The trees along the stream were sparse enough to allow a little moonlight to filter through them and illuminate the scene. She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle a gasp. Two hundred yards away, a pack of hybrids were slowly crawling along the bank of the nearby stream, sniffing the ground. In the green backlight of the NVGs, the glow from the creatures’ eyes was unmistakable.
She could definitely make out three of them for sure, but there could have been more. They were moving slowly, following the exact route she and Declan had taken earlier that day. As much as she wanted to believe that they’d keep following the stream and pass her and Declan by, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. It was only a matter of time before they reached the shelter.
She glanced at Declan. He was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the danger they were in. With her low on ammo and Declan in a self-induced coma, the fight would be over before it started. Once she was dead, the hybrids could do anything they wanted to Declan. She wouldn’t let him be tortured the way Ivy had, not when there was something she could do about it.
Kendra flipped up her goggles and leaned over to kiss Declan hard on the lips. He didn’t respond, but she liked to think he could sense her. “I love you, my big, gentle teddy bear, and don’t you ever forget it.”
She kissed him again, softer this time, then gently wiped away one of her tears that had fallen to his cheek. She wished she could write him a note, so he’d know what had happened to her, but there wasn’t time for that, even if she had something to write on.
She traced her fingers along his scruffy jaw, regretting all the things she hadn’t gotten a chance to say. But another clatter of rock on rock from down by the stream reminded her that she had no time for this. She grabbed her M4, dropped her NVGs back into place, and eased out of the shelter.
Kendra knew she couldn’t go directly toward the hybrids. She needed to lure them well away from Declan before she tried to take them out. That way, if she failed—which was pretty likely—Declan would still have a chance. Best case, they wouldn’t be able to find him at all. Worst case, at least she’d give him time to wake up.
She closed her eyes and tried to get a feel for which way the wind was blowing. Ivy had taught her the trick of turning until you felt the breeze on your cheeks, and it pretty much worked. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like the wind would carry her scent down to the hybrids. If she moved slowly and carefully, and didn’t make any noise, she stood a good chance of getting away from the shelter without them realizing that she was there. As fast as her heart was beating, she’d be amazed they hadn’t already heard it.
She turned parallel to the stream and headed away from the hybrids, which meant she was going in the same direction they were. Moving quietly along the rocky slope she was on proved difficult while wearing her goggles. The less-than-stellar depth perception the things provided made avoiding all the stones damn near impossible. But she did it, at least long enough to get out ahead of the slow-moving hybrids before slipping down toward the stream.
She turned to look over her shoulder. It took a few moments to find them in the dark. Three of them were crawling along the ground on their hands and knees, sniffing as they went, while a fourth walked beside them. Crap, she could recognize the one walking—it was Marcus’s second-in-command. And he was leading his group of hybrid bloodhounds right toward Declan’s hiding spot.
They were moving at a slow pace. If she was trying to escape, she very likely could have, but that wasn’t what she was trying to do.
It was hard to tell for sure, but the hybrids were probably getting close to the section of the stream where she and Declan had headed up the slope to their makeshift shelter. If the creatures were locked on a good scent, they’d be turning up the slope any second.
She needed to get their attention before they reached that point.
Flipping up her goggles—she’d never be able to hit anything with them on—she hefted her M4 to her shoulder and sighted at the