He started sobbing. “I don’t wanna die, Jack. Please don’t let her—”

And then his head plunged below the surface. Jack tried to dig in his heels but the bottom was too slippery. Another powerful tug pulled Jack forward so hard he went face first into the water. He was only under for a few seconds, but during that time he lost his grip on Carl’s hand. His feet found the bottom and he stood again, shaking the water from his face and eyes. He was shoulder deep now.

“Carl!”

Nothing. No reply, nothing but empty, wind-and rain-swept water stretching before him. He shouted the name again and thought he saw a hand break the surface and claw the air maybe fifty feet away. But it was there for only a second—if it was there at all—and then it was gone.

“Oh, Carl,” he said softly, staring at the spot. “You poor bastard. I’m sorry. So sorry…”

A lump formed in his throat. A good, simple man was gone. Jack had known him just a couple of days, but he’d come to respect him. He still didn’t know what had gone wrong with Carl’s right arm, but that didn’t matter. Carl hadn’t let it stop him from leading a useful life. He’d adjusted, with no apologies, no excuses.

A bullet whizzed by Jack and he realized he was a sitting duck out here.

My fault, he thought as he quickly waded ashore. If I hadn’t bribed him to take me to the lagoon, if I’d just said no tonight when he wanted to come along, he’d still be alive. Probably be sitting in his trailer right now watching his TV.

My fault. But not all my fault.

It’s Semelee…she’s controllin’ them.

Right. Semelee.

Jack reached the bank and climbed up onto the mud. He looked toward the cenote and saw maybe twenty of the winged things clustered over the opening. As he watched, they began to fan out and glide toward him.

His blood cooled at the sight. No way he and Dad could bring them all down, even standing back to back with shotguns. Some of them would get through. And once they got you down, you were finished.

Couldn’t stop the winged things…but maybe he could stop the one controlling them.

With the things trailing him, Jack ran back to where his father was still firing at the boats. He heard cheering from the decks as the clan spotted the winged things on Jack’s tail. They didn’t shoot. Probably thought it would be more fun to watch him get gobbled up like Anya.

“Behind me, Dad! Incoming!”

Dad was crouched behind a tree, with the trunk between him and the boats. Jack dove for the ground, sliding through the mud on his belly as his father looked around.

“Where?”

“Right behind me!”