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her, even from under the pile of furious, chewing creatures.
    Charlie gave up barking and lay down next to Betty, his small head resting against her arm. He whimpered constantly, while shifting his back legs as if deciding to run or stay.
    “Nana...” This time is wa s faint. Lennie was confused and in pain, and losing a lot of blood.
    Betty was grateful for the dog; where he lay was right in her line of sight – she could no longer see her grandson dying.
    She also hoped he died quickly, and they left nothing of him, because she knew when she changed, and became an eater, he would be the first thing she would head towards – that is, right after the small dog.
    The sound of ripping flesh and cracking bones drowned out the dogs whining.
    Betty muttered the last lines of the nursery rhythm, “But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn, and hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the lawn...
    “ Nana loves you... I will see you again soon...”
     

 
    14
     
    Noah, Red, and the Squad
    Dartmoor National Park
    Princetown
    Inside Dartmoor Prison’s Museum
    3:25 PM GMT
     
     
    N oah stumbled as he ran backwards through the museum’s door. Red tripped, but kept her footing, as she released her grip on Noah’s hand, and shook Bull’s hand off her arm.
    Gunshots continued to echo around the confines of the room.
    “Get the door secure,” the Captain shouted, as he walked backwards, firing at the charging mass.
    Echo sprang back, closely followed by Coco.
    With a final blast of his rifle, that removed the top of a naked, young male teenager’s head, Coco swung the heavy door shut.
    “The lock has been smashed off, get me something I can wedge the door closed with,” he said to Echo through laboured breaths.
    Echo scanned the area around the front door.
    The museum was a large, long room, with a high ceiling with thick wooden beams. The floor was skimmed, painted grey concrete. There was a main aisle through the middle of the room, with displays to either side.
    “Here,” Echo said, as she grabbed a long piece of wrought iron, which was hanging on some pegs, it was two inches thick and was part of some original section of prison bars on display.
    Coco wedge the bar through the two handles.
    The creatures smashed themselves against the thick glass panes. The glass held – for now.
    “This way,” the Captain announced as he headed down the wide aisle.
    Noah stared through the mass of thrashing creatures. He could not see Lennie or Betty in the car park. He turned and followed the others.
    There was a section of keyring’s and hand painted objects to the left. To the right a visitor could get their photo taken, like an old mug shot. The Captain did not check to either side, but headed towards the display cabinets at the back of the room.
    Even given the situation, the room seem ed depressing, as if the objects contained within held the despair of the inmates, as if their emotions had saturated the very concrete and metal.
    The Captain led them to a section containing glass cabinets, chockfull of weapons created by the inmates – axes forged from metal, knuckledusters, knives, shivs, shanks, spikes, and nails, an array of items created to kill or maim. The section was called the ‘Black Section,’ a nickname given to the illegal weapons made by the prisoners.
    “Here, help me Bull.” The Captain stood next to a tall case. Inside, a dirt-smeared manikin – with a terrible fake, lopsided beard – was dressed in a prisoner’s uniform dating back to 1916 that looked like the material from a badly sown, coarse, itchy sack. A sign hung around the manikin’s neck, stating he was a Conscientious Objector, one of the eleven hundred confined in the prison for refusing to fight in the First World War.
    Noah realised the banging on the front door had stopped. The silence was even scarier than the creatures tossing their bodies against it. He tried not to think about Betty and Lennie.
    Red was twisting and