The howling screech of several teeth ripped through the air, a chorus of violence and fury. The prisoners in the cage bolted to the bars, looking out wide-eyed. Was it feeding time? Who would their captors drag out of camp and tie to the poles as a sacrificial offering?

  Flint peered around the cage's wooden bars to get a better look. Men sprinted through the camp, crying out in confusion.

  "Why they bein’ so aggressive?" Jed cried from near a tent.

  "They ain't just hungry. They sound angry!" a woman outside the cage said.

  "Should I fetch them some meat?" Jed asked.

  "Yeah!" Duke called, his buckskin tassels dancing as he rushed to the front of the camp.

  Jed ran for the cage door with his wood axe slung over his shoulder. "Now, none of y’all act up, you hear?" he warned as he reached for the padlock and pulled out a key ring.

  Jason interposed himself in front of Flint and took a defensive stance.

  A volley of gunshots echoed from the palisades, disconcertingly near.

  "Jed! Whatcha think you're doin'?" Beau called from the shadows.

  The man turned. "Gettin’ the meat for the mud monkeys, Beau!"

  Flint stole around Jason and closer to the cage door.

  "Ain't no time for that. They're already here; all men to the wall!"

  Jed nodded, his face white with worry, and he turned away from the cage.

  "Don't leave me here!" Flint screamed as he lunged, reaching through the cage wall and grabbing hold of Jed’s flannel shirt with both hands. The motion jerked the scabs on his abdomen.

  “Flint!” Jason barked as he tried to pull his brother back.

  "What the—get off me!" he snapped. "You’re safer in there than you are out here anyways."

  "Please!" Flint cried.

  The man reeled back, and with one well-placed punch through the bars, he sent Flint spinning back down to the dirt.

  Flint gasped as Jason caught him, blinking back tears as his eye began to swell shut.

  "Flint!" Jason cried as he steadied the boy. "Flint, you idiot, what were you thinking?" he demanded.

  Flint grunted, his cheek smarting. "Uh, I don't know." he groaned. "You want this?" He held up the key to the padlock.

  "Flint!" Jason cried. "You're amazing!"

  Two explosions interrupted the crack of gunfire, shaking the ground.

  Flint clapped his hands over his ears and threw himself down.

  "What was that?" the little girl shrieked.

  "That was war," Nana said quietly, his voice laced with cold recognition.

  Flint turned to the rest of the prisoners. "All right, guys, we're getting out of here," he declared. They all stared back in silence.

  "What, you don't understand me?" Flint asked, dangling the key in the air before him. He motioned to the door. "You understand that?" He asked. "It's called freedom. Free—dom." He slowed down to over-enunciate the words. "Let's go."

  "We all speak English," a man of East Asian heritage said with a subtle accent. The others nodded.

  "What?" Flint gasped in disbelief. "You knew about William and didn't even try to warn me? What's with the last day of silence?"

  "We don't want to be eaten, " a man said with a thick Eastern European accent. “So, we try not to make them mad."

  "Have any of you even tried to escape?"

  A dark-skinned man shrugged. "We don't want to get shot either." His accent was similar to Nana's.

  "Well, do what you will. We're getting out."

  Flint reached through the bars and started working the padlock. He ducked as a pair of people with guns ran past.

  They didn't spare a look at the cage. The prisoners were probably the least of their problems.

  Flint dropped the padlock and pushed the door open.

  "Go, go," he hissed to his crew, who stole out, running to a shelter and ducking behind it. A few individuals ran out of the camp, joining the fight at the front. Once they passed, the rest of the prisoners began to file out of the cage.

  "Let's go!" Jason hissed. "Grab whatever gear you can.”

  Flint pushed open the door to what turned out to be some sort of hunting lodge and storehouse. Furs, packs, coats, and weapons hung on the wall, illuminated by a bright propane lantern—probably the spoils of their raids. Flint grabbed a backpack, much sturdier and larger than his last, then started a raid of his own.

  He frantically crammed canned food, flashlights, first-aid supplies, several spools of paracord, and a bundle of shoelaces into his backpack. A camo hunting jacket only a few sizes too big and a sturdy pair of boots caught his interest. He snatched and donned them.

  Looking over his shoulder, Nana packed food and quite liberally took knives. "I can't find my knife," he growled. "They took it from me. My father gave it to me when I was a small boy."

  F'faron rushed up to Flint, holding out his old backpack. Flint cried out in surprise. "F'faron, I love you, man!" Maybe the furball wasn't so bad after all. Beau’s men hadn’t even emptied it. Flint found his auto-injector pens at the top where Bobby had stuffed them. Flint gladly pocketed them. Flint had to dig to retrieve the jumpstarter, then loaded the larger pack with food pouches and protein bars.

  "F'faron!" he called. The critter ran up to him.

  "Here." He handed his old backpack to the critter, who looked up with gratitude in his eyes. "It's more your size anyways."

  The gunfire continued outside, but the teeth grew silent. Did the hunters actually manage to slay the predators?

  The lodge door swung open behind Flint, and he turned to see William staring at them in surprise.

  "You!" Flint hissed.

  Ignoring them, William grabbed a hunting crossbow from the wall near the door and sprinted away.

  "Get back here!" Flint growled as he charged after him, his foot wound rubbing strangely in the sole of his new boots.

  "Flint, no!" Jason snapped, grabbing him and holding him back.

  "That little—" Flint gasped, a sudden realization hitting him. They were missing someone. "The girl!"

  "What?"

  Flint turned out of the lodge and sprinted back towards the cage.

  "Flint, wait."

  Flint ran from the hut and raced back towards the cage. His oversized coat and heavy boots weighed him down. He stumbled, his depth perception distorted by the low light and his swollen eye.

  Something hissed above, and momentarily, the night was bright as day. Flint raised a hand to shield his eyes from a flickering bright light, which shot and landed on the lodge, causing the roof to catch fire. Several nearby gunshots followed.

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  Someone must have accidentally hit the lodge with a flare.

  "Let's go!" Flint scrambled to his feet and rushed to the cage, where he found the young girl. She stood in the open doorway wide-eyed and petrified. She flinched every time a gunshot cracked and shrunk back into the shadow of the enclosure.

  "Hey!" Flint cried over the din of war. "Come with me!"

  The girl shook her head and gripped the pole to the door with knuckle-whitening intensity.

  "I'm going to get you home," Flint urged. "But I need you to come with me. Now!"

  She whimpered.

  Flint took a breath and reevaluated his approach. "Are you scared?" Flint asked.

  She nodded.

  "So am I, which is why I need you to come with my brother and me."

  She shrank further into the cage. She didn't like the prison; he could see it in her eyes. She wanted freedom more than anything. Only the paralyzing grip of fear held her back.

  "A little help, Jason?" Flint pleaded as he turned to find that he was alone. Damn. When had they gotten separated?

  That's it.

  "I'm sorry,” Flint said. "But if you stay, you die." Stepping into the cage and catching her by the wrist, he pried her iron grip off the bar.

  "No!" she whimpered.

  "Let's go!" Flint scooped her into his arms. She was a young girl, which only made her slightly smaller than Flint. It didn't help that she started kicking and thrashing.

  "I'm not leaving you to get eaten," Flint snapped, "so stop struggling."

  He stumbled outside carrying the squirming child. Once out in the open, she threw her arms around Flint's neck and buried her head into his shoulder as if she were trying to drown out and hide from the noise.

  Flint took a few labored steps that left him panting. Usually light on his feet and fast as an arrow, Flint gasped under his new burden, each step causing the scab on his foot to flare.

  He stumbled along, willing himself forward. As he fled, Flint had to step around a couple of bodies. The dirt undulated and snaked up the sides of the lifeless figures. Flint caught a glance of Duke motionless on the ground, a wide gash opened on his throat. Grateful the girl couldn't see the carnage, he pressed on.

  Wait, a cut throat? It wasn't a coarse, jagged cut like when he got clawed by a tooth, but clean, precise: done by a knife. This was a war between men. And the teeth just so happened to attack at the same time?

  Flint ran away from the main gate to the back of the encampment. He spotted several of the prisoners climbing the palisades at the back to escape into the forest away from the gunfire. Where was Jason?

  "Hold. On!" Flint gasped through labored breaths as his legs strained and his arms burned. "Almost. Out!"

  The thunder of gunfire died, and Flint couldn't help but slow down. His lungs boiled, and he grew light-headed. He hadn't exactly kept himself well-fed and could feel the lack of energy taking its toll.

  He arrived at the barricade and tried to set the girl down, but she clung to his neck as if letting go meant getting lost forever.

  "You have got to work with me!" Flint pleaded as he tried to direct her up the barricade.

  Behind, the cry of teeth sounded again, cracking the silence like a spotlight in the darkness. They were inside. She clutched Flint's neck tighter, almost choking him.

  Flint heard someone approaching from behind. Turning, he saw William, illuminated by the glow of firelight, sprinting for the barricade.

  Flint tried to pull himself up, but with the girl hugging his neck, he lacked the strength to do so.

  William threw himself on the barricade next to Flint and started clambering up, glancing back only to sneer. "There's no room for sympathy here. You really are stupid, aren't you? Thanks for the head start." He snickered as he made his way over the log barrier.

  Flint groaned as he tried yet again, straining with everything he had to pull himself up. He dropped to the ground, gasping.

  "Hey," he turned to the girl, who trembled through panicked breaths. "Hey!" he begged, "I need you to work with me. Please!"

  She closed her eyes and shook her head frantically, whimpering as the sound of teeth grew louder; they had penetrated deep into the camp and were drawing near.

  "Hey!" Flint said as he grabbed her by the sides of the head, forcing her to look into his eyes. What was she doing on a world like Ash? Ash was no place for a child?

  "Grrrrrr," Flint growled his cheesy growl.

  She blinked at the unexpected snarl.

  "Now let me see your monster face."

  She considered him, nodded in understanding, and took a deep breath. "Raaah!" she screamed emphatically, surprising Flint with her intensity.

  "Wow!" Flint said nervously as precious seconds ticked away. "Can you help me get up there?" Flint asked, pointing up the barricade. "I'm scared and no good at climbing. I'll bet you're good at climbing."

  She nodded, freed from her shutdown. "I can climb."

  "Race you to the top!" Flint cried and started climbing, and she followed right behind. Hand over hand, it was much easier to pull himself up.

  A few more gunshots barked behind them, and then they died down, replaced by screams.

  Flint reached the top first, then turned to help pull her up. They slid down on the far side. The cold, dark night contrasted abruptly with the orange and hot glow of fire flickering from the inside of the encampment.

  They weaved between outward-facing spiked logs and headed into the woods outside. Flint ran, and the girl quickly fell behind.

  With a groan of frustration, Flint turned and crouched down. "Get on my back!" He cried. She wrapped her arms around his neck, but his backpack got in the way. It wouldn't work. Growling in desperation, he scooped her in his arms again but didn't make it ten steps before he was forced to set her down, panting for breath.

  Someone rushed up to them, armed with a rifle. "Flint!" Nana called. The firearm did little to make Nana look more approachable.

  "Nana!" Flint cried. "Have you seen Jason?"

  "He is safe, and the little hairy one, too. They are headed for the river. We must go meet them there," he waved Flint over.

  "I need help!" Flint cried.

  "What is it?" Nana turned, recognition dawning as he saw the girl in Flint’s arms.

  "I'm sorry, Nana," Flint panted. "I'm just not strong enough."

  "You are a good man, Flint," Nana said cautiously. "But on Ash, your compassion will get you killed."

  "Nana, please help," Flint begged, his voice weak and strained. “I can’t do this by myself!”

  Nana’s eyes flicked between Flint and the girl, his eyes hard. His fist tightened at his side. “Abena,” he whispered to himself, then sighed in resignation.

  "Here!" he shrugged off his rifle and handed it to Flint. He scooped the girl up in his more powerful arms. “Let us go meet up with your brother."

  The two of them broke into a trot in silence. Flint, relieved to be rid of his burden, was still weighed down by his backpack, hunger, and dehydration. Even the rifle he carried seemed heavier than it should have.

  Flint found something thrilling about the gun. He gripped the handle with the strap over his shoulder and recalled the movies he had seen of muscular men walking away from explosions in slow motion. The burning camp backlit the trio, but he didn't feel cool. Flint knew the image of a skinny, panting youth dressed in a coat far too large and carrying a pack too heavy must have been anything but cinematic.

  Finally, Nana called for a rest. He set the girl down, panting.

  "Nana," Flint gasped. "Back at the camp, I saw that a man had been killed by a knife. Who would attack such a fortified fort? Not to mention at the exact same time that teeth struck."

  Nana hunched over, panting with his hands on his knees. "We also saw men who had been shot," he confirmed. "The teeth were far too aggressive in their attack. I have never heard of more than three teeth attacking anywhere at a time. This pack had at least five. They kill a few and leave. This is what they have always done. I have never seen them attack an armed compound.

  "So why, then?" Flint wondered. “Why was tonight an exception?"

  "Politics," Nana said.

  "What does that mean?"

  "I do not know, Mr. Vance."

  "What do you think?" Flint asked, unsatisfied with the answer.

  "It is rumored that the teeth heed the call of a man. What he is called, I cannot say in English. It is not a word I have heard back home. But he is said to be some sort of handler for the teeth."

  "Someone controls them?" Flint asked in disbelief.

  "Like caged dogs. Yes." Nana nodded. "But I do not know that. It is just a rumor."

  A tooth handler. Flint recalled for a moment, just before the attack, he thought he saw his father for a moment, perched on the ground with glowing eyes surrounded by teeth. Could it be? But why would Dad be killing people? Massacring them? Unless. Could it be he was trying to rescue them?

  Flint's abdominal wounds pricked as sweat soaked the scabs. If his father were somehow a tooth handler and here to save him, why had the tooth attacked him before? He recalled how quickly the beast turned on him, glaring with its pit-like black eyes.

  Flint reached under his dirt-stained shirt, touched his scabs, and inhaled sharply.

  "Nana." Flint started. "What if … what if the teeth were there to help us?" Flint regretted saying it the second it came out.

  "Flint Vance," Nana said sternly, "I'm not sure I understand."

  "It's nothing," Flint said.

  "But it is," Nana insisted. "What evidence ever pointed at a tooth being friendly?"

  "Not the teeth," Flint said. "Maybe the handler."

  "Let me tell you what they say about the handler," Nana interjected emphatically, even angrily. "They say he is an angel of death who sold himself to the devil for his power. They say that is why he commands the demons of this world. I have even heard some call him the Wolf of Ash. He is a heartless killer just as bad as the teeth . Worse even. The day you see him is the day you die. He has killed many people, some of them my personal friends. I promise you if he attacked the compound with his hounds, he wanted prey, not rescue."

  Flint practically saw steam whiff off of Nana. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

  "You are new here, Flint. The first law of Ash is to run. Always. If you want to live. Never stick around to negotiate with killers; they do not care about you. The teeth, least of all."

  Flint nodded.

  "We have rested too long," Nana said. "Let us get to the river."

  The pack of teeth howled, a shrieking chorus that sent chills down Flint’s spine.

  "Me wo!" Nana grunted as he gritted his teeth together. The teeth weren't done for the night. "Why are they still hunting?" He groaned.

  "Because they didn't find what they were after." Flint realized. The image of his father flashed in his mind again.

  "They are headed to the river," Nana judged.

  "Jason!" Flint cried.

  Another howl sounded behind them, and they spun to meet empty darkness.

  "We have at least one on our trail." Flint panicked.

  "We must run."

  "We need to get to Jason!" Flint insisted.

  "And run straight into the rest of the pack? I do not think so."

  "You told him to wait for us," Flint accused. "He'll be waiting for them on a platter."

  "Your brother is smarter than you give him credit for, Flint Vance. He is with the little furry one."

  "He’ll run," Flint decided. As much as Flint faulted Jason for it, he had a good survival instinct.

  "We must run; we have no choice. We can try to find him after we escape."

  "We have one other choice," Flint insisted as he hefted the rifle, trying to hide that he didn't know how to use it. "We fight."

  "You think you will do any better than the rest of our captors combined?" Nana asked, then stepping forward; he pressed a small button on the rifle, ejected, and retrieved the magazine. "We run." He picked up the girl and stepped off, leaving Flint with the empty weapon.

  Flint’s eyes blurred in frustration as he ran after the big man, his thoughts a wish or silent prayer that Jason would be okay.

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