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                What I do know is that when it comes to things a few seconds ahead, Jack is pretty accurate. Especially when those few seconds are going to contain danger. It’s one of the things that makes him so good in a fight, because there isn’t anything unexpected for him.
                “What is it, Jack?” I repeat.
                “I’m not sure,” he says. “I just get the feeling that whatever we’re going to find in there, it isn’t going to be pleasant.”
                “Does that mean we shouldn’t go in?” I ask. “If there’s a threat…”
                Jack shakes his head. “Even if it’s dangerous, it’s still the first sign of living things we’ve had since we left the tower. It might be able to tell us more about what’s going on, no matter what it is. We need to go in.”
     
     
     
     

 
    FOUR
     
     
     
     
    J ack’s hand goes to the waistband of his pants and he pulls out a gun, a high caliber semi-automatic pistol that isn’t quite the same as the weapon Hammond’s men took from him.
                “I took it from the store in the mall,” Jack explains in answer to my questioning look, before slipping into the library. I don’t know if leading with a gun would be the right strategy normally, because if it turns out that there are ordinary people in here, then they’re more likely to panic when they see the weapon, but I trust Jack. I trust his senses. If he says that there is danger ahead, then there’s probably danger ahead.
                We head deeper into the library, past blank shelves of books, lit through a skylight in addition to the windows. That only seems to add to the shadows the book shelves cast, turning the place into a maze lit by dappled patches of light. We pad silently towards the far corner of the building, where it seems like the flashes we spotted came from. There’s another door there, with Reading Room over it in elegant lettering.
                There’s another flash of light, glowing beneath the door. At least, I think there is. It’s hard to tell, with the light and shadows of the library confusing things. It’s something, anyway, which is why we move over to that inner door. It’s already ajar, and this close to it I can smell an odd scent. Like copper and burning plastic, mixed in with burning paper and other things. Other things I know the scent of only too well, because it’s a scent that still comes to me whenever I think of all the people I’ve killed with my power.
                It’s the scent of burning flesh. A scent that comes complete with a scream, which cuts through the silence of the library before fading to a bubbling gurgle and disappearing completely.
                We’re through the door in an instant. Someone is in trouble, and that means that we can’t just stand by. Jack won’t, and I won’t. Not if there’s a chance to help someone. Except that as soon as we ge „t inside, it’s easy to see that it’s too late to help anyone here. On the floor, there’s a pile of charred remains, fire blackened fragments of bone sticking out of a pile of ashes, the remains of a plastic and metal chair melted in with that pile. Whoever this was, and I know from the speed of my own powers that it could be the person who screamed, we’re too late to help them. Far too late. I don’t even know if we’ll be able to help ourselves, because what’s standing over that pile of burned flesh…
                It’s larger than a human by a couple of feet, and there’s something vaguely reptilian about the way it moves as it sniffs the air. Yet there’s also something terrifyingly human about it too. The heart of it seems to be a human torso, and something that might once have been a human head, before horns rose up from it and it changed to accommodate a bestial maw. Ragged, leathery wings stick out from its back,