“You gonna be okay here, ladies?” the archer asked.
Paige and Nadya jumped down from the truck. Handing the medical kit to the Amriany, Paige replied, “We’ll be okay. What about you guys?”
“Made it this far. That don’t mean shit when it comes to the end of days, but we should be able to make it a little longer.”
Hearing that made Paige fairly certain the man wasn’t a Skinner. At least, he hadn’t been one for long. Most experienced werewolf hunters had already seen and killed enough to have grown comfortable with anything resembling the end of days. Just to be sure, she approached the green truck and extended a hand. “My name’s Paige and that’s Nadya. I’d ask you in, but that’s not such a good idea.”
Glancing to the door through which Nadya had already disappeared, he said, “John Waggoner. Ask anyone in town and they’ll tell you I ain’t about to hurt you. Whatever you’re protecting in there, it’s safe with us.”
“I’m sure it is, John. I appreciate the help. Is there a way I can get in touch with you?”
“We’ll swing by here in an hour or so. If that throw-down out there gets worse, it may take a little longer. There are other folks in town we need to check on. Any chance we could send some stragglers this way?”
Waggoner was no Skinner. His palms were rough and callused, but not scarred. Although she’d had her notions about the bow slung across his shoulder, that wasn’t a Skinner weapon either. It was too smooth to have ever changed shape, and the handle was made for comfort instead of drawing the blood of its owner.
“Yeah,” Paige said. “If anyone needs to come here, send them over. Just tell them not to be alarmed with what may greet them.”
“Are you sure about that?” Nadya asked quietly.
Patting her arm, Paige watched the men in the pickups. “Just have your stragglers mention my name if you come back and they should at least get shelter. Still, we’re kind of in a bad spot right now.”
“Understood,” Waggoner said with a nod. “Paige, right?”
“Yep.”
“Appreciate the help. We’ll swing by later to check in on you.” With that, he slapped the side of the truck and motioned for the driver to get moving. Both vehicles rolled away, gunning their engines as they were almost immediately chased by a pair of wandering Half Breeds.
“You think we’ll see them again?” Nadya asked.
“Odds of survival aren’t much worse for them than they are for us. Let’s just see what we can do for Milosh right now.”
Nadya led the way downstairs to the cellar inhabited by the Mongrels. Stopping at the top of the stairs, Paige dug into her pocket for her phone. The device might not have been up to Cole’s technical standards, but it was sturdy enough to survive all the bumps it had taken during the last several hours and still let her know she’d missed a call. The number on the caller ID was familiar, so she tapped the screen right away.
“Midwestern Ectological Group, how can—”
Paige interrupted the unfamiliar voice with a bare-bones introduction and an identification number that verified she was one of MEG’s “special contacts.”
“Hang on,” the operator said. “I’m supposed to patch you right through to Stu.”
The first voice was replaced by a very familiar one that said, “Paige! Where are you?”
“Oklahoma.”
“I knew it! As soon as I heard about the town that was overrun, I knew you’d be in the middle of it! Atoka, right?”
“Yeah,” she said. “It’s already on the news?”
“Not the major networks, but there’s plenty of reports coming in from people taking pictures and videos and whatever else. They’re getting squashed by official channels that go pretty high up. Know anything about that?”
“Maybe. I need to get in touch with someone in this area. One of us. And nobody who might be a friend of Rico’s.”
“You worried about the Vigilant?”
Paige’s stomach clenched into a knot. “Who are they?” she asked.
“We’ve only heard the name once, but several of you guys have been breaking off from us.”
“How many?”
“It’s hard to say for certain,” Stu replied. “There are a few out west who don’t normally check in anyways and plenty that never made it onto our list, but they aren’t necessarily broken away. Lots more as you head east. We lost track of everyone from Philadelphia and that vicinity. That’s about all we’ve got on them.”
“What about anyone in the Oklahoma area? Anyone out here at all? Vigilant or not?” As she waited for Stu to look up the information, her phone beeped. It was another incoming call, but she ignored it since Stu was already pulling up results.
“Sure. There’s a small group based in Oklahoma City.”
“Is one of them named John Waggoner?” she asked.
“I’ve only got one name and it’s Bill Phillips. You want his number?”
“Just send it to me. I’ve got to go. Thanks, Stu.” Before he could say anything else, she cut the connection. Paige stood at the top of the stairs, listening to what sounded like some very uncomfortable grunts coming from Milosh. Since the noises he made weren’t growls or dying breaths, that probably meant he was getting the treatment he needed. The fingers on her right hand tingled, so she flexed them. More than likely she needed to get some preventive medication herself.
The phone rattled in her hand, causing her to twitch. It buzzed once and stopped, and when she looked down she saw Stu’s text message passing along Bill Phillips’s phone number. That was followed by U R welcome .
The next call she made was to a number that wasn’t listed in any directory. As far as she knew, it wasn’t even supposed to be written down on anything that wasn’t set on fire a minute later. After two rings the connection crackled through several layers of electronic security measures and was answered by a curt, “Adderson.”
Ignoring the beep of an incoming call, she asked, “Have you heard anything about Cole yet?”
“If you know where he is, then tell me right now!”
She grinned, which was enough of a silent gap to make the man at the other end of the connection nervous.
“Paige!” Adderson barked. “I’m serious. I can’t offer any assistance if you don’t offer some in return.”
She cut the call short with the quick poke of a button. By the time she got to the cot where Milosh was being treated, she was already getting another call. This one she answered right away.
Chapter Fifteen
Cole and Lambert rode in an old Chevy hatchback they’d stolen not too long ago. Actually, Frank had stolen it. The Squam waited alongside County Road 255 until he spotted a solitary car with no others in sight. Bounding in a loping stride that forced him to lean forward and swat the ground with his hands, he caught up to it, pulled the passenger door open and climbed inside.
Although Cole felt bad for the petrified, twenty-something girl behind the wheel, he had to admit it was one of the coolest things he’d ever seen. He rushed over to the car, pulled the trembling little blonde out through her door and shoved her into the back with Lambert. “Who are you guys?” she screamed. “Please just let me go!”