HE ALMOST DIED RIGHT THERE.

If he hadn’t looked over his shoulder in time to see the Pterogator gliding down on him, it would have been all over but the funeral. Instead, Dr. Newton dived backward into the ground and the creature overshot him. The Pterogator was surprised by the move, thudding onto the grass and rolling with a crash into the underbrush. It gave its loud, roaring cry, and nearby, two nesting cormorants took to the sky in a rush of wings and squawks.

Dr. Newton wasted no time. He took off running in the other direction. The full moon allowed him to see the ground before him. He tried to recall everything he’d learned about the Pterogators. They could glide, and could run on land as fast as alligators. But they were more ferocious. This was not a good situation.

He didn’t need to look back to know the beast was coming after him. It was thundering across the ground, crashing through the underbrush and saw grass. Dr. Newton could hear its ragged breathing close behind him. If he could stay ahead of it, run just fast enough that he didn’t stumble and fall, it might get tired or find something else to eat.

The Pterogator roared again, and Dr. Newton ran faster. He suddenly emerged from a small shoot of mangrove trees and was happy to find himself on a hard-packed dirt road. Maybe his luck was changing. A road meant civilization of some sort — a house, a ranger station, even a fishing camp. Turning to the southeast, he kept running, staying to the far side of the road, away from the trees. A few yards along and he realized he couldn’t hear the Pterogator behind him. It must have given up the chase.

He was wrong.

Ten yards in front of him, the creature burst out of the mangroves and onto the road. Dr. Newton skidded to a halt. The moonlight allowed him to get a good look at the creature. It was terrifying. Its elongated neck was straight up, and it studied him with large, owl-like eyes that shone red.

There was no choice but for him to run in the other direction. The Pterogator roared again and raced after him. If not for the relatively smooth surface of the road, the beast would have run him down. But his legs were cramping and he was tiring. He needed to get some distance between them. It was run or die.

Just as he was about to break into a sprint, he realized it was quiet behind him. He was about to risk a glance over his shoulder when something heavy crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. Tumbling onto the hard-packed surface of the road, he came to rest on his back. Sharp claws raked over his shoulder and he screamed in agony. He could feel the hot breath of the creature on his face. He looked up to see the Pterogator studying him with its predatory eyes. From this close, the teeth in its mouth looked like hunting knives.

Dr. Newton wiggled and twisted, but the creature outweighed him by several hundred pounds. The beast’s clawed forearms were holding his shoulders flat on the ground so that he couldn’t breathe. Its claws pierced his flesh again. Dr. Newtown tried to scream, but with no air in his lungs, he found he couldn’t even do that.

The Pterogator reared its head back, but before the giant mouth could reach him, Dr. Newton swung his cast-covered arm and connected with the side of the creature’s head. The blow startled it. As the most fearsome predator in the swamp, it was probably used to pursuing its food, but once it had the prey in its grasp it would feed without resistance.

Dr. Newton swung again and again. The third time, the plaster cast shattered against the creature’s bony head. Momentarily stunned, it rolled to the side, and despite his intense misery, Dr. Newton scrambled to his feet and sprinted down the road. Each step caused searing pain to course through him. Knowing he needed to remain as quiet as possible, he tried everything he could think of to muffle his groans.

But the creature had a sharp sense of smell. It would inhale the odor of blood from his injuries and would not stop pursuing him. Eventually he would drop from blood loss, shock, or exhaustion, and the creature could feed on him at will.

Dr. Newton did not give up. He managed to run a few more minutes with only muffled groans. A quick glance over his shoulder showed nothing. Had he managed to drive it off? Perhaps the blows from his cast had deterred it, and the beast had moved on in search of easier prey.

Dr. Newton’s joy was short lived. From the woods to his side, he heard the Pterogator lumbering through the trees. He tried peering through but couldn’t get a glimpse of it. In his rapidly weakening state, he couldn’t tell if it was running along the ground or flinging itself from tree to tree. Then the Pterogator gave its awful roar, and things went from incredibly bad to monumentally worse.

Ahead of him in the woods, he heard the answering cry of another Pterogator.

Dr. Newton knew from the reports that these hybrid monsters were breeding. It now appeared that the one pursuing him had called to its mate for reinforcements.

Up ahead, the second Pterogator appeared in the road. It was just as ugly and vicious-looking as the other one, which chose that exact moment to emerge from the trees to his rear. They looked at him, their heads darting to and fro, studying him with demonic eyes.

Dr. Newton didn’t hesitate. He charged back into the trees. The creatures squawked in surprise and took off after him.

It was difficult to keep track of them over the sound he made crashing through the trees and underbrush. He darted around a cypress and sprinted ahead when one of the Pterogators lunged out of the darkness and snapped at him. It missed, but only barely. If he didn’t think of something soon, he was done for. For a moment he considered trying to stay completely still. Predators were attracted by sound, motion, and smell.

Smell.

They could smell him. If he could somehow counteract their sense of smell, he might have a chance. It was his only hope.

A few yards farther into the woods, a gap opened in the trees. Beneath his feet, the ground grew softer. He sank up to his knees in swampy, muddy water, nearly shouting with joy.

As quickly as he could, he covered his hair, face, and body in a thick coating of mud. He crawled to the edge of the small pit and lay on his back with just his face sticking above the surface. He tried to consciously slow his breathing. Pterogators could hear almost as well as they could see.

The animals called to each other. They were closing in. A few moments later, they glided out of the trees and landed on the ground just yards away. They carefully sniffed the air, turning in quick circles, their heads leaning one way and then the other as they listened for any sound that might reveal his whereabouts.

One of them put its nose to the ground, as if it were a bloodhound trying to follow his trail. The small marshy bog he lay in was probably fifteen feet across, and the creatures were sniffing the edge of it, understanding the thing they were chasing had been here but now its scent had mysteriously dissipated.

Dr. Newton willed himself to stillness. His shoulders were burning with pain. It felt to him as if someone had poured gasoline on them and lit a match. He closed his eyes, afraid the Pterogators might recognize the two white dots in the mud and launch themselves at him.

All he could do was listen to them grunt and growl as they circled ever closer. One of them huffed and clawed at the muddy bog. Dr. Newton squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the sharp rake of claws to sever his flesh.

He was unsure how many minutes passed, and whether it was shock or fatigue he couldn’t tell, but he suddenly realized that everything was quiet. The insects and frogs nearby began chirping again. Carefully opening one eye, then the other, he looked out to see the Pterogators were gone. Not taking any chances, he didn’t move for several more minutes. Then, slowly, and as quietly as possible, he lifted himself to his feet.

The pain and loss of blood made him light-headed, but as he carefully crept through the trees and back to the road, he couldn’t help but smile. He had survived a Pterogator attack.

No longer having the strength to run, he plodded along the road. The moon lit his way, riding high in the sky.

Above him in the darkness, several hundred flying shapes crossed through the sky, temporarily blocking the moonlight. Dr. Newton did not look up. He did not see the colony flying along, and did not hear the screeching sound they made when they spotted a lone target stumbling along the road.

They dived toward the ground.