236
You wake with a start, your hand reaching for your gun as you sense instinctively that something is wrong.
‘Quick, everyone up!’ hisses the sergeant. ‘There’s trouble on the way!’
Within seconds you are wide awake, taking in every detail of your surroundings, assessing the threat. A column of vehicles is entering the town, their headlights hooded but still visible in the darkness. There are several four-wheeled vehicles but motorcycles make up the majority. It is a clan convoy.
They enter the town and stop in line along the main street. They, too, are following the colony’s tracks, which have led them straight to you.
An RV draws up alongside the line of vehicles and out steps a man with hatred blazing in his eyes. A chill touches your heart as you recognize his haunting features: it is Mad Dog Michigan. He screams a command and immediately the clansmen leave their machines and, with torch in hand, commence a search of the surrounding buildings.
‘This way!’ says Captain Frankland, his voice a harsh whisper. You and the others follow him up a flight of stairs that leads to the roof. As you crouch beside the parapet that encircles the roof, you peer carefully through a gap and into the street below. There are clansmen everywhere, running back and forth, their torches probing every shadow. All the same, you are beginning to feel sure that they will miss you when you hear something that sets your pulse racing.
