A Naraka pack

As far as Dan's eyes could conclude, the truth was that there wasn't any sign of a cat strolling around, anywhere.
He had scanned every corners around him, to the point of his neck begin to get rigid. His concern was drastically shifting, anyway.
Maybe by following the power cable lines, it'd be possible to get to the main exit of the region. Maybe.

And, what if some of the beasts had raided the train.
What if, those people were already..... "a pack of those monsters could slaughter these unprepared travellers in a heartbeat", Dan thought.

The rain was finally letting up, reduced now to some a soft sprinkling of drops, falling untidily and randomly. The rain would stop soon enough. He could feel that his left leg was getting more mobility. Good.
At this time, he had taken a sloping road lain with an unfinished pavement, passing by a groceries shop, and, located a bit distantly up ahead, a bricolage store, and even more far away, a pharmacy.

Little by little, the houses were getting behind, disappearing from the range of sight. Dan was heading upwards to some kind of plain surround by a large grating with the little shapes of rhombus separating the wire frame of the fence. Shortening the distance, it became noticeable what it really was: an enclosed tennis court.
After the tennis court, there was based a wall extending for at least one kilometer at it covered much of the perimeter at the Dan's left. Far away, a charcoal stately gate restricted the passage to the other side. And, parked in parallel, in front of the brick wall, there was «transportation»!

It was a freight waggon, complete with a decaying amaranth red coachwork in a ludicrous condition, with its beige roof and having two seats of dire shape in the cabin.
The letters 'DODGE', all in caps, inscripted on the hood's nose. "Old" wouldn't quite describe it, although Dan's guesswork that, with a bit of assistance, the engine could start shouldn't be too far off. The rear wheels were somewhat saggy, and rust was firmly nested on the doors.
Ruff edges everywhere, a windshield that looked like it might crack at any time.
A run-of-the-mill jalopy. A knowledgeable person would recognize it as a Dodge Town Amou D-200.

Dan went closer, and as he inspected the vehicle, considering how to get it to start with little problems, more noises drew his attention.
Observing closely, beyond the wall, of which its height was at about the level of Dan's eyes, what could be observed was some shrubs and eucalyptus trees; he could also make out some yellow flowers, the same kind he had seen earlier in the grey-blue accommodations' little garden.

Those bushes were waving and shaking, more encompassed. At first it seemed like it was the wind, but.... An audible moaning sounded, unexpectedly, coming from the surroundings, that area.
And Dan, suddenly, felt...cold; a shivering, freezing cold, a sensation he'd never want to feel any more. Never ever again.

An hoarse voice, in all likelihood from a human, a man. Only lasted for some seconds. Dan once more hesitated, pondering carefully what to do.
He approached the wall:
- Is.... anyone there? - he whispered, visibly nervous. Deeply hoping that he wouldn't get a reply - I'll shoot if I have to. Come out!
His first words could be barely listened, his last ones vehement.

No answer. No more sound. From the darkness behind him came the sound of howling, and then the echo, under the moonlight. Something was coming near.
Dan had to think his counter-measures fast. Hide inside the waggon? It was practically falling to pieces. Would be a poor protection. He could only think of one way.
Appalled, Dan found himself climbing the wall and leaping over to the other side.