I guess I don’t know what I expected when Genghis—having paused outside the vehicle’s windows to sniff at the crisp air—leapt forward suddenly and vanished into the gloom. I suppose I was expecting the same result as the last twenty times he’d done this; which was nothing (although he had, at one point, emerged with a dead possum in his mouth). What I was not expecting was the wooly mountain that emerged—with Genghis clinging to its back—a thing easily the size of an industrial dump truck; which thundered past us on our left even as Eska pressed the knife to my throat and Carter readied his rifle—indeed, even as I put the Jeep into gear and prayed, having already been nicked once, that I wouldn’t displease her, the f*****g driving critic, again.
“Very well, Mr. Hayes—that’s it,” said Cart
