Ignoring Marcus, the second guard shouted up at Weeks, "What you think you doin', boy, bringin' that horse up here? Take that back where it belongs."

There was a sudden influx of men streaming through the gate, running wild-eyed from the not-yet-visible threat at their heels, no one wanting to be last in line.

"Can't you see they're almost here?" Marcus screamed, as much to his fellow inmates as to their keepers. "Shut the damn gate before it's too late!"

"Too late for what?" the senior guard scoffed. "All I can say is, you both better have the warden's permission to be riding that horse, I tell you what."

"We do! He sent us to tell you to close the gate!"

"Is that right? Why don't I ask him that?"

"He ain't here!"

"He damn sure is."

A manic, burly figure came rushing out of the darkness. People scattered out of his way, not for the usual reason that he was the warden, but because something was clearly wrong with him. Even from a distance, he looked like a rabid animal.

"Warden!" the guard said in alarm, leaping to help him. "You okay? I was just-"

With brutal force, the guard was slammed backward to the ground, the tails of Warden Henrickson's wool coat covering them both like a cape as Officer Shoney's breath was sucked from his lungs.

Utterly stunned, the second guard stood by helplessly, waiting for something to make sense. Marcus knocked him down and wrestled his shotgun away, shouting, "Everybody inside! Just go!" Righteous rode the stallion through the gate, forcing an opening in the packed mob, followed closely by Voodooman, dragging the guard, and a few dozen stragglers.

Then there was no more time-the men inside heaved the high, sliding gate shut against the cries of frantic late-comers, who were racing up the hill with nightmarish freak jobs all around them. "Please God, let us in!" someone shrieked.