The first drops of rain splattered him then so he backed inside and closed the window, then hurried to close the others.

Between the intermittent flashes and rumbles, the apartment was dark and eerily silent. Doug went to the kitchen for some candles. Once he had some light he’d hunt up his cell phone and give Nadj a call. He felt bad about neglecting her today.

He was searching through the miscellaneous drawer when he sensed—or thought he sensed—movement in the hallway. He stopped and squinted into the darkness. A lightning flash revealed nothing. He stepped down the hall and checked the apartment door—dead-bolted as always.

He decided the power failure plus the storm were giving him the creeps.

He went back to searching the drawer and finally found two half-consumed red candles, left over from the Christmastime dinner he and Nadj had shared last year. Now to find a match. One of the downsides to quitting smoking was that he never carried matches anymore.

But then he heard another sound above his rattling within the drawer… like a thump… from his bedroom.

Apprehension rippling across his back, Doug pulled a carving knife from the utensil drawer and stepped toward the bedroom.

“Somebody there?” he called, immediately thinking, What a stupid thing to say.

No reply—not that he’d expected one, and he’d have been shocked witless if anyone had answered. He assumed—prayed—that this was all nothing. It had better be. Because the knife was just for show. He wouldn’t know what to do with it if he needed it. He didn’t know a thing about fighting, wasn’t sure he knew how to throw a punch, let alone stab someone.

He stepped into the bedroom.

“Hello?”

The shadows were deep here. And he noticed a faint musty odor that hadn’t been present before. But it seemed empty…

Then lightning flashed, illuminating two hulking forms pressed against the wall.

With a cry, Doug spun and ran for the front door. A blast of thunder engulfed his cries.

“Help! Hel—!”

He plowed head-on into a third hulk in the hallway and bounced back—like running into a lightly padded concrete wall. Doug almost fell but managed to keep his balance. He turned but lightning silhouetted the two figures approaching from the bedroom.

“I’ve got a knife!” Doug cried, holding it up.

Something slapped hard against his hand and the knife went flying. He opened his mouth to cry for help but thick fingers clapped over his lips, sealing them. Two more hands grabbed his ankles and lifted him off the floor. Despite his struggles, he was completely helpless as they carried him toward the bedroom like a thrashing, unruly child.

Why? his panicked mind screamed as his bladder threatened to empty. Who are they? What are they? And why do they want me? I’ve never hurt anyone. Why should anyone—?

The hack! They couldn’t be from GEM, could they?

They carried him into the bedroom but then stopped—froze was more like it. They pinned him to the floor and held him there. They seemed to be listening. For what?