He pressed on, descending lower into the cargo hold. Scratches and other noises, hard to distinguish over the increased volume of the engines, made him grip the pistol even tighter. His slung rifle dug into his back.
In front of him was a wooden crate, about a metre and a half high by two metres long. Several holes were drilled in the side of it. Alex removed his mask and put it back in its pouch. The others followed suit.
‘f**k, my eyes are watering,’ Kevin said. ‘What is that? Cat piss?’
Alex sniffed the ventilation holes in the crate. Kevin was right. He pulled a mini Maglite torch from one of the pouches in his vest and turned it on. Pointing the beam into the hole he knelt and, closing one eye, looked inside. The whole crate shuddered and a snarling, rasping growl from inside made
