Ian scrambled up the ladder and pulled himself back onto the carriage roof. The selected gunmen were already behind the box vents, including Jack, who waved him over towards a spare one. Hold on Liana… everyone… I’ll make whatever time I’ve got left count…

  The choppers were closer now, dots changing to fussy shapes in the sky as they zoomed towards them. Growing larger and clearer with every second. Ian flicked the safety off on the handgun and aimed down the sights.

  As they dropped lower towards the ground, he gained a clear view of what the choppers were. Five were small, jet black with large cockpits. He had seen them before, buzzing around Manchester in the past. Little Birds.

  The others were larger, also painted in black and identical to the same helicopter he saw back over Burningham’s street. Transport helicopters. Black Hawks.

  From here, several sets of rotors pounded softly at his eardrums. But they were still too far away for their guns…

  Three of the Little Birds began to accelerate, whilst the other choppers banked away, keeping their distance from the train. Some of the survivors rose across the train, taking aim with their rifles.

  But the trio of aircraft kept rushing forward, staying low, going faster. What are they up to? They’ll overshoot…

  Shoot!

  Ian spun towards the group, “Get dow-“

  Machine guns roared into life. His vent sparked and something whistled by Ian’s head. Instinct took over and he dove down into cover. Blood blasted out of the exposed survivors as they were blown away like dandelions under the weapons fire.

  Damnit!

  Engines screamed as the Little Birds raced over their heads. “Where the hell did they get that shit from!?” someone cursed.

  “Just bloody start shooting them!” Jack bellowed back.

  As the survivors opened fire, Ian took aim and fired a few shots at the nearest aircraft. Shots sparked off the machines as they began to bank back round. “Stick to the vents!” Ian barked, sliding to the other side of his own, keeping it between him and the flying murder machines.

  More bullets pinged around them as the helicopters finished turning and fired again. Someone screamed as the machines whined past. He tried to fire again, but as his shots missed, the gun clicked. “I’m out!”

  “Catch!”

  He swivelled, catching the two magazines in one hand as Jack turned and started firing again. Ian swapped the old magazine out, glancing up and down the train to find a few bodies already scattered across the rooftop. If it’s already this bad up here, how’s it going down below-

  He shook his head, he couldn’t over think it now, We need another tactic! This ain’t working…

  Ian stared at the helicopters as they began to bank back round. Those things can only take so much punishment, if only we can fo- idiots! We should have done that from the start!

  “Jack!” he shouted, and his friend snapped up from behind the vent. “Focus on one helo!”

  The rotors still screamed in his ears, but Jack must have got the message. Grinning, he started shouting the plan down the train.

  The choppers finished their turn, coming back at them.

  “Ian!” Jack shouted, “Go for the leader, in the middle!”

  He nodded and took aim.

  As the chopper’s closed in, the defenders opened fire. This time, more sparks flew off the central chopper and by pure chance, the cockpit glass cracked as a lucky round found its mark. Ian kept firing, grinding his teeth. Come on! Come on!

  Something snapped, and the chopper banked hard to the side- right towards his wingman. Turbines screamed as the two pilots swung their machines out of the way, the central one diving underneath as the other pulled up hard.

  Their firing runs were ruined, as the pair tore away from the train.

  The third aircraft kept coming, machine guns blurting into life. Metal screeched around him as Ian flinched and adjusted his aim. The hail of defender bullets drifted towards it, battering the little helicopter when suddenly, smoke erupted out of the back. With a pained shriek from its turbine, it lurched sideways, drunkenly hugging the ground as it fled.

  Got one!

  In the distance though, the flock of four choppers – the ones not engaged in the attack - broke apart, with the two smaller escorts moving towards them.

  Ah shit.

  Reloading, Ian levelled the gun onto the new attackers.

  The bullet whistled past his ear, bouncing off something metal. Ian rolled up and over the vent, jamming his back against it as another chopper slid alongside the train, strafing the carriages with its machine guns. More screams – human and machine - blew past his ears. He tried to snap the handgun back up, but more tracers flew past and he was forced back down. The whine of turbines only pounded his drums further.

  Shot after shot continued to pound the train, every time Ian even stuck his head up, he was greeted by more bright sparks and chipped metal.

  So he huddled against the vent, head tucked down as he tried to shield himself from the hail of bullets. Come on! Just give us a chance to breathe!

  The roar of guns spluttered out, leaving only the whirl of turbines and the wind whipping around the train.

  He lifted his head, expecting another weapon to start blasting away at him. But nothing came.

  The choppers had rolled away from the train, proceeding to open up the distance between them and their target… leaving a dozen bodies scattered across the carriage rooftops. All of them, not just theirs. The train shuddered, and one of the bodies slowly slid off the edge and onto the tracks below.

  Jack emerged, rifle hung to one side as he looked up and down the carriage with a mix of horror and disbelief. At the next vent along, one surviving gunman hefted himself up to his feet, clutching his stained leg.

  Ian could only stare at the helicopters as they peeled away, slowly clenching his free hand into a fist.

  Why? They’re getting rid of all witnesses now?

  The helicopters kept their distance, just out of range. He wanted to lash out, somehow bat them out of the sky with a wave of his hand as if they were nothing more than flies. But the truth nagged at the back of his head, it was an impossible act.

  “What… what are they up to?” asked their surviving comrade, leaning on his vent.

  Ian frowned, They could easily finish us. So what are they-

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  “The transport!” Jack’s finger shot out, as one of the Black Hawks tilted and closed in, moving past the Little Birds and further towards the front of the train.

  “Damnit…” Ian growled, the realisation settling in. “They were just clearing us out! Make it easier to get on!”

  “Or they could stop the train!” Jack shouted, hefting the last survivor of their carriage to his feet proper. “Get everyone still alive in the carriages, get someone into the loco!”

  The survivor blinked, standing there.

  “Now damnit!” Jack screamed, shaking the survivor by the shirt. As his body shuddered, his head nodded as if on a spring. Jack let go, and the gunman shot half-running, half-limping to the nearest ladder.

  Jack turned to Ian, a frown forming, “We’ve not got much time, come on!”

  There was no time to comment on Jack’s actions now, he turned to see the Black Hawk now hovering alongside the locomotive, where the side door was already swinging open.

  Jack broke into a sprint, headed for the front. Grunt barely registering to Ian’s ears, he leapt to the next carriage, where a thump just reached Ian over the wind as his friend continued his charge. Grip tightening onto the handgun, Ian ran after him.

  The first jump was easy, clearing the gap and holding his balance with little more than a flick of his arm. His foot nearly slipped over the edge as he jumped the second time, landing awkwardly as his ankle bent, slowing him down as he stabilised himself.

  But as he leapt for the third time…

  Ian’s agonising scream pierced his skull. He slammed onto the roof, arm protesting as he landed, then drowned out by the invisible claws and teeth ripping through his flesh. Something called out, and he half lifted, half prodded his head up. Jack looked to him in alarm, started to backpedal-

  No!

  He threw his free arm in his direction, his lips peeling back. “Go!”

  Jack froze, some muddled curse reaching Ian as his friend turned and sprinted on.

  The pain faded, only it continued to throb and poke at his body. I… I don’t have much time…

  Groaning, Ian shoved himself up to his knees. He stared down the train, Jack landing on the second last carriage before the locomotive itself…

  The helicopter hovered practically on top of the first carriage, allowing its troops to leap out.

  Ian could only watch, heart pounding as the three Nyúlfur landed, fur ruffled by the wind, assault rifles readied and the cold glint of sword handles visible over their backs.

  A fourth leaned out as Jack’s rifle fired. The wolven troops dove for the vents, teeth bared as they managed to get their taller forms into cover. A retort of gunfire responded, and Jack rolled away behind another vent.

  Growling as his legs throbbed, as if something had sunk its hidden teeth into him, Ian clambered back upright and began to stagger forward. Jack snapped back up and fired back at his attacks, trying to somehow pin the Nyúlfur team in place.

  A golden Nyúlfur shot forward, a blur in his vision as their gun fired. A red tracer flew by Jack’s head before he could get down again. The Nyúlfur gunner, now visibly female, stopped in her tracks to focus her bursts at Jack’s vent. Behind her, three more Nyúlfur leapt out of the Black Hawk, swinging their weapons at him.

  Ian reached the carriage edge and jumped, landing with a thud. His foot slid forward, Ian’s heart racing as he struggled to keep himself steady. Blood! Careful now!

  The female Nyúlfur swivelled her gun at him, teeth almost glinting as her brown eyes blinked, “VIP!”.

  A shot blazed along her shoulder. A yelp escaped as she jerked sideways back into cover. Ian could feel something burn by his side, little more than an itch to the pulsing ache just before he crashed into the nearest vent, his shoulder throbbing harder. “Travis wants him alive! Take out the other ape!”.

  Travis!

  More gunshots followed another curse. Another bite into his side, another jab of pain. Gritting his teeth, he glanced round the vent to see one brown-furred Nyúlfur step out of cover, moving towards Jack’s vent as his teammates supported him.

  Ian fired the handgun. Blood spurted as two shots cut straight through the wolf’s leg, sending the Nyúlfur howling back to cover. Guns still hurt them at least! No wonder they aren’t rushing us!

  He barely slipped back into cover when the tracer skimmed through the air, and more rounds screaming as they battered Ian's vent. “Can’t we just kill him too!?” someone shouted.

  “Boss’ orders!” shouted a white-furred Nyúlfur, trying to lean out of cover.

  “You can tell Travis to piss off!” Ian roared, firing at the white-furred Nyúlfur, his head snapping back out of the way.

  More gunshots rang out, two humans somehow managing to keep six practically superhuman werewolves from advancing. Ian felt a surge of joy, almost grinning. They were holding them off! But that spark of hope quickly faded.

  They called him a VIP. They wanted him alive. Were they truly holding back just to get at him?

  The wind continued to whip around them, each bullet flinging another fragment of metal into the air. He half expected the fight to last for hours, but as the second minute dripped by another Nyúlfur voice managed to overwhelm the roar of the helicopter turbine and the wind with one enormous shout. “They want us off! Get to the chopper!”

  “What?! We’ve just got on!”

  Ian leaned against the vent, focusing on the words as he checked over the pistol. A single shot left.

  “We’re out of time! They’ve got 002 armed! Leave them!” shouted the commander.

  Two Nyúlfur scrambled for the returning chopper. What now!? Out of time for what?! He tried to dig out the memory, that number, 002. It had been mentioned back in the warehouse and laboratory. And the scientists… if the guards were any indication, the scientists were terrified. Just what the fuck is 002?

  “To hell with that! We’re not leaving the bastard now!”

  The brown-furred Nyúlfur that Ian had shot moments before vaulted over his vent, gun blazing and forcing Jack to keep his head down as he bolted down the deck. “Cray get back here!”

  Jack sprung up, weapon swivelling.

  The Nyúlfur was on him, fist slamming into his chest to send him flying into the next vent with a sharp crack.

  Ian started to lift the gun, but the werewolf was already on top of him. A hefty swing swatted the gun aside as he fired. Ian threw a punch, but it had only impacted air when something sailed into his gut. Air rushed out of his lungs, and as he tried to breathe back as a furred vice clamped down on his throat.

  Looking down on him, the Nyúlfur snarled. The pistol slipped out of Ian’s fingers as he began to claw at the freak’s grip. His lungs screamed, demanding air as he gagged down nothing.

  Orange eyes seemed to glow, the Nyúlfur’s grip tightening, “Should just kill you-“

  Blood splattered into Ian’s eyes. He slammed them shut just as the fingers peeled away. He collapsed to the deck, coughing as he tried to breathe, unable to see.

  “Cray!” came the pained shriek.

  Whipping a hand across his face, Ian’s vision returned. The brown-furred Nyúlfur was stumbling back down the deck, wheezing as hands grasped his throat. Jack was propped up against the new vent, rifle barrel smoking.

  Ian’s gaze snapped back round to the Nyúlfur. His eyes wide and a tiny stream of blood running through his fingers.

  A round slammed into the ground next to him, and Ian dove back behind the next vent as the bullets stuck the mark.

  “Someone grab him!”

  “No shit!”

  “I know it hurts! Just hang on!”

  For a few more seconds, Ian kept his head down until the shots finally ceased. Ian snapped his head round, just as the injured Nyúlfur, now limp, was yanked up into the helicopter by the female Nyúlfur. The single Nyúlfur left on the train fired one last shot before leaping aboard himself.

  Jack swivelled out, his shots sparked off the helo as it banked away. The human didn’t stop, still blasting away until at last the rifle dully clicked empty.

  In the distance, the Little Birds started to drift away, forming up around the transport.

  Ian pulled a grimace as his body ached again, but also from concern. Something nagged at him. Something’s wrong. They could have taken us down at any time. Why back out now? That 002?

  A cheer erupted from the wind and turbine. In front of him, a giant grin stretched across Jack’s face, “That’s right!” he cursed, “Get out of here motherfuckers!”.

  What am I missing?

  “We better get down.” Jack continued, glancing at Ian with his back turned. “They’re going to need the help.”

  The wind continued to whip around them, still screaming…

  Another turbine!

  “Wait!” Ian cursed, eyes settling on the six choppers, one smoking as they accelerated away. “Where’s the other Hawk?!”

  “The Hawk?” Jack's eyes narrowed, and then widened as the realisation settled in.

  Ian opened his mouth.

  The turbine screamed.

  He blinked as he tracked the source… and as the shot boomed in his ear.

  As his eyes opened again, Jack staggered back. His rifle clattered on the rooftop, eyes even wider and face pale.

  The two men’s eyes looked down at the gaping hole in his gut, dripping and soaked with blood.

  Jack stepped backwards, eyes fluttering... and his foot slipped over the carriage edge.

  Ian shot forward as Jack began to fall. He screamed his name, clawing for his jacket.

  But his hand only grasped thin air as he vanished.

  He skidded to a halt, arms flapping to hold himself back. “JACK!”

  But it was too late.

  Jack was already gone.

  Ian swivelled to see the second transport hovering alongside the trains other flank, too distant to leap for. A single grey figure stood at the side door, lowering a large rifle in his grasp.

  Travis!

  He could only snarl at the Nyúlfur… this monster. He wanted to grab something, anything to rip that damn thing apart!

  Travis looked down on him, no doubt seeing the shaking Ian ready to boil over. A devilish grin formed as the Nyúlfur delivered a mock salute.

  Ian snapped.

  He snatched one of the discarded rifles on the roof and took aim. The helicopter was already banking when Ian fired the five rounds, not even sparking or pinging as the Nyúlfur vanished and the helicopter lifted up and away.

  “Travis!” he roared hatefully, shoving himself up to his feet and tossing the useless weapon aside. He watched as the helicopter drifted over the train and moved to follow the others. Come on! You had me! Get me already!

  He was about to dive for another weapon, try and get another shot off...

  That was when everything went white.