The cats.
With the disappearance of the Nazi troops and their weaponry, the cats were now free to move throughout the village again.
They were back. And they were looking for blood.
Race spun where he stood, saw Van Lewen standing over by the upturned ATV.
“Professor, get out of here!' the Green Beret sergeant yelled.
'Doogie'll cover you! I've got to get this thing upright again!'
Race didn't have to be told twice. He immediately hurried off through the village, surrounded by fog. As soon as he did so, however, he heard quick muddy footsteps splashing through the greyness behind him.
Getting closer, gaining on him.
And then suddenly—bam-smack-splat.
It was the sound of another of Doogie's gunshots—bam!— followed by the sound of the bullet smacking into one of the Nazis—smack—followed by the sound of the Nazi hitting the ground—splat.
Another rapa slid out in front of him, prepared to pounce—bam!—its head just exploded, nailed by Doogie.
The rapa's body began to convulse. Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
Bam! The body went still.
Race couldn't believe it.
It was like navigating your way through a fog- enshrouded maze while being protected by a guardian angel. All he could do was just keep running—keep moving forward—while Doogie took care of the dangers all around him, dangers which he himself couldn't see.
He heard more muddy footsteps—heavier this time—the four-legged variety.
Bam.
Smack.
Splat.
Up on the citadel, Doogie swore.
That last hit had run him dry. He was out of ammo. He ducked behind the parapet and frantically began to reload.
Over by the river, Van Lewen hung from the underside of the upturned ATV, heaving on it with all his weight, conscious of the fact that there were rapas out there in the mist behind him.
'Get your weight up higher!” he called to Nash and the others inside the vehicle. 'We've got to tip it over!'
They moved instantly and almost immediately the ATV— already precariously balanced on its side—began to tip over.
Van Lewen quickly scurried out of its way, just as— whump—the big eight-wheeler landed on its tyres and he hurried for the door on its side.
Race was still running hard through the mist when suddenly, like a curtain being drawn to reveal a stage, the veil of fog before him parted and he beheld the citadel.
It was then that he heard the clack-clack of a safety being released on a G-11 somewhere nearby and he froze and slowly turned—and saw the last Nazi commando standing in the fog behind him, his G-11 aimed squarely at Race's head.
Race waited for the now-familiar report of Doogie's sniper rifle. But it never came.
Why wasn't he firing anymore?
And then abruptly there came an almighty roar, which Race translated as the roar of one of the cats.
But it wasn't the roar of a cat.
It was the roar of an engine.
The next instant, the ATV came exploding out of the mist and slammed into the Nazi commando's back.
The Nazi fell, crushed beneath the big all-terrain vehicle, and even Race himself had to dive out of the way as the ATV rumbled past him and skidded to a halt in front of the citadel—stopping right in front of the fortress's entrance, aligning itself so that its sliding left-hand door opened flush onto the citadel's doorway.
A second later, Race saw the rear hatch of the ATV pop open and Van Lewen's head appear.
'Hey, Professor, you coming or what?'
Race leapt up onto the back of the vehicle and dived head-first into its hatch. No sooner was he inside than Van Lewen slammed the steel hatch shut behind him with a loud resounding thud.
'They got the idol,' Van Lewen said, sitting on the floor of the citadel, surrounded by the others, in the half- light of their flashlights. The open door of the ATV was behind him, completely filling the wide stone doorway of the citadel.
'Fuck,' Lauren said. 'If they get that thyrium to a workable Supernova we're screwed, -'
“What are we going to do?' Johann Krauss said.
