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    What kind of animal reacts that way?
    Will stopped again, but this time the movement continued, on both sides, edging closer to the road. Mountain lions? Not likely. They were native to the area but almost no one ever saw them. And they always hunted alone.
    He heard a low, guttural snarl.
    Coyotes. Had to be. Will saw more movement in the thickets. Branches were shaking on both sides as the pack closed in.
    The wind shifted and he caught a nauseating smell: burned rubber or hair, a heavy dose of rotting eggs. Was it coming off these animals? Will picked up a sturdy dead branch from the side of the path. Down the slope, he noticed a clearing where a mudslide had piled against the edge of the brush line.
    As he watched, astonished, impressions appeared in the mud. They were blank and round, like bony knobs. And they appeared in a pattern: two, then one; two, then one, with big gaps in between. Like a tripod working its way toward him up the slope. An invisible tripod.
    The snarling began again, all around him on both sides of the road. He heard a low gibbering embedded in the growls, dotted with glottal pulses and a guttering wheezy percussion. It sounded like some sort of language—
    Cold terror burst in the pit of his stomach. There’s only one way down from here , Will thought, and if whatever these things are cut off the road …
    Will spun around and sprinted down the hill. An instant later he heard them crash after him with a wild whooping yowl. As he neared the end of the ridge, a shadowy mass leaped over him from behind and landed directly in his path. Without breaking stride, Will swung the branch with both hands as hard as he could. The branch shattered as it smacked something he couldn’t see, and whatever he’d hit snarled in pain.
    The impact threw Will off stride. He nearly fell, but pivoted, pushed off the ground, and kept his legs churning. Whatever invisible nightmare he’d just smashed with the branch wheeled after him. The air rippled. Something sharp sliced through Will’s sweatshirt and raked across his back. A fiery spike of pain spurred him to run even faster down the winding road.
    It was getting hard to see. He could hear the things behind him, but he’d opened up some space. Desperate to extend his lead, Will headed into a sharp turn without slowing. As he planted his left foot to veer right, he hit a patch of mud and skidded. He lost his balance, turned as he fell, and—
    Wham . He landed on his left side, rolled, then stuck out his hands as brakes, skidding along the road. He stopped on the outside edge of the curve, just short of plunging over a twenty-foot drop into blackness.
    Will dragged himself to his feet and limped on. He heard nauseating yawping sounds, the snorting and snuffling of something wet and fleshy; the things weren’t more than thirty yards behind him now and closing fast. With at least a quarter mile to the end of the fire road, he’d never make it before they caught him.
    Farther down the road, a blinding light sliced through the night. A deafening throttle roared and a pair of white-hot headlights hurtled toward him, torque screaming. Was it the black sedan? He couldn’t tell.
    Will threw himself to the side of the road as the car passed, the heat of a massive engine warping the air. He caught the acrid smell of burning rubber as it spun sideways and curled behind him. But it wasn’t the sedan. Eyes blinded by the headlights, Will could only make out the black outline of the Prowler he’d seen outside the diner and its hulking driver behind the wheel.
    Flames erupted from the Prowler’s twin exhausts with a deafening whoosh . A wall of fire shot into the road behind it, and the creatures chasing Will ran straight into it. Their howls changed to revolting high-pitched squeals. Will saw writhing misshapen masses thrashing around, outlined in fire.
    The car skidded beside Will. “Get in,” growled the driver. It was the same voice he’d