“Woah, woah, STOP !” Jack yelled. The truck slid to a halt, inches from a fallen redwood blocking the road. “Jesus, Ted!”

“Sorry,” his younger brother said. “But I thought I saw something.”

Jack looked out into the darkened forest around them. “Lights.”

Ted turned on the floodlights, and illuminated Jack’s worst nightmare.

They had tracked a group of lycanthropes for 3 weeks, across 5 states. 6 or 7 of them. Now, Jack counted 30, 35, 40, and more were bleeding from the woods, surrounding them.

They heard a crash as two weres pushed another tree down across the road. “We are well and truly screwed, Jack. Boom time?” Ted asked.

10 years, 237 weres, and the Wilkinson brothers had finally become the hunted. But they at least could take alot more with them. “When you’re ready,” Jack said.

One were leaped onto the hood, as two more climbed in the back. Jack nodded. Ted flipped a switch, and the layer of C4 hidden under the truck’s bed liner turned their world into light, heat, sound, then nothing.