In seconds, the woman was going to burn. Sick herself, almost so afraid that she could not do it, Kelly forced herself to go forward. One of the insects tried to leap at her, but its broken wings made it go awry and she stomped it, crushing it to a mass of red blood and meat, and gleaming shards of metal. What in hell was it, a mixture of a living form and a machine, or was it wearing armor?

Would the others notice and come back, or those running creatures—would they appear again?

“Lady,” she said, “lady.”

“Get the door open, it’s gonna go up!”

Kelly pulled at it, but it wouldn’t give, so she yanked shards of the plastic window out and threw them aside, but as she did so, a long tongue of orange flame, precise and tapered, appeared above the shattered engine compartment.

“Oh, no,” the woman groaned, “oh my God…”

Kelly grabbed her shoulder and yanked and the woman screamed, but she came partly through the window.

The entire engine compartment burst into flames, and at the same time the sound of drumming rose from the highway, and the cries of the people became even more terrible. Leaping from roof to roof of the stopped cars were lithe figures, preternaturally quick, and she could see them waving long wands down among the cars.

She pulled the woman again, drawing her head out the window. Now she was like a bust sticking out, her arms pinned beside her. The flames ate toward her, and she shook frantically, throwing her head back and forth, trying to force her body out.

Kelly scrambled up on the side of the fuselage between the woman and the flames and took her under her arms and lifted with all her strength. The woman flopped like a fish and then came out, first one arm and then the other, then she clambered up and out, and the two of them fell off the burning ruin and rolled away.

From here, Kelly could see, directly through the shattered windshield, the pilot still in his helmet, his face was a red, grinning skull.

The woman grabbed Kelly’s arm. “Too late for him,” she said.

She was beautiful, this woman, with penetrating eyes and flowing hair and an expensive, torn suit that looked like a designer original or something. Rich woman in a helicopter, maybe going to her beach house, whatever.

“That thing work?” she asked, striding over to the Vespa.

Kelly got on it. With two people, it was a lot slower, but she wasn’t about to leave this woman behind. She motioned the woman to mount behind her.

“You know where Willoughby is?” the woman asked.

“Yeah, its down from Boulder Creek. I know the area, I bike out in there.”

“Let’s go.”

“You got a place there? We can hole up?”

“Just go! NOW!”

As Kelly fired up the scooter, her cell phone rang.

“Hello?”