If he hadn’t been so strong, he might not have been able to handle it so easily. And it was still way too long for his arms. The butt barely fit into his shoulder. His new muscles rolling under his green skin, he lifted the thing, looked down the length of it, and figured out the sights. Just put that blade on the end where he wanted the bullet to go.

They were still in the stairs but coming slowly and carefully. He would have to move really fast.

93

Talina, a step behind Kalico, caught the odor: blood, a lot of it. Fresh. And mixed in? The scent of a putrefying body. It seemed to cloy in the staircase, thickening as they descended. The narrow confines of the sialon walls, the close ceiling, the three of them, jammed together? Nothing about this was good. Where did she go if this all turned to shit?

And there was the sound, a rising and falling humming coupled with a deep thrumming. Nothing a normal human could have discerned, not in the high and low frequency ranges her modified hearing could pick up. Even as faintly as she heard it, the almost musical tones had to be organic. Somewhat mindful of the chime. And this, she had the gut feeling, was a kind of communication. But saying what?

That fleeting glimpse of the little boy? That did nothing to ease Talina’s fears. The kid had painted himself green, his thick shock of dark hair looking mussed. Filthy, even. She’d have sworn the eyes were too big for the head and oddly black. Inhuman. Dangerous.

“Something’s really wrong here,” she whispered.

From down below, Talina heard a different melody, familiar, the notes rising and falling. Her heart skipped, and she recognized the tune: “London Bridge.” A kid’s nursery rhyme. A chill played down her back.

Ahead of her, Kalico called, “This is the Supervisor. Hello? Little boy, who are you? Where is everyone?”

In answer, a child’s voice sang,

“Now the pod is fallen down, broken down.

“Namby Pamby is a clown . . .”

Kalico, started down the steps, even faster. Talina put a hand out, grabbing Kalico’s shoulder, stopping her a couple of steps short of the bottom. Leaning close she whispered, “Something’s really not right. I’m smelling blood and a rotting corpse.”

“Off to prison you must go, you must go, you must go.

“Now death courts the lady gray,

“My fair lady.”

Talina wondered, What kind of sick song is that?

It happened so fast. One instant the landing was empty, the next a naked little green boy with a large rifle leaped into sight. Talina wrenched Kalico aside and down, desperate to get a clear shot.

Little as he was, the kid still held the rifle remarkably steady, the black muzzle pointed up the stairway. Right on Talina’s center. She saw it as if in slow motion.