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that face could not conceal its thick； brutal stupidity。 Braided pigtails of hair hung from his cheeks。 A scar in the shape of an X rode his forehead。
The Wolf was wearing something like a mercenary's uniform…or what he imagined a mercenary's uniform would look like。 Baggy green pants were bloused out over black boots…but the toes of the boots had been cut off； Jack saw； to allow the Wolf's long…nailed； hairy toes to protrude。
'Train！' he bark…growled as the engine closed the last fifty yards。 He began to jump up and down； grinning savagely。 He was snapping his fingers like Cab Calloway。 Foam flew from his jaws in unlovely clots。 'Train！ Train！ Fuckin train RIGHT HERE AND NOW！' His mouth yawned open in a great and alarming grin； showing a mouthful of broken yellow spears。 'You guys some kinda fuckin early； okay； okay！'
'Jack； what is it？' Richard asked。 His hand was clutching Jack's shoulder with panicky tightness； but to his credit； his voice was fairly even。
'It's a Wolf。 One of Morgan's。'
There； Jack； you said his name。 Asshole！
But there was no time to worry about that now。 They were ing abreast of the guardhouse； and the Wolf obviously meant to swing aboard。 As Jack watched； he cut a clumsy caper in the dust； cut…off boots thumping。 He had a knife in the leather belt he wore across his naked chest like a bandoleer； but no gun。
Jack flicked the control on the Uzi to single…fire。
'Morgan？ Who's Morgan？ Which Morgan？'
'Not now；' Jack said。
His concentration narrowed down to a fine point…the Wolf。 He manufactured a big； plastic grin for his benefit； holding the Uzi down and well out of sight。
'Anders…train！ All…fuckin…right！ Here and now！'
A handle like a big staple stuck off from the right side of the engine； above a wide step like a running board。 Grinning wildly； drizzling foam over his chin and obviously insane； the Wolf grabbed the handle and leaped lightly up onto the step。
'Hey； where's the old man？ Wolf！ Where's…'
Jack raised the Uzi and put a bullet into the Wolf's left eye。
The glaring orange light puffed out like a candle…flame in a strong gust of wind。 The Wolf fell backward off the step like a man doing a rather stupid dive。 He thudded loosely on the ground。
'Jack！' Richard pulled him around。 His face looked as wild as the Wolf's face had been…only it was terror； not joy； that distorted it。 'Did you mean my father？ Is my father involved in this？'
'Richard； do you trust me？'
'Yes； but…'
'Then let it go。 Let it go。 This is not the time。'
'But…'
'Get a gun。'
'Jack…'
'Richard； get a gun！'
Richard bent over and got one of the Uzis。 'I hate guns；' he said again。
'Yeah； I know。 I'm not particularly keen on them myself； Richie…boy。 But it's payback time。'
6
The tracks were now approaching a high stockade wall。 From behind it came grunts and yells； cheers； rhythmic clapping； the sound of bootheels punching down on bare earth in steady rhythms。 There were other； less identifiable sounds as well； but all of them fell into a vague set for Jack…military training operation。 The area between the guardhouse and the approaching stockade wall was half a mile wide； and with all this other stuff going on； Jack doubted that anyone had heard his single shot。 The train； being electric； was almost silent。 The advantage of surprise should still be on their side。
The tracks disappeared beneath a closed double gate in the side of the stockade wall。 Jack could see chinks of daylight between the rough…peeled logs。
'Jack； you better slow down。' They were now a hundred and fifty yards from the gate。 From behind it； bellowing voices chanted； 'Sound…HOFF！ Hun…too！ Hree…FO！ Sound…HOFF！' Jack thought again of H。 G。 Wells's manimals and shivered。
'No way； chum。 We're through the gate。 You got just about time to do the Fish Cheer。'
'Jack； you're crazy！'
'I know。'
A hundred yards。 The batteries hummed。 A blue spark jumped； sizzling。 Bare earth flowed past them on either side。 No grain here； Jack thought。 If No？l Coward had written a play about Morgan Sloat； I guess he would have called it Blight Spirit。
'Jack； what if this creepy little train jumps its tracks？'
'Well； it might； I guess；' Jack said。
'Or what if it breaks through the gate and the tracks just end？'
'That'd be one on us； wouldn't it？'
Fifty yards。
'Jack； you really have lost your mind； haven't you？'
'I guess so。 Take your gun off safety； Richard。'
Richard flicked the safety。
Thuds 。 。 。 grunts 。 。 。 marching men 。 。 。 the creak of leather 。 。 。 yells 。 。 。 an inhuman； laughing shriek that made Richard cringe。 And yet Jack saw a clear resolution in Richard's face that made Jack grin with pride。 He means to stick by me…old Rational Richard or not； he really means to stick by me。
Twenty…five yards。
Shrieks 。 。 。 squeals 。 。 。 shouted mands 。 。 。 and a thick； reptilian cry…Groooo…OOOO！…that made the hair stand up on the back of Jack's neck。
'If we get out of this；' Jack said； 'I'll buy you a chili…dog at Dairy Queen。'
'Barf me out！' Richard yelled； and； incredibly； he began to laugh。 In that instant the unhealthy yellow seemed to fade a bit from his face。
Five yards…and the peeled posts which made up the gate looked solid； yes； very solid； and Jack just had time to wonder if he hadn't made a great big fat mistake。
'Get down； chum！'
'Don't call m…'
The train hit the stockade gate； throwing them both forward。
7
The gate was really quite strong； and in addition it was double…barred across the inside with two large logs。 Morgan's train was not terribly big； and the batteries were nearly flat after its long run across the Blasted Lands。 The collision surely would have derailed it； and both boys might well have been killed in the wreck； but the gate had an Achilles' heel。 New hinges； forged according to modern American processes； were on order。 They had not yet arrived； however； and the old iron hinges snapped when the engine hit the gate。
The train came rolling into the stockade at twenty…five miles an hour； pushing the amputated gate in front of it。 An obstacle course had been built around the stockade's perimeter； and the gate； acting like a snowplow； began shoving makeshift wooden hurdles in front of it； turning them； rolling them； snapping them into splinters。
It also struck a Wolf who had been doing punishment laps。 His feet disappeared under the bottom of the moving gate and were chewed off； customized boots and all。 Shrieking and growling； his Change beginning； the Wolf began to claw…climb his way up the gate with fingernails which were growing rapidly to the length and sharpness of a telephone…lineman's spikes。 The gate was now forty feet inside the stockade。 Amazingly； he got almost to the top before Jack dropped the gear…lever into neutral。 The train stopped。 The gate fell over； puffing up big dust and crushing the unfortunate Wolf beneath it。 Underneath the last car of the train； the Wolf's severed feet continued to grow hair； and would for several more minutes。
The situation inside the camp was better than Jack had dared hope。 The place apparently woke up early； as military installations have a way of doing； and most of the troops seemed to be out； going through a bizarre menu of drills and body…building exercises。
'On the right！' he shouted at Richard。
'Do what？' Richard shouted back。
Jack opened his mouth and cried out： for Uncle Tommy Woodbine； run down in the street； for an unknown carter； whipped to death in a muddy courtyard； for Ferd Janklow； for Wolf； dead in Sunlight Gardener's filthy office； for his mother； but most of all； he discovered； for Queen Laura DeLoessian； who was also his mother； and for the crime that was being carried out on the body of the Territories。 He cried out as Jason； and his voice was thunder。
'TEAR THEM UP！' Jack Sawyer/Jason DeLoessian bellowed； and opened fire on the left。
8
There was a rough parade ground on Jack's side； a long log building on Richard's。 The log building looked like the bunkhouse in a Roy Rogers movie； but Richard guessed that it was a barracks。 In fact； this whole place looked more familiar to Richard than anything he had seen so far in this weird world Jack had taken him into。 He had seen places like it on the TV news。 CIA…supported rebels training for takeovers of South and Central American countries trained in places like this。 Only； the training camps were usually in Florida； and those weren't cubanos pouring out of the barracks…Richard didn't know what they were。
Some of them looked a bit like medieval paintings of devils and satyrs。 Some looked like degenerate human beings…cave…people； almost。 And one of the things lurching into the early…morning sunlight had scaly skin and nictitating eyelids 。 。 。 it looked to Richard Sloat like an alligator that was somehow walking upright。 As he looked； the thing lifted its snout and uttered that cry he and Jack had heard earlier： Grooo…OOOOO！ He just had time to see that most of these hellish creatures looked totally bewildered； and then Jack's Uzi split the world with thunder。
On Jack's side； roughly two dozen Wolfs had been doing callies on the parade ground。 Like the guardhouse Wolf； most wore green fatigue pants； boots with cut…off toes； and bandoleer belts。 Like the guard； they looked stupid； flatheaded； and essentially evil。
They had paused in the middle of a spastic set of jumping jacks to watch the train e roaring in； the gate and the unfortunate fellow who had been running laps at the wrong place and time plastered to the front。 At Jack's cry they began to move； but by then they were too late。
Most of Morgan's carefully culled Wolf Brigade； hand…picked over a period of five years for their strength and brutality； their fear of and loyalty to Morgan； were wiped out in one spitting； raking burst of the machine…gun in Jack's hands。 They went stumbling and reeling backward； chests blown open； heads bleeding。 There were growls of bewildered anger and howls of pain 。 。 。 but not many。 Most of them simply died。
Jack popped the clip； grabbed another one； slammed it in。 On the left side of the parade ground； four of the Wolfs had escaped； in the center two more had dropped below the line of fire。 Both of these had been wounded but now both were ing at him； long…nailed toes digging divots in the packed dust； faces sprouting hair； eyes flaring。 As they ran at the engine； Jack saw fangs grow out of their mouths and push through fresh； wiry hair growing from their chins。
He pulled the trigger on the Uzi； now holding the hot barrel down only with an effort； the heavy recoil was trying to force the muzzle up。 Both of the attacking Wolfs were thrown back so violently that they flipped through the air head…over…heels like acrobats。 The other four Wolfs did not pause； they headed for the place where the gate had been two minutes before。
The assorted creatures which had spilled out of the bunkhouse…style barracks building seemed to be finally getting the idea that； although the newers were driving Morgan's train； they were a good deal less than friendly。 There was no concentrated charge； but they began to move forward in a muttering clot。 Richard laid the Uzi's barrel on the chest…high side of the engine cab and opened fire。 The slugs tore them open； drove them backward。 Two of the things which looked like goats dropped to hands and knees…or hooves…and scurried back inside。 Richard saw three others spin and drop under the force of the slugs。 A joy so savage that it made him feel faint swept through him。
Bullets also tore open the whitish…green belly of the alligator…thing； and a blackish fluid…ichor； not blood…began to pour out of it。 It fell backward； but its tail seemed to cushion it。 It sprang back up and leaped at Richard's side of the train。 It uttered its rough； powerful cry again 。 。 。 and this time it seemed to Richard that there was something hideously feminine in that cry。
He pulled the trigger of the Uzi。 Nothing happened。 The clip was spent。
The alligator…thing ran with slow； clumsy； thudding determination。 Its eyes sparkled w