again. It hurt, but she kept it up, racking and firing again and again. Shane was clearing a path to the truck, so she concentrated on keeping the draug away from the sides. She fell back behind Theo and Harold, keeping them as safe as she could.

The draug didn’t really care about humans; too little gain for them, so it was Theo she really had to worry about. They’d kill to get to him, of course, but unless Harold got in the way he’d be all right … for now. She killed, or at least discorporated, at least five draug before they reached the truck.

Theo didn’t get in. He stood aside, calm as ice water, as Harold scrambled up first. Claire and Shane took up positions on either side of him, firing to keep the draug away, and even though her ears were ringing and her heart racing, Claire could hear another shotgun going off. Naomi was keeping them away from her side of the truck as she waited.

Finally Theo jumped up and into the bed of the truck, and Shane followed last.

Now he tossed the shotgun to Theo, unhooked the nozzle of the flamethrower, and hit the ignition button.

Claire gasped and dived for the driver’s side of the truck. Naomi let fly with one last blast at a draug ten feet away, then slid over, and Claire climbed in. Had she thought the truck was too tall before? She didn’t even remember jumping up this time.