Born Again

Chapter twenty four

Alright, everybody hide!

   The words were on Thomas' lips but he couldn't bring himself to speak. He knew he should tell the others to hide, hopefully drawing the wolves to himself and protecting his friends, but he couldn't.

   Minho was the first to react. He pulled out his B.B. gun and shot the closest wolf, making it yelp in pain.

"Run!" Newt yelled, rushing past the injured wolf. The other boys followed close behind with Griever straining at his leash, barking. It seemed to encourage the wolves to fight.

   "Griever, shut up!" Alby yelled, dragging his dog along.

   Griever stopped barking but he continued to strain.

"Up the trees!" Minho yelled, shooting behind blindly as he continued to run.

"No!" Alby protested. "Griever can't climb trees. I'm not going without him."

"We can't outrun wolves," Thomas said.

   To prove his point, a wolf caught up and snapped at Newt, making him fall.

"Newt!" Thomas yelled, immediately turning around.

Before he could help, Newt kicked the animal off, grabbed a large stick, and threw it at the wolf in one quick motion. He picked up another stick.

"Back off!" He yelled, jabbing the stick at the growling wolves. The animals had come to a stop and were waiting to see how dangerous Newt's new weapon was.

Thomas and Minho joined Newt. Alby tried to stand next to them but Minho pushed him back.

"Stay back," Minho ordered his friend.

"But, Minho—"

A wolf snapped but Newt quickly pushed it away. Thomas picked up a stick as well.

"Alby," Thomas said, his voice shaking. "You need to leave. Now."

Alby frowned. "But I can—"

"No!" Thomas and Minho yelled together.

"Just take care of your dog," Newt pleaded before turning back to the wolves. "Find your dad. He can help."

"Fine," Alby grumbled. He backed away slowly.

The wolves eyed him warily but they stayed focused on Thomas and Newt's sticks. Minho shook his gun in frustration.

"Uh, guys?" Minho said. "I'm out of bullets."

"Maybe you should—" Thomas was cut off by the largest wolf, presumably the alpha, took a daring snap. He succeeded in getting Thomas to drop his stick.

The three took cautious steps back as the wolves continued to approach.

Thomas' heart pounded in his chest. This was it. It wasn't just Alby anymore. They were all going to die.

The wolves charged.

But they never reached the boys.

In a furry ball of mass, Griever bolted past Thomas and knocked down the alpha. He snapped a warning at another before and snapping a warning at another before biting at the alpha who was struggling to stand. The pack closed in to help protect their leader.

Thomas glanced back to see no sign of Alby. He hoped that meant he let Griever go voluntarily and wouldn't come back.

"Tommy, we have to go!" Newt said, gesturing with his stick.

Thomas gave one last look at Griever. He seemed to be holding his own but more wolves kept crowding around.

Thomas turned and sprinted after his friends.

Despite Griever's valiant rescue attempt, a few wolves still noticed Thomas, Minho, and Newt running away and took off after them. The boys had a good head start but wolves were fast.

They made it to the tent with barely any time to spare.

"In! In!" Minho yelled, opening the flap and ushering his friends inside. "Get the gun!"

As soon as Thomas made it in, he lunged for the shotgun Alby's dad left in the corner and hoisted it. He turned around just in time to see Minho tackled to the ground.

"Minho!" Thomas yelled, running out to save his friend.

Before Thomas could react, Alby appeared from the trees and leaped on the wolf, tackling it off of Minho.

  Newt pulled Minho to his feet and got him inside the tent. Thomas cocked the gun and aimed but wasn't able to get a clear shot.

By that point, the other wolves arrived, biting and snapping and tearing Alby to pieces. He screamed and kicked and thrashed, trying to keep the animals off, but it was doing nothing to stop them.

Thomas felt his body have a mind of its own. They were ready to drop the gun and dive at Alby, attempting to pull him out of the wolves jaws before failing miserably, resulting in the death of his friend.

But he refused.

Thomas would not, would not, lose another friend to his dreams.

Thomas threw the gun to the side and tackled all the wolves at once, making them yelp in surprise before quickly regaining their composure. They fell off of Alby and started snapping at Thomas instead.

The sharp pain was unbearable but he didn't let them out from underneath his body. He wasn't going to let them hurt Alby or Newt or Minho.

If the dreams had to kill somebody, it was going to be Thomas, nobody else.

His vision started going fuzzy and he heard a muffled Newt screaming for help. Thankfully, the wolves left him alone, fully focused on Thomas.

Just when he thought he was going to pass out, he saw Alby's dad rush forward and pick up the shotgun.

Three bullets later, the wolves were dead, collapsed on top of Thomas who groaned in pain.

Newt was on him in a second. He pushed the dead animals off, giving Thomas a tiny bit of relief.

"What were you thinking?" He asked, tearing Thomas' bloody shirt off in an attempt to check out his multiple wounds.

Thomas' voice sounded muffled but he struggled to answer anyway. "I just thought—"

"No," Newt interrupted. "Save your energy."

"I . . ." Thomas felt his eyes go dim.

"No, no, no," Newt cried, cradling Thomas' head. "It's okay, Tommy. Stay with me. Stay with me."

That was the last thing he remembered before everything went dark.