‘No.’
The other teens were just as shocked as the man was to hear this bluntly defiant response from Daekwon.
‘What?!’ the man growled.
‘We ain’t g-, givin’ you none a’ these v-, videos,’ Daekwon said resolutely. ‘Not until you tell us what the f-, fuck is going on. Is you a w-, w-, werewolf, were … animal thing, like this t-, tiger, this weretiger, if that’s what that thing even is? You is, isn’t you?’
‘Forget what you saw, idiot,’ the man hissed, grimacing as he cranked the steering wheel and hurtled around another corner with the tyres howling in protest. ‘Can’t you foolish children just be like the rest of your kind and simply look away, pretending that you didn’t see anything?’
This time it was Chloe who spoke, iron bolstering her voice.
‘No, we can’t. We’re Eisenhower High’s Environmental Club,’ she answered, suddenly confident, even though her heart was pounding and her breathing was fluttery. ‘And I’m an activist for animal rights, and an LGBTQ campaigner. We ain’t the kind of people who turn and look away. We ain’t the kind of people who see a problem and stick our heads in the sand. And that tiger,’ she continued, looking over her shoulder at the unconscious beast in the back of the van, ‘is … is a beautiful, amazing animal, and I’d do anything to help him. Except that he’s not, not really an … animal, is he? And you … are you … like him?’
‘He is … and he isn’t,’ the man admitted with a resigned sigh. ‘And yes, I am. There’s a lot to explain, and … oh, by the Great Mother, I wish you children hadn’t become involved in this!’ he shouted, his brief spell of resignation rapidly giving way to frustration. ‘You cannot even begin to understand—’
‘What’s your name, sir?’ Paola asked meekly, speaking for the first time since this whole episode had started, her voice reedy and thin with fear. ‘I’m Paola Gonzalez. That’s Chloe O’Connor, this dude is Jun Chen, and this guy here, he’s Daekwon Johnson.’
‘My name is Zakaria,’ the man. ‘And I wish I hadn’t met any of you. I guarantee you, when you understand the full scope of this situation, that feeling is going to be mutual. I—’
A sudden peppering of submachine gun fire drummed its vengeful threat against the rear doors, cutting him off and prompting a chorus of screams from the teens.
‘Shit!’ Zakaria hissed through clenched teeth as the rear-view mirror revealed two black Husqvarna FS450 motorcycles weaving through traffic at a furious pace: the vanguard of a much larger squadron of Huntsmen vehicles. Fortunately for him, he was not entirely unaided in this flight.
‘You!’ he snapped, firing a potently authoritative glance at Chloe. ‘Open the glovebox! Take out the walkie-talkie and hold down the talk button! Do it, now!’
Chloe, too frightened and overwhelmed to even consider disobeying, hurriedly complied.
‘Godzilla, this is Mothra, do you copy?’ the big man rasped as he gunned the accelerator. ‘I repeat, Godzilla, this is Mothra, do you copy?’ He then reached over and swatted Chloe’s trembling thumb off the talk button.
‘Let it go as soon as I finish speaking!’
A sonorous voice crackled through the walkie-talkie speaker in response.
‘Mothra, this is Godzilla, reading you loud and clear.’
‘I’ve got two Huntsmen bikes on me, and I need you to navigate a route for me, now! I think—’
Another crackle of submachine gun fire erupted as one of the motorcyclists fired on him, and with a loud popcorn patter a spray of bullets hammered the van. Chloe shrieked, dropping the walkie-talkie, while Paola wailed and Jun curled up into a tight ball, covering his head with his arms. Daekwon lay down flat, also covering his head, his face scrunched into an expression of extreme consternation as he rattled off a string of expletives.
‘Bulletproof, it’s bulletproof!’ Zakaria roared as he swerved around a yellow cab, trying to shake off the motorcycles, who were closing in rapidly. ‘Don’t panic, stay calm!’
The walkie-talkie, meanwhile, crackled again.
‘Mothra, hang in there, I’m working on routes.’
‘Talk, talk!’ Zakaria shouted, taking his eyes off the road for a second to blast a withering glare at Chloe. ‘Hold the damn talk button when I say that!’
Chloe, on the verge of tears, whimpered and did as he said.
‘These Huntsmen bikers are right on top of me!’ Zakaria growled. ‘I need your eyes! Route, route, now! There has to be an ambush up ahead, stop me from driving into it!’
Chloe waited a second and then released the button; despite her state of panic, she was starting to get the hang of this.
‘I’m on it, my friend,’ the deep voice burbled. ‘Just a few more seconds.’
Another smattering of submachine gun fire battered the sides of the van.
‘Try harder, you Huntsmen bastards! I’m not dead yet!’ Zakaria snarled through tightly gritted teeth as he floored the accelerator and blasted through a red light. The V8 engine thundered and the tyres howled as he pulled the vehicle into a violent handbrake turn, swerving hard and only just avoiding a head-on collision.
‘Mothra, you’re in range. I’m flying out the chopper,’ his remote ally announced.
‘Talk!’
Chloe held down the button while Zakaria growled out a hasty jumble of sentences.
‘These blasted Huntsmen are gaining on me! I need the chopper on me NOW! Move, move! Bring in the payload, yesterday! I pray that we don’t have to use it, but if we do…’
‘I’ve got your back,’ the voice declared, ominous and reassuring at once. ‘I don’t want to use it either, but if it’s the only way…’
‘Talk!’
Chloe complied.
‘Then it’s the only way,’ Zakaria grunted, every choked syllable dusted with hoar frost. ‘Now—’
A wildly accelerating motorcycle burst out of a side alley in front of them. The biker
