“He’s hideous, I knew it!”

She threw him aside with casual force. He was slung into the air—and Richardson caught him like some kind of stevedore catching a sack of potatoes.

Nobody was strong enough to do that.

The creature put the case on the ground. An angry buzzing sound come from inside.

“What’s that?”

She fumbled with the clasp.

The container was so flawlessly constructed that it might as well have been a jewel box. But it was large, three by four feet and two feet deep, at least.

She addressed George. “Open it.”

The clasp was simple enough—assuming you could see the way the tongue slid out, then had to be turned.

He lifted the lid—and saw something almost too strange to comprehend. It was metallic, dark blue-black, and gleaming. For all the world, it appeared to be the back of a huge beetle that had been tucked down into the case.

“What in the world…”

The girl slapped the thing. “Get moving!”

With a shriek like a saw screaming into wood, the thing leaped out at him—and on him. As it twisted in the air, he glimpsed human eyes, then found his head being crushed in a prison of legs. As his mouth opened in a reflexive cry of shock and disbelief, a rubbery protuberance was thrust down his throat so hard that it went right past his gnashing teeth and deep into his stomach.

“That’s cool,” Linda Hicks shouted. “It’s wonderful!”

“They’re new. Just designed,” the hybrid said.

George knew how important that information was, but he couldn’t think about it now. He pushed against the gigantic, insectlike being on him, trying to dislodge it.

Then Richardson asked, “Is it working?”

The hybrid snarled, “How should I know?”

“Because there are planes up there. Delta Force has arrived.”

George’s stomach seemed almost to tear itself in half, then what felt like fire came up, exiting in a spray of froth out the corners of his distended mouth, then filling his head and spraying like lava out of both his nostrils.

Fire was in him, all right, savage heat, and his back arched and then the material spraying from his nose became steam and the air filled with a smell of cooking meat.

“Yep, it’s working!” the hybrid said. “It’s really fast.”

George became a dot of failing consciousness in the center of his pain. His last thought was of the Glock and getting his finger properly seated to release the trigger safety. He did not die afraid because he had no understanding of what was happening to him, and thus no idea that he was dying.

The body flopped once, then fell. Hissing came from inside. The girl bent down and felt the body lightly with her hands.

“Come off,” she snapped, and the huge insect withdrew its proboscis with a guttural rumble.

It raised its eyes to the hybrid, who muttered, “Back.”