“Holy Mother of God…” Stella’s father gasped out.

Gar fell back a step, while scrambling his shotgun to his shoulder.

“Don’t!” Stella warned.

Gar fired. The blast deafened, smoke flowed from the barrel. It was a stupid potshot, a panicked knee jerk. There was no way he could hit the cat at that distance. Gar expelled the smoking cartridge and one-handedly pumped in another load. But he was already too late.

The beast’s long tail swished once in agitation, then in a burst of muscle, it swung around and dove back into the forest.

“Everyone inside,” her father said. “Gar, call your men back. We need every weapon here to protect the kids.”

Out in the woods, a spat of rifle blasts cracked. A single bloodcurdling scream followed. The three of them remained frozen on the porch. The dark forest went silent. Even the frogs had gone quiet.

Gar kept his cheek pressed to the butt of his shotgun.

“Joe!” Stella’s mother called from inside.

“Into the house,” her father ordered.

As they began to retreat, a new noise sliced through the quiet: a sharp whining. It came from the other side of the house, where the farm’s dock and fuel station jutted into a deepwater channel.

“An airboat!” Stella said.

Someone was coming.

Hopefully with lots of guns.

UNCLE JOE WADED across the great room of the cabin through a sea of children sitting on the floor or huddled in small groups. Wide eyes stared at him. Scoutmasters called out questions, but he was deaf to them. He focused on the large stone fireplace that filled the back wall. To either side, wide windows looked out toward the rear of the house, toward the docks.

He led his daughter and the sheriff’s son across the room.

Gar headed to one window with his walkie-talkie at his lips, shouting for someone to answer him.

Were any of his men still alive out there?

He and Stella moved to the other window, taking up a post shoulder to shoulder. Inside the cabin, they could no longer hear the whine of the airboat. He reached the window and stared out. There was no sign of the boat, only the lights of the dock reflecting off the black water.

What if it wasn’t headed here?

He had no way to radio out. After the storm, they’d been having trouble with the shortwave, a common problem whenever the temperature ran through such extremes. Humidity condensed inside the equipment, wreaking havoc with their reception. The warning call had barely been audible. The radio had shut down completely after that. He’d been meaning to fix it but hadn’t gotten around to it.

He studied the waterway, the only channel into or out of the farm.

The canal was narrow and twisted, but he’d had it dredged deep enough to accommodate the larger tenders that ferried cruise-ship passengers to the farm. To either side, the forest had been groomed to look especially picturesque. The underbrush had been cleared to accentuate the size and majesty of the old-growth cypresses. Flowering plants, strategically placed, added to the beauty, as did the manicured beds of water lilies along both shorelines.

“There!” Stella burst out and pointed.

A sharp light bloomed into existence far down the channel, flickering between trees.

“Two of them!” Stella said, noting a second glow. “They must be heading here!”

“Stay by the window. I’ll go down to the dock.”

“Daddy, no. At least wait until they’re closer. And take Gar with you.”

He hesitated. The first airboat appeared around a bend in the canal. It sailed in a smooth arc, propelled by the giant fan at its stern. Its searchlight speared straight at the cabin, blinding them. He lifted a hand to shield against the brightness.

As the airboat raced at full speed toward the dock, the second appeared behind it, riding the wake of the first. Rising and falling, its light played wildly.

The only warning was a sharp gasp from his daughter.

He blinked against the glare, catching sight of something large leaping out of the woods and flying high. It struck the pilot of the lead air-boat and ripped him out of his seat. Pilot and cat went crashing into the water on the far side, splashing into a bed of water lilies. Before the first wave even washed up onto the bank, the cat bounded out of the shallows and back into the woods. A body floated on its stomach in the water. Its head bobbed farther out in the lilies.

“Daddy!”

Stella pointed back to the empty airboat. Momentum carried it like a missile straight toward the dock.

“The fuel tank!”

The airboat hit the dock at full speed. Its nose shot high as it flew up over the edge. Its underside struck the upright fuel pump and tore it from its stanchions. Gas sprayed as the boat landed atop it, sliding with a scrape of metal on metal. A pole toppled over, shattering an electric lantern.

Sparks danced across the deck.

Oh no…

Joe held his breath.

The other airboat, sensing the danger, tried to turn. It twisted broadside, pushing into its own wake, trying to brake and turn, to get away.

Too late.

A flash of fire, and the explosion ripped high. Joe shoved into his daughter and toppled them both away as the glass in the cabin’s windows blew out. Heat and smoke pounded inside. Sharper screams cut through his ringing ears. He turned to see a flaming dock timber shatter through a window in the kitchen. He heard a rattle of more debris rain over the roof.

He knelt up and crawled back to the window.

The world was on fire. Even the canal was burning with pools of flaming oil. Smoke choked and swirled. He spotted the second airboat crashed upside down at the edge of the channel, tossed there by the blast.

Stella joined him and tugged on an arm. “The house is on fire!”

She pointed to the kitchen. Flames had spread from the flying timber. He glanced up and spotted curls of smoke in the open rafters, along with a telltale glow. The roof had caught fire, lit by the rain of burning debris.

“We have to get the kids out of here!” She turned and called through the cacophony of screaming children. “Gar! Help us get everyone out!”

But the man was already retreating on his own. Blood dripped down his face, cut by broken glass. He shoved kids out of his way and cracked the butt of his shotgun into a parent’s face who tried to stop him.

“Gar!”

Stella made a move to chase after him, but he’d already reached the front door and fled through it.

Joe grabbed his daughter’s elbow. “You and Peg get the kids moving. I’m going for the gun case upstairs. Check with any of the adults. If anyone knows how to handle a firearm, send them to me.”

Stella stood frozen for a moment, scared and half in shock.

“Honey, take the kids back to the campsite. Get those fires blazing brightly.”

Something broke inside her, freeing her. She nodded. Her eyes focused on him more fully. “Daddy, what are you fixin’ to do?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right behind you. If we’re going to survive, we’ll need every weapon we can find.”

A loud crack echoed above. A section of roof opened, raining fiery ash into the room.

He shoved his daughter away from him. “Go!”