Somehow you breakthrough the howling melee and reach the door. The sleepy Wolves are shooting at shadows and each other. You dash across the rotted yard toward your car.

There is a chubby, bearded Wolf sleeping in the car; you lay him out with a single punch as he sits up. Your spare key is just where it belongs, in the fake "mud" under a wheelwell. The Wolves are pouring out of the house after you as you gun the motor. Turn to 301.