The round lump passed through the length of the creature’s translucent blue body before stopping in its tail, where it seemed to dissolve. What came next was enough to make Overton’s veteran stomach lurch—a belch, and then a violent vibration through the creature’s body as it shot a ray of mist into the sky before finally coughing up the remains of the orb’s former occupant. From his vantage point Overton could hardly make out the contents, especially in the dark, but the faint blue glow from the creature’s body was just enough to illuminate a sack of human skin.

“What the hell is that?” a voice asked over the com.

Overton finally pulled away from the view and turned to see his own reflection in Finley’s mirrored visor. For the first time in days, he saw how aged his face had become. Deep wrinkles stretched across his forehead, snaking beneath his receding hairline. His eyes appeared dull and lackluster.

“Sir, what is that . . . thing?” Finley repeated.

Overton pulled himself away from his reflection and turned back to the grotesque alien below. He ignored Finley’s question, and failed to discipline him for breaking radio silence, which was now a moot point.

Below, the creature was digesting another one of the orbs, slithering its way across the parking lot.

“Dr. Winston, get up here,” he growled over the com. “You ever seen anything like that?” he asked, pointing with the charcoal barrel of his pulse rifle.

Sophie gasped, blinking several times to ensure her brain was, in fact, comprehending what her eyes were seeing. “It appears to have the same surface composition as the drones.” She crawled farther under the belly of the truck, straining her neck to get a better view. “Looks like it’s feeding.”

Another short burst of static broke over the com. “All clear at the rear, request permission to advance,” Bouma said.

Overton slipped his helmet back over his shaved head. “Negative, stay put. We may need to leave in a hurry.”

“Do you think that’s them, Dr. Winston?” Finley asked.

Sophie continued to stare, her lips agape, before finally managing a nod.

“I’m not risking a trip on the highway past that thing,” Overton whispered. “We need to find an alternate route. Something more discreet.”

“For all we know, those things could be everywhere,” Finley replied.

Overton crouched and pulled out a tiny black tablet from his side pack. “All the more reason to avoid them by finding a different route,” he said staring at the blue screen. The GPS device fed into his HUD through a wireless link, but whatever had caused the massive communication failure had also effectively killed the wireless connection.

He cursed and put the device away, pulling out a small map of the area from his pouch with the coordinates highlighted in red ink. “Looks like we have to do this the old-fashioned way.”

“But—” Finley began to protest.