Lawrence shivers horribly as wolves howl, the sound echoing across the snowy cliffs. "Snow, cut off from civilization, wolves-you know, I like Box of Delights as much as the next man. Well, probably more than the next man, if I'm honest, because usually the man isn't a man who's obsessed with 1980's children's tv, however-"

"'They tell me the wolves are running,'" Paul quotes, and Lawrence laughs.

"Paul? You? And with a bleeding arm, man. We're gonna be mates, mate. We've-we've got magic boxes!" He pauses, his face scrunching up in thought. "Uh, oh wait. Is this a dream? Oh, God, it would be amazing if this turned out to be a dream."

Wolves howl in the distance, and he cringes.

"It's not a dream," Stanton says.

"Yeah, I guess not," He huffs. "Okay, looks, someone tell me, how are there wolves out here? Didn't we get rid of them in like, the Victorian times?"

"Cangues Wildlife Center," Paula explains as we trek on. "They reintroduced them three years back, bringing back native species to Scotland, you know. Attracts tourism, keeps the population of red deer in check, naturally. I was in all in favor at the time. Gives a thrill in those paintball games to see a wolf on the other side of the barbed wire, and they're no danger... not really."

They howl again, and I wrap my arms tighter around myself.

"No danger, huh?"

"Keep on," Stanton commands. "With any luck, we'll move out of their hunting range."

I have to clench my jaw to keep my teeth from chattering as we start moving. White puffs of air leave my mouth with each breath, and I'm thankful Paul told us to get the thicker coats before we made our escape.

Stanton said we made a clean getaway, but how long until they realize we're not dead in the house? They figured out Lawrence and I hadn't died from that helicopter going down because of Adebayo letting them know, so we might have a bit more time here, but how long will it take them to look through the smoking ruins of the mansion and see that there aren't any dead bodies?

I glance at Paul, who's doing surprisingly well for someone as injuries as he is. Maybe the cold is distracting him from the pain, or maybe those pain meds are doing better than I thought. I wonder what he's thinking about. He seems to have decided he can trust us, although I guess he would since we were the ones who dragged him inside the house after he passed out and wrapped up his wound.

But that was expected of us, seeing how we're the cause of it in the first place. I wonder if he's thinking about the manor and it burning down. I wonder if he's thinking about us, and if he really can trust us.

I would understand if he didn't. Our story is an odd one to believe. I didn't even believe it at first and I was thrust into it headfirst.

I gasp in a breath of ice-cold air as more wolves howl. I try to convince myself that I'm only imagining that they sound closer.

"So, the wolves are still here," Lawrence shudders, looking around past the trees and snow, frowning when he finds nothing.

"Yes," Stanton replies.

"So, we haven't moved out of their hunting grounds."

"No."

He clicks his tongue. "You know, if they'd come to me with the plan to let rabid wolves frolic freely around the Scottish countryside, I might have suggested that it just possibly might not be the best idea in the world ever."

"Well, they said it was an environmental program," Emma says, and Paul mods.

"It was."

She doesn't look convinces. "I head it was an experiment in genetic alternation. Creating things that looked like wolves but with a taste for human blood."

My chest tightens, although Paul just sends the blonde a weird look.

Stanton rolls her eyes. "Any predatory animal gets a taste for human blood if they... get to taste human blood."

She still presses on. "No, I did read it. The government suppressed it in the news, but there a genomic research lab where they've been testing genic splicing to-"

"Paul, mate, you know you're bleeding," Lawrence interrupts, pointing to Paul's arm.

He gasps, pulling at the arm of his coat and showing his long-sleeved shirt stained with blood. "Ah! It's dripping out of my sleeve."

The wolves howl again, and Stanton looks at him with worried eyes. "Seems we know what scent we're falling now."

My heart rate quickens, my blood roaring in my ears as we pick up the pace. There are a few figures on the horizon-not human. It's an easy guess to what they really are. I trip over my own feet, nearly falling face first into the snow, like earlier, but I don't take my eyes off of them.

They're just standing there, waiting.

For what?

Paul is busy messing with his sleeve, trying to stop the bleeding without taking his coat off. It's far too cold out here to be doing that. I spare a second's glance away from the wolves on the horizon to glance at Paul, hating the pain in his eyes.

Useless apologies lay heavily on my tongue, and my eyes water from both the cold and sympathy for a man who never should have been a part of this. But neither tears nor words make it to the surface, and the only sound that hits the air for multiple minutes is the crunch of snow under our feet as we keep walking.

But as the silence grows, so does something else. My mounting thoughts of this-all of this. Charlie left us, and the connection of that wind-up radio proved that there was some way of communication, so why hasn't she tried to contact us yet? We need her!

I wrap my arms around myself, and even though it does help with the cold, it does little to keep the anxiety out.

God, I wish I had a working cellphone. I wish I could call my dad. He'd know what to do. He'd know exactly what to do and he'd know exactly who I could trust and how I could get through this. I wish I could think like he could. If so, then I probably wouldn't be three seconds away from crying my eyes out because I'm stuck in the cold with no guide and wolves following the scent of blood from a man who's injured because of us.

Lawrence sighs, as if trying to find the words before he starts speaking. "Well, what it-hypothetically, what if wolves did attack us? Should we make up some kind of plan?"

"If they attack, we'll fight them off," Stanton replies plainly, and he rolls his eyes.

"Uh, with what? I know we've got guns, but I'm not what you call a-a crack shot under pressure, when having to aim at moving wolves. And I know Walker's surprisingly good when she shot those Burn members, but wolves are a lot faster than people-"

"I read somewhere that tiger urine might put them off," Emma pipes up, and Lawrence sends her a bewildered look.

"Just what have you been reading, Emma?"

She doesn't get a chance to reply, because Stanton speaks first, sarcasm dripping from her voice. "Excellent plan. I assume you've got tiger urine with you at all times?"

Lawrence snickers. "Don't we all?"

"Hey!" The blonde pouts. "I don't hear the rest of you offerin' suggestions!"

She has a point. The only thing I can think of is using our guns, and like Lawrence said, I can shoot, but that was at a person. Wolves are faster.

Plus... I don't know if I want to be shooting at anything, not now. I'm already trying not to think too hard about the fact that I killed people. Yes, they were members of the Burn, and they tried to kill us first, but still...

It's an odd feeling, a bad feeling...

And it's one I don't want to feel again.

"Can't see them on the horizon anymore," Paul points out, and I glance over to see the silent figures gone. "We-we seem to have thrown them off for now, anyway." He pauses, as if thinking, before slowing down. "Emma, Lawrence, I'm a bit tired. Could you walk a bit ahead to the ridge? See if you can spot shelter up ahead."

Both nod immediately, with Lawrence giving a chipper, "Sure thing, boss," before walking alongside Emma.

I start to follow, but a hand grabs my elbow. I tip my head to the side as I look back at Paul.

"Hold back with me just for a moment," He says, and then glances at Stanton as if to tell the redhead the same thing. "There's something I need to tell you."

That piques my curiosity even more. What could he possibly have to say to me and Stanton that he won't say to Lawrence and Emma? Paul's blue eyes glance over at the two moving away from us.

"Is everything okay?" I ask softly, and he gnaws on the inside of his cheek. I don't like that he doesn't give me an answer, but I don't press it. He said he had something to tell us, so I'm sure he's waiting to do so once Emma and Lawrence are out of earshot.

A minute passes, and then another, but it's not until Lawrence and Emma are nearly out of eyesight that Paul speaks.

"Okay, I-I waited because I don't want to alarm the others, but there's a story going around here. A few weeks ago, two hikers were attacked. They got away, but they reported that the wolves were working together, hunting them."

A choked noise leaves my lips.

"You think the wolves have identified human beings as a viable food source?" Stanton asks, and he gives a half shrug.

"Authorities wouldn't do anything without proof. Can't scare off the tourists o just a rumor, but-"

"The wolves seem to be behind us for now, at least."

As soon as she says that, Emma screams.

"Holy shit! Emma, run!" Lawrence shouts, and Stanton grabs her gun.

We all watch in alarm and Lawrence and Emma come running back towards us, sprinting as fast as their legs will carry them.

"They've circled 'round!" Emma shouts, eyes wide with fear. "They were waitin' for us! Run!"

I hear the wolves howling, snarling.

I turn and I run.

•

With how fast my heart is beating, I'm already certain it's a few seconds from giving out completely.

I yelp when I hear wolves howling. They sound so close-too close!

"Yeah, this is just great," Lawrence pants, looking as if he doesn't know whether to laugh or cry or curse at the situation. "Just completely fantastic! 'Just take this box to Edinburgh,' the Professor said. 'Look after it,' he said. 'I'll put in a good word for you with Soleil, my brilliant daughter,' he said. 'Ah, you might have to walk, but oh, you like a country ramble, don't you, Lawrence?'

"Didn't mention the bloodthirsty wolves, did he? Or the ruthless men with guns, or the terrorist bombs, or the various other explosions or other people shooting at m. Oh, no. 'Nice holiday,' he said. 'You'll enjoy it.'"

"Reconsidering your decision?" Stanton asks, and he laughs for a small second before shooting her a glare.

"I'm reconsidering my whole life!"

I nearly trip, but Emma grabs my arm to keep me from falling face first into the snow. My lungs burn, and my legs ache from the cold and the running. My lips are chapping and splitting, and I can taste warm blood on my tongue. I don't bother to spit it out on the snow, my brain too busy focusing on getting one foot in front of the other.

"Damn it," Stanton curses, and I swear my blood runs cold. "Do you see that?"

I look up, squinting. "What? Something passed the ravine?"

"I'm talking about the ravine. Clever little beasts, those wolves. They're chasing us to a dead end." She lets out a breath. I can almost see the wheels in her brain turning. "We desperately need shelter. If we find a defensible location, we could pick them off. Paul, any idea?"

He nods. "One idea. Um, I'm in no shape to cross the ravine, but I've got my climbing gear. You could cross."

She shakes her head. "Not enough time. The wolves will be on us as we set up."

That's when he starts to slow. "Not if I wait here. They target the weakest link."

Emma looks at him, horrified. "No, we can't! We can't just leave you! We got you into this whole stupid situation. We can't just-"

The wolves howl again. They're closer than ever before.

"We'll go up this rock face, then we'll decide," Stanton says, and I look with her with shock written all over her face. She can't seriously be suggesting we leave Paul out here to die!

We keep moving, and thankfully we don't have to argue with Paul to keep him from slowing down. He doesn't look like he wants to die, and that may be enough for us to convince him to not try to sacrifice himself for the rest of us.

A heavy feeling settles on my chest, making it hard to even breathe. This isn't fair! Paul is a real person, an innocent person who we might not even be able to actually talk about after this since it's apparently very hush-hush to the point that even we don't know everything that's on these boxes! He shouldn't have to die!

Charlie should have planned better. She should have given us some sort of backup plan instead of just leaving us. Without that priest hole, we would have been captured or burned to death in the house fire. Where was she then? Where is she now that we're running for our lives and actually considering let one of our own die for a cause he doesn't know anything about?!

Where are you, Charlie?

My eyes are watering again, this time more out of frustration than sadness. I hate how crying has always been my first response to strong emotions, but it feels appropriate here. All I can think about it how awful this situation is and how we shouldn't be here. I try to think of something we could have done to change this outcome, but nothing comes to mind.

It's a horrible feeling-helplessness.

I stumble, my hands flying out and grabbing onto a nearby tree to keep from hitting the ground. I hiss as the bark scrapes at my skin, and my fingers dig into a different texture-smooth. It rips when Lawrence grabs my arm and practically drags me along. I look at the piece of paper in my hands, one that had been stapled into the tree bark.

The drops of blood from my scrapped hands smear across the flyer, but I can still make out the words.

HAVE YOU SEEN AINSLEY?
5 FEET 3 INCHES
SHORT BROWN HAIR & BLUE EYES, 15 YRS OLD.
Meant to arrive home on the 5:53 am train from London with her school group, which never came into the station.

There's a picture of the girl, as well as some contact information if anyone's seen her. I don't know why someone would post a flyer all the way out here, but I don't dwell on it for too long. I just shove the crumpled, now-blood-stained paper into the pocket of my coat.

The wolves are howling again. They know they're gaining on us.

Stanton grunts, white puffs of air leaving her nose and mouth as she looks ahead. Even with the cold, she's sweating. "This is it. "Almost at the end of the line. Either we take our stand here or repel across and leave Paul to face the music."

Lawrence grimaces. "Not nice music."

"We can't leave Paul here," Emma exclaims. "We can't!"

Paul places a hand on her shoulder, his face holding a soft, sad smile. He sighs. "I can't say it's my... ideal way to go, but one is better than all of us. And you know, they'll probably scare off after I shoot one of them."

Lawrence looks at him with wide eyes. "You're just such a big damn hero, aren't you? A bloody, damn-"

"No," I say. "We're not-I'm not leaving him." I grab the rifle that's been strapped to my back. "I'll stay here with him while you guys use the gear to get over the ravine. Then Paul can go and-and I'll go last."

Stanton frowns at me. "Walker, you can't-"

"That isn't your choice to make," I tell her. "I'm not leaving him to die."

"But you're one of the carriers," Lawrence says. "If something happens to you-if you die-"

"I'm not leaving him!" I shout, and I can't hold back the tears this time. "I can't-before I met up with you and Jo, I was with someone else. The person who gave me the box. She got hurt, and she told me to leave her, and I did and-and she died. The Burn killed her. I am not leaving someone behind again!"

Lawrence stares at me, mouth open but no words coming out. I hear a growl, and I wipe my head around, wiping at my watery eyes. I can see them through the trees—gray bodies against gray rocks. I can tell when they move, their furry paws on the icy snow.

I tighten my grip on my rifle. "You guys go. Paul and I will stay and try to shoot them and then we'll go after you guys get across."

"But they could kill you," Lawrence starts, and I want to argue that they'll kill all of us if they don't hurry up and start setting up to cross the ravine.

"We need Charlie," Emma states. "Charlie, where are you? Charlie! We need you!"

Stanton frowns at her. "I doubt that's going to-"

I gasp at the sound of static through my earpiece.

"Coming back online. I'm trying. I'm trying," Charlie says, although her tone of voice sounds... odd, emotionless, almost. Although she sounds like her normal self when she speaks again. "Can you hear me? I should be coming back online now. Can anyone hear me?"

"Charlie!" Emma shouts in relief. "We're in trouble?"

"Hm? Oh!" Oh, yeah. Yeah, you are. Uh, get up the ridge and head to the left. Screened from you by the trees, about one K away is some shelter. Go as fast as you can. Go!"

"Come on," I yell. "Forget crossing. Charlie says there's shelter. We have to run for it."

"But-" Stanton starts, but I cut her off.

"Stop arguing and run!"

•

"I can see it." Lawrence lets out a laugh. "Oh, I can see it. Blessed wooden shack."

There's a blur of gray. I spot it just from the corner of my eye. Paul shouts out a warning to Lawrence just as I hear the growl.

Lawrence cries out as a wolf comes up from the side and attacks, slamming him into the ground and snapping at him.

"Lawrence!" I cry out, my voice cracking.

"Get off! Get it off me!" He shouts, using the rifle he had in his hands to push the wolf away. It keeps it at just enough of a distance so it can't bite him.

"Walker, shoot it!" Emma screams, and I fumble with my rifle.

I try to aim, but Paul quickly grabs my gun and forces me to lower it. "They're moving too fast. You don't want to risk shooting Lawrence."

"I need a knife, now!" Stanton shouts, and Paul immediately reaches into his backpack and pulls out a knife and tosses it to her. As soon as she has it in her hands, she lunges for the wolf, leaving the rest of us to stare in shock as she slashes the knife one way and another. "Let! Him! Go!"

With one fellow swoop she stabs the wolf near the back of its leg, which causes the creature to pull back, whimpering and bleeding heavily. It runs off, limping slightly. Blood stains the snow.

I run for Lawrence, quickly grabbing his arms and helping him stand. My eyes scan over his figure, looking for cuts and bruises. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? I-I don't think you're bleeding."

"I-I'm okay," He admits shakily. "Looks like the worst it did was rip my coat."

"We keep moving," Stanton says, dusting herself off and acting as if she didn't just stab a wolf. "We know it's not the only one out here. It'll be back."

"And in greater numbers," Lawrence says, and seeing that he's alright, we start moving towards the cabin that's only a few hundred meters off. There's wood stacked outside of it, meaning at the very least we have makings of a fire.

Paul lets out a sigh. "Looks like it's in good condition. Roof's still on." He glances up and holds out his hand, letting a few snowflakes fall onto his palm and dissolve. "Lucky. It's starting to snow."

When we reach the door, Emma tries to open it. Her eyes widen in panic when the doorknob just jiggles. "It's locked-"

She doesn't even get to finish her sentence before Stanton kicks her leg up and kicks in the door. "Not anymore. Come on. Time to rest, for now."

Emma looks at the taller woman with wide eyes, but she heads inside. We all start to follow, but a flash of something in the snow makes me pause.

There's something out there.

I take a look around, trying to spot any more flashes of gray heading our way, but I spot nothing. I take in a breath of freezing air then head for the reflecting object in the snow. It's only about twenty feet from the cabin, but in the snow is a small clip-on earring, with a button on the back.

I examine it, then place the earring on my ear-the one that doesn't have Charlie's earpiece-and I press the button.

I know I've made a mistake as soon as I do, because suddenly I'm in a small white room. It's similar to the room I was in when I heard that lady talking about Malaria C. In fact, it's the exact same room. Same single steel chair in front of a steel desk, with a recording device in the middle of it. Although this time there's a man in here, instead of a woman. He looks to be maybe in his early thirties, and he's pale and thin, almost to the point of sickly, but not quite.

"My name's Christopher Malcom, and I'm dead," He says. "I must be. I mean, you're listening to this, right?" He tsks. "You know what? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter! I died for something. I did something. Did a lot of stuff before I shuffled off and things... changed. I'm pleased that-"

"We need to know why you did it, Chris," A woman's voice comes in from the speakers. It's the same who was interviewing the Malaria C patient.

"What is this? Who are you?" I shout, but I get no answer. I don't see why I'd expect to.

"You mean join the Burn?" Chris replies, to the woman's prompt instead of my own questions, of course.

"Yes. And what you did for them. We want them to understand all of it," She says.

He nods. "I did it. I mean, when I went to uni, it was the socialist workers, but they didn't-they just... they didn't do anything. Just talk! After that, enviro-black, and that-that was real. They noticed us, didn't they? The cops, the authorities, when we smashed those high streets. All those multi=-nationals selling cloned goods to cloned people. Everything the same, expect we smashed it to glass. And then it wasn't so pretty, but it still wasn't enough."

"Nearly finished, Chris. And then what happened?"

"And then you came to me, Soleil. You told me about the Burn, and I knew... I knew we'd smash everything. All the windows, all the systems. We'd smash it all down until the whole world was nothing but broken glass."

Click.

I'm back in the cold, in the snow, with the faintest sound of someone calling for me.

"Wait..." I murmur, blinking rapidly as if that will clear my frazzled mind. "Soleil... Wasn't that the name of the girl Lawrence-"

"Walker, look out!" Lawrence shouts, and I hear a growl.

My eyes snap up to see a wolf charging straight for me. I choke, hands fumbling for my rifle to aim. It happens so fast-sharp canines, jagged claws. I don't have time to position the rifle well, instead pulling the trigger just as the wolf start to jump to try to take me down.

The sound of the gunfire hits my ears as I'm thrown back from the kickback of not having positioned the rifle correctly. Pain shoots up my shoulder as my back hits the snowy ground. I feel items spilling out of my backpack as Lawrence screams for me.

I lay in the snow, eyes wide with shock before I spot Lawrence standing over me.

"Oh, Walker, thank God you're okay." He grabs my arms and helps me up, but all I can do is just stare at him, too stunned to do anything. He glances back at the dead wolf, then at me. He's still got a grip on my arms, and as he glances behind me, I know it's at the others running out to see what's happened rather than another wolf. "Walker? Hey, Walker, look at me. Are you okay?"

"I..." I can't find the words.

"What were you doing out here? You could've gotten killed!"

I pull off the clip-on earring. "I saw this in the snow. I just... I..."

"What's this?"

I turn around at the sound of Emma's voice. She's got something in her hand, something that fell out of my backpack. The blood drains from my face.

It's my pills.

I stumble away from Lawrence, reaching out to take them from her. "T-those are mine."

She doesn't hand them over to me. "What is aripiprazole?"

I snatch it from her and shove it back into my backpack. "It's nothing."

"It's not," Stanton says, and my breathing quickens in fear. "I've heard of that medication before."

My stomach twists and my throat burns.

"Well, what is it?" Emma asks, and Stanton looks at me as she answers, her eyes narrowing at me as if she's trying to see through me.

"It's an antipsychotic."

A/N: Here you go, guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please be sure to vote and comment! Thank you and have a blessed day!