It was Daniel’s turn to take Rebeka by the hand and pull her toward the bay doors. She was too stunned to protest.

They fled the garage for the main road out of the compound. No telltale winks of sniper scopes in the towers that dotted the fence line. In the distance, a scream was cut short and replaced with an electrical crack. Rebeka and Daniel kept running.

Eventually, Rebeka’s feet slowed as they approached the guard post at the entrance. Daniel slowed with her, then tossed an anxious glance over his shoulder. Liam was running toward them with his face wrenched wide.

“Don’t stop!” he shouted. “There’s more of them coming—”

A horrific cacophony shredded his words as, behind him, twisted, blackened versions of the Nazis they’d passed in the compound corridors began to stream from the garage.

Liam . . .

“But the guards—” Rebeka started.

“They’re all dead, or good as. RUN!”

That was all she needed. She charged on, Daniel close behind.

They passed the guard post and found it deserted. A slimy hunk of meat was collapsed on the side of the dirt road, raw, skinned fingers still clutching a rifle. Rebeka slowed just long enough to rip the rifle from what was left of the flayed guard’s hands. Don’t think, don’t think, just run. She hugged the blood-slick rifle to her chest as she raced toward the other side of the fence and the trees beyond it, Daniel and Liam behind her—and behind them—behind them—

Rifle fire pierced the air with a fierce whistle and then a thud. Rebeka screamed for her brother reflexively, terror like acid eating through her chest. “DANIEL!” She spun around, but he was still behind her.

Another bullet sang out, and another of the horrible Nazi-creature hybrids fell—

“Keep running!” Daniel called.

Rebeka did. But too late, she turned to see just what she was running toward. She had just enough time to register the boy’s face—wide-eyed, white teeth, and a mouth rounded in a shout—as she plowed into him head-on.

CHAPTER NINE

PHILLIP

The town of Siegen was wedged into the forested valley like a tick. Steep slate rooftops crowded around battered copper spires, but the military administration building, that whitewashed hulking monstrosity, was the easiest to spot: it was the one currently on fire. Thick, woolly black smoke blotted out the twilight as Phillip and Simone edged along the ridge. Just down the slope from them, the compound’s perimeter was fenced in with razor wire. But the shadows prowling the fence’s edge were not guards.

“Not again,” Simone said.

Phillip unclipped his sidearm and crouched against a nearby tree. “The army really should’ve mentioned these things in training.”

“Up ahead!” Simone called.