“Great.”

“We’ve got some SWAT guys with heavier weapons running security at St. Barnabas. Thousands of people have moved in that direction, but those things are going to hit there within six hours at the rate they’re moving. When they do . . .” John shook his head. “There’s no way the cordon can hold back more than a couple of them, even with the big rifles they’ve got. We need to help the Guard get that deep into the borough, or we’re going to lose a lot more lives.”

“Fine.” Rick nodded. “Let’s go.”

He let out a piercing whistle, getting the attention of the rest of the men with him, and waved them out. They all began to move back from the fighting, continuing to be ignored in large part by the giant spiders.

Downright insulting is what this is.

They were half a block away when his radio chirped in his ear. Rick touched the device, opening the channel. “Miradi.”

“Rick, it’s Lyssa. I have something you’re going to want to see.”

ST. BARNABAS HOSPITAL, BRONX

COMMANDER IAN GRANGER glared out over the streets below him as he lay across the rooftop of the hospital. Thousands of people had flooded the area, most directed to the hospital by other officers when they were found stranded on the roads.

A civilian Bell 2900 chopper was picking people up fifteen at a shot, getting them out of the city, but that was like emptying the ocean with a teaspoon. The whole city was screaming for airlift, and there weren’t enough birds in the world to do the job. So that left at least twenty or thirty thousand people here, right in the open.

When those things make it this far, it’ll be a slaughter.

“Commander?”

“What is it?” Granger didn’t even glance back. He was still sighting in the Hecate he had against known-distance targets. It would make things faster when the fighting started.

“We have an officer on the link, calling in a Code Ninety.”

Granger snorted. “This whole city is a Code Ninety today.”

Code Ninety was used as a terror alert, indicating that a citywide disaster was imminent. It required all available officers to drop anything they were doing and report for orders.

“Yes sir. It’s just, she’s pretty damned insistent.”

“Fine, put her through to my channel,” Granger said.

“Patching over now.”

Granger waited a second before he heard a voice crackle to life on his earbud, a woman’s voice he didn’t recognize.

“Say again, this is Officer Lyssa Myriano, badge number Nine Five Seven Three. I am calling in a Code Ninety. We’re Ferry Point Part and . . .”

“Officer Myriano,” Granger cut in, her dossier lighting up his Augmented Reality HUD, “you’re distracting my men, and you do not have the authority to issue a Code Ninety. I’m sure whatever you’re seeing seems real important to you, but we’re all well aware of the situation and we’re busy dealing with it where we are.”