Suddenly he was through the trees and in a clearing. Willing his body to move faster despite the burning in his lungs and the ache in his legs, Knight closed to within shooting distance once again.

A grove of trees separated the clearing from the camp where an unknown number of researchers hid from the weather. He needed to stop Ridley now.

Taking aim, Knight ignored the loud crack of trees behind him as the golem entered the clearing. He ignored Ridley’s phony shouts for help. The rain. The lightning. The thunder. All his attention was on his aim. In the fraction of a second when his running body reached the top of a step he pulled the trigger. The bullet spun out of the gun barrel, cut through the rain, and covered the distance to Ridley.

A large chunk of flesh exploded from Ridley’s kneecap. He stumbled, lurching forward. It was the pause Knight was hoping for. He stopped running and took careful aim.

The golem charged across the clearing. Geysers of mud burst into the air around its heavy, stumplike feet. It reached out.

Knight unloaded a full clip of ammo into Ridley, striking his legs and head several times.

Ridley fell in a heap, landing in a patch of grass.

The golem fell with him.

It landed facedown with a boom that rivaled the thunder. Carried forward by its momentum, it slid through the grass and mud, pushing up a mound in front of it. It stopped only feet from Knight’s position with a pile of earth half covering its head.

Knight looked back at the golem, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

Lightning lit the scene.

The golem was immobile and in pieces.

And Ridley was …

Knight ran to the flattened grass that marked Ridley’s fall. Something was there, but it wasn’t Ridley’s body. He knelt down, turning on his flashlight. A gray mass in the shape of a man’s body rest atop the grass.

“What the…”

Knight put his fingers in the material. It was cold and wet. He scooped some up and rubbed it between his fingers. Then he smelled it. The scent brought back memories of digging the stuff out of river bottoms as a child. He knew what it was, and what it meant.

Hearing Bishop and Queen arrive behind him, he turned to them.

“Did you get him?” Queen asked, catching her breath.

Knight stepped aside, showing them the mass of wet, gray material. “It’s clay,” he said. “This wasn’t Ridley. It was a golem.”

Chapter Fifty-Eight

FIFTY-SEVEN

Wiltshire, England