Its shape was so alien, so baffling, so unfathomable, that for a split second I could do nothing but gawk and try to comprehend. It reminded me of pulling weeds and looking at the hairy roots beneath, partially obscured in wet dirt, only these millions of roots and tufts were wiggling. It filled the entire shaft and was gradually descending, now only two floors above. In the middle of the mass was a single, awful, circular mouth, filled with row after row of blunt white teeth, stretching up inside like a tunnel until it disappeared into the thing’s interior.

I slammed my body against the kukri. The door opened a few inches. I tossed my knife through, got my hands on both sides and shoved as hard as I possibly could. The doors slid open and I clambered through. It was dark here too. Rolling across the floor, I crashed into a set of legs. Thankfully, they were attached to a living human being. “It’s coming!” I shouted.

A flashlight beam stabbed me in the eyes. “Z?” Milo Anderson asked. “What’s coming?”

“Damn if I know,” I gasped. Milo set his AR-10 against the wall and used his free hand to help me up. As my light came around, it illuminated a plastic bottle in Milo’s hand. It was filled with gray powder. I pointed. “Explosive?”

“Yeah. Cooper made Tannerite. Why—”

I snatched it from him. Tannerite is the common name for a simple explosive made from a mixture of ammonium nitrate and aluminum powder. For the ammonium nitrate he’d probably stolen fertilizer from the grounds crew. The aluminum powder, I had no idea. But it would go boom, and a one-liter soda bottle was a decent sized boom, and best of all, it could be set off with the energy of a high-velocity rifle round. Abomination’s buckshot was too slow, but a .308 would do nicely. I picked up Milo’s rifle and thumbed on the flashlight. “Gonna borrow this.

I stuck the muzzle of his rifle into the shaft, risked a peek, and saw the dangling wet root monster still gradually oozing its way down. Milo stuck his head around the corner and exclaimed, “Grinder!”

“Friend of yours?”

“No.” Milo reached out, took the bottle back, and hurled it at the monster. The explosive struck the roots, but before gravity could bounce it back, half a dozen of the tendrils lashed out with blinding speed and encircled the bottle. It automatically slithered the bottle toward its mouth hole. The rows of teeth inside began to rotate hungrily against each other. The sound was like nails on chalkboard on triple speed. Milo pulled back and stuck his fingers in his ears. “Blast it!”