Sarai

man-sized. Andlike nothing he’d ever seen before.
Thechittering behind him had become frenzied. Then more howling, thesound of something hitting the barricaded door hard. He flinched,and spun back to the study door, which was now glowing blue aroundits edges. The couch was burning, black tendrils of smoke curlingupwards. He didn’t know what to aim for — the door, the window? —so he tracked his weapon between both, knowing it was only aquestion of seconds before something managed to get tohim.
The buzzingreached a crescendo, then the superheated door melted away; thecouch was now completely ablaze. In the ruined doorway stoodsomething huge, something all sharp edges and points, sickly yellowand dull black.
Dark eyes,devoid of expression, peered at him through the whirling smoke.Jamie felt his jaw drop, wanted to scream, but could only moan interror. Wasp, he thought numbly, a wasp walking upright onsegmented legs that angled obscenely, a double set of what were,for want of a better word, arms protruding from a roundedthorax…and mandibles…he’d been right about the mandibles — therethey were, metallic-looking, with ridges of keratin smackingharshly together as the insect thing clicked out orders to thecreature slavering beside it, something that looked like a crossbetween a man and a wolf. Whatever the hell it was — Jamie couldsee claws, really big claws, flexing and swiping furiously in thesmoky air, as if it wanted to tear him apart. His own reflexestrumped his stunned brain’s lack of action; he squeezed theshotgun’s trigger. The explosion knocked him back, his headconnecting with something hard.
The waspthing and its wolf-like companion had fallen backwards through thedoor, but another wolf was even now prowling towards him, salivadripping from jaws full of large and very sharp fangs. Another wolfpressed hard upon its heels.
Jamiehuddled where he’d fallen against the gun cabinet. There wasnowhere to run, nothing to do. He grasped the shotgun tightly,hoping at least to be able to hit something, to go down fighting,not frightened and screaming…
A noise atthe window made him turn, desperate. Whatever was outside wasraising something that glowed green then blue. The windowshattered, shards of glass exploding inwards. The fire in thedoorway back-drafted as fresh oxygen reached it, and the roomexploded into flame and fury. Whatever, whoever, had been outsidewas now charging through the window; it seemed to spin in mid-air,then landed on its feet and fired a beam of blue light at thethings now clambering over the couch and heading towardshim.
Jamie caught a glimpse of brilliant blueeyes and tawny-brown hair streaked with gold as the creature leapttoward the wolves at the door.
He blinkedhard; stinging tears pouring down his cheeks. What hissmoke-blinded eyes were trying to tell his brain could not be true.It was a cat, he thought incredulously. A frigging catman wearingsome kind of dark leather, a shiny gun-like weapon in one hand, along silver blade in the other — like a samurai.
He stared,shaking his head. He’d gone mad, he decided, totally barking,la-la-land mad. Nothing else could explain what was happening. Theshotgun he clasped still felt real, though, so dammit, time tofight again.
He raisedthe weapon and blindly aimed it before firing. He hoped like hellhe’d hit something, anything. If he survived this, he wanted proof,and a dead wolf-thing or cat-thing would be ample evidence he wasnot insane.
Somethinggrunted — he’d no idea what and at this point, he thought, staringat the ceiling, where smoke roiled and curled in tendrils ofchoking grey, it really didn’t matter. Too much longer trapped hereand he was going to asphyxiate. He began to crawl toward thewindow. All he needed was to get out into the fresh air, get to oneof the trucks …
Somethingstruck him forcefully in the side and he rolled over, gasping atthe pain, one hand grabbing at his ribs. God, it felt like a coupleof them were broken.
Whatever hadhit him turned its head briefly toward him as it barreled forward.Another catman, he realised, watching it leap the couch, headingthrough the door into the darkened, smoke-filledhallway.
They weretaking out the wolf-things, he suddenly realised. There was no signof the wasps; maybe the heat had sent them packing? Although hisvision was fading, he could see flashes of light piercing thechoking black smoke, like scenes from old wartime movies in whichsearchlights tracked enemy planes. Something heavy hit the floor,and he heard agonized screaming and the smell of something evenmore pungent and unpleasant than the smoke.
Dazed, hetucked himself once more into a low crouch, trying to ignore hishurting ribs. He’d lost the shotgun, but no matter…he just neededto get out of here. Staying low to the floor where the air wasclearer, he started crawling again.
He couldsmell nothing but smoke, see nothing in the swirlingparticle-filled gloom. He sucked down a ragged breath, thethickened air sawing harshly down his throat, his respiratorytract, spilling into his congested lungs in a burningtide.
Hisoutstretched hands had found the wall. Thank you, God. He shuffledand found the windowsill. Grabbing the bottom of it with bothhands, he screamed in pain as his fingers were pierced by jaggedbroken glass but he heaved himself up and through, knowing he hadno choice.
He screamedagain as he fell forward, a glass shard stabbing through the denimof his jeans into his thigh. But nothing mattered except gettingclear of the fire.
He hit thewooden floor and rolled until he fell off the edge of the porchinto a garden bed. He lay there, panting heavily, drawing airraggedly into his beleaguered lungs and expelling it in greathurting gasps. After a few seconds, he pulled himself togetherenough to crawl further from the building, finally looking back tosee gouts of flame bulging out windows, creeping up exterior walls,disappearing under the eaves and emerging onto the roof.
The fire hadtaken hold, devouring everything in its path. Jamie wanted to weepbut hadn’t the strength to do anything other than lie in the dirtwatching as the house that had been his family’s home forgenerations burned to the ground.
Then herealised that over the sound of flames hissing and wood contractingas it burned, he could hear nothing else. No roars or snarls, noclanging of sword against sword. There was nothing; even the firealarms were silent.
Maybe thecreatures had escaped through the