“Dirk?” Gary asked, trying to stand. But Dirk was fine, and he grabbed Gary’s arm and helped him up.

“To the river,” Jerico told the two as he turned to the battle beyond. “Run, and don’t stop.”

“Ashhur be with you,” Gary said, leaning some of his weight on Dirk.

“You as well.”

They stumbled west, between the hills and toward the Gihon. They’d taken no turns, the path Darius led them on perfectly straight, and soon they saw the river in the distance. Gary’s shoulder burned, and every breath he took felt like fire in his lungs. Dirk didn’t look much better, but guilty as he felt for burdening his wounded friend, Gary knew he could not run without aid. They glanced back only once, the torches looking like glowing dots in the distance.

It seemed like an eternity, but they reached the river and the waiting boat. Dirk helped him inside, then prepared to push it into the water.

“Wait,” Gary said. His head felt light, but damn did it feel good to sit down. He clutched his shoulder and wished the pain would go away. Dimly, he wondered how badly the creature had scarred his face.

“No,” Dirk said, realizing what he wanted. “Please, no, we can go…”

“We stay.”

Dirk sighed, then shook his head.

“Fine. You’re right.”

They watched and waited for the first to show. A minute later, three men appeared, two relatively unscathed, but the third limped along in their arms, his left leg mangled and missing its foot.

“Hurry,” Gary said, beckoning them to the boat.

“We thought you’d leave,” said one of them.

“Never. Push us off, and then get in, Dirk. This boat’ll float with five.”

Out on the peaceful water, it seemed the fight was a hundred miles away. If not for the pain, Gary might have convinced himself it was a horrible, horrible nightmare. When they reached the other side, one of the men helped him out, and he lay against a tree beside the other wounded man.