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wild and spun, barely aware of Jude at the balustrade, pointing his rifle down at the water. Just as Ryder and Oliver pulled me over the railing, the scissorclaw leapt from the water, bounded off one of the pier’s pillars, and smashed into the boardwalk behind us.
    â€œShit!” Jude pivoted and opened fire, his bullets slamming into the scissorclaw’s shoulder. Shrieking, black blood bursting, the monster surged down the pier and into the fog. Its ghostlight turned the mist into turbulent blue storm clouds lit from the inside.
    â€œC’mon!” I took off running, knowing we had to keep a visual on the monster. It sprang up to one of the pier’s second-story bridges, shattering the railings. Bits of broken wood rained down. I took potshots at it as it ran along the upper walkway.
    â€œMicheline, it’ll outrun us,” Oliver shouted into the comm.
    I touched my comm: “Only on foot!” I pulled the trigger, my bullet shattering a window behind the monster, dammit . “It’s on the east side of the pier, headed for the pier’s garages.”
    â€œWe’ll head it off,” Ryder said.
    Sprinting past the last of the shops, I watched the scissorclaw break out onto the suspended walkway between the pier attractions and the parking garage. I fired, missed, but a volley of rifle fire exploded over the pier. A few steps more, and I spotted Ryder and Oliver on the west side of the walkway—Oliver firing on the necro, Ryder sprinting for the motorcycle parked in the street by our Humvees.
    A few bullets hit home—black blood hit the pavement with little wet plops . With a snarl, the creature scrambled off the catwalk, landing in the street below and behind the cover of several parked vehicles. It tore south, the fog frothing in its wake, headed toward the pier buildings.
    Ryder’s motorcycle growled, thrumming deep and low. He pulled up beside me. Without a word, I grabbed his shoulder and kicked my leg over the bike’s back seat. I clung to him with one arm and my thighs, gripping my gun in my right hand; I couldn’t think about the pain in my left.
    â€œDon’t lose it!” I shouted. Ryder hit the throttle so hard, our back tire spun before it found purchase on the pavement. We shot forward, the force shoving my guts into my spine and snapping my head back. Up ahead, the scissorclaw sliced through the fog, zero-to-sixty fast. We screamed past the pier warehouses in pursuit, the street empty thanks to the barricades that cordoned off this section of the city.
    â€œHow many bullets do you have left?” Ryder shouted over the wind.
    â€œSix,” I shouted back. There was no using his two-handed rifle while riding double on a motorcycle, so the Colt would have to do.
    â€œDammit,” he said, which translated roughly as Not enough.
    We were gaining, the Bay Bridge coming into focus through the fog. The scissorclaw ducked toward a warehouse. I switched my Colt to my left hand and fired. The recoil hitting my injured palm like a butcher knife, my aim wavering. Five. The creature screeched, leaping straight at the building’s wall and bounding off, changing directions fast as an Olympic swimmer. It streaked past us, heading down Folsom Street.
    Ryder jerked the handlebars, letting the bike slide into the turn. Righting us, he cranked the throttle and sent us flying down Folsom in pursuit. The scissorclaw charged straight for the chain link barricades set half a mile down the street. Several cadets patrolled the outer perimeter, black ghosts in the fog, armed with M16s. They protected the civilians stuck in rush hour, the pedestrians. The innocent.
    Shouts went up seconds before the scissorclaw smashed into the chain link fence. With a metallic groan, the fence collapsed, trapping the cadets underneath. Breaking them, from the shouts and shrieks. The scissorclaw plowed into the pedestrians, clearing the sidewalk with a savage whip of its