Jeff Rovin - Fatalis

Grand still had the concrete wedge. He was about to charge again when Captain Mclver appeared in the opening.

" Stand clear !" he shouted.

Grand froze, then jerked back as the officer fired his MP5 into the cat's head. The saber-tooth's eyes widened and it rose on its hind legs as though it wanted to charge. Its head struck the roof of the fissure, leaving blood on the stone. Then its powerful hind legs just folded; the cat fell back down at Gearhart's feet, lifeless.

The sheriff wasn't breathing either.

"Come on!" Mclver said, extending a hand.

One of the other officers arrived then and covered them. Tar was now pouring over the lip.

Grand threw the concrete aside and dropped beside Gearhart He slipped his hands under the sheriff's broad shoulders and pulled him back under the opening. He stood, still holding the body. Blood was running down the sheriff's legs, pooling with that of the dead cat.

"Help me," Grand said.

Mclver reached in. "Aw, shit," he said. "Shit. Shit."

As Grand was passing the sheriff's body out of the hole, he felt a change in the fissure.

Warmth, coming at him in waves.

The fire was extinguished, and the cats smelled death , he thought. The death of one of their own .

They were coming.

Hannah ran over and dropped beside Grand. She looked down at the mauled body of Malcolm Gearhart.

The sheriff was dead; there wasn't any doubt about that. But Grand knelt beside him anyway, one knee on the ground, feeling frantically for a heartbeat, then for a pulse, then for a sign of breath.

He finally gave up.

"It's not your fault," Hannah said. She had always hoped to write a farewell to Gearhart, but not this way.

"I told him not to go in."

"I know," Hannah said. "But the sheriff had to do things his way. You couldn't change that."

As they bent over Gearhart, Mclver sent two officers to collect the body. Then he called for medical teams to be waiting by on Curson. Meanwhile, Mindar's team moved in. The scratching sounds and long, low hisses rose from somewhere below. It sounded to Hannah like a door to hell had opened and unimaginable demons were crawling forth.

The Wall came over but he didn't take any pictures. He stood there with a shellshocked expression and made the sign of the cross as the two officers ran over with a canvas sheet from the back of the truck. They wrapped it tightly around Gearhart's body.

Grand put his arm around Hannah and stood. "Come on. We'd better get back."

Hannah looked out at the soldiers who were forming a skirmish line beside the truck, men squatting in front and others standing behind them.

"I'm sorry about this," Hannah said to Grand.

Grand nodded and hugged her close. Then they, the Wall, and the two police officers carrying Sheriff Gearhart's remains ran forward. There was blood on Grand's hand and forearm. As soon as they got behind the line, Hannah pulled him down and checked to make sure the blood wasn't his.

It wasn't. Grand had stuffed his handkerchief halfway into his pocket. Hannah pulled it out and began wiping the blood away.

The sounds were getting louder. Or maybe they only seemed louder because everything else was so silent.

Captain Mclver was standing between his team, which was on the truck, behind the barrels, and the soldier.

"Pick them off as they come out of the hole," Captain Mclver said softly. "We don't want to tag the first one and have him fall on the others."

Grand looked anxiously toward the soldiers' backs. He tried to rise but Hannah was still holding his hand. She pulled him down and gently turned his face toward hers.

"Don't watch," she said.

"Hannah, how can I just let this happen?"

"You did everything you could," she said. "It all happened too fast and people are dying."

There was a sound behind her. Hannah turned. It was coming from the drainage grate. It had been too small and indirect for the men to go through. But tigers were not men.

"Jim?"

He looked back.

"When we were on the truck Gearhart said something about tributaries," Hannah said.

"He was right."

"Do you think this room drains into the underground water system?"

"We'd have to check the building plans-"

Just then the heavy iron grate flew from the opening. It spun through the air like a tossed coin and crashed just feet away from them. A golden-furred head appeared in the bright lights. A moment later saber-tooths began leaping into the garage.

The Army National Guardsmen turned. So did the police. Before they could fire, more cats rushed them. "Watch your backs!" Grand yelled.

Still crouching behind the truck, Grand threw himself on top of Hannah to protect her. He managed to steal a quick look back at the Wall, who had gone over to the Jeeps to take a picture of the garage. The photographer leaped behind them when the cats emerged.

When Grand shouted, Mclver turned back toward the original hole in the concrete. He saw two more cats running toward them. He swung his weapon around as the cats leaped the truck in a muscular bound and landed on the other side. Mclver drove a flurry of bullets into the cat's underbelly and it landed on the truck, amidst the leaking barrels of tar. The other made it across and came down on Mclver. The captain fell back, his ribs cracking audibly. The cat simultaneously turned and leaped at the officer standing next to him; the animal's takeoff crushed Mclver's pelvis. The officer tried to turn and fire but the cat's fangs pulled his arm away at the shoulder. The man fell and the cat jumped at Grand, who was behind them. He was still lying on top of Hannah, shielding her from cats and bullets.

Grand didn't have a weapon. The only nearby object he might be able to use was the grate.

"Get under the truck!" he yelled at Hannah.

As gunfire exploded around them, Hannah scrambled toward the truck while Grand crawled in the opposite direction. Standing on his knees, he hoisted the heavy grate chest-high, facing out. He thrust it forward as the cat bore down. The saber-tooth's fang struck the iron bars with a clang.

The cat backed away and Grand stayed with it, pushing hard, focusing his moat , crying with fury as the cat hissed its own desperate rage. Grand wanted to work the fangs between the bars and trap the creature, leave it helpless until the police got the situation under control and he could tranquilize the animal, save at least one of the saber-tooths. In the midst of everything he was careful to keep the grate head-on. He was afraid that twisting it to one side or the other might cause the fangs to snap off at the gum line.

Suddenly the cat lowered its head and pushed forward, knocking Grand back. The saber-toothed cat put its front paws on the grate, jerked its head back several times, and pulled free of the bars. With a roar, it charged Grand. The scientist rolled under the truck next to Hannah, sliding under just as the saber-tooth swiped at them from the side.

Hannah screamed and hugged Grand, half in fear, half in relief. Grand held her as he looked past her. There were cats and men on the other side, panic and deafening gunfire on all sides. Grand saw the bloodied bodies of several cats and the mangled bodies of at least seven police and National Guardsmen lying side by side under the glare of the emergency lights.

"Do you see the Wall?" Hannah asked anxiously.

"He was over by the Jeeps," Grand said. "I think he's okay-"

Just then, Grand felt hot pain rip against one of his legs. He looked back and saw a huge set of claws. The saber-tooth was working its way under the truck, its large paw on its side and scratching furiously. He squirreled in a little more; going any farther would put Hannah too close to the other side.