The men regarded the crawling creatures with new loathing and virulence. These were no longer just insects, monstrous as might be. They were The Enemy now—barbaric, vicious, and abominable predators. Their horde was to be searched out, discovered, and destroyed to the last diabolical miscreation, no matter what the danger or risk. Otherwise Yarkie would be surrendered to this incredible malevolence.

Elizabeth and Bonnie had not been told of Dickens Beach. Instead, Elias Johnson had a tragic enough story—the loss of the Tub with all aboard. It was this appalling report to which the women attributed the new unstrung mood they felt in the Yarkie men and the Harvard couple. Although they had all been grim enough before, there had been some interplay—an occasional smile, a personal exchange. Now the men sat as if nailed to their chairs. Every face was tight and feverish. Eyes were shielded, evasive. Heads were bent, with gazes downcast to the floor. Elizabeth supposed it was the agony of the wreck and the battling of the forest fire that left the men so dramatically different from their usual steadiness.

But she had a suspicion that something else might have occurred, especially when her grandfather suggested that she and Bonnie leave the group to prepare supper. Elizabeth’s watch said four in the afternoon, far too early. She was about to ask what he was concealing when she saw the sternness in his eyes. She led Bonnie out at once. She would ask Peter later.

With Wanda Lindstrom standing pale at his side, Peter Hubbard asked Johnson, “None of the firemen reported any roaches?”

“That’s right.”

The scientist rubbed his cheek with the now familiar gesture. “Well, the forest fire obviously got the roaches that killed the children, and the rest of the colony are probably hiding in their nest. The fire would have triggered their alarm chemical over the whole area, and it will take time to dissipate.”

Johnson said, “You say they’re hiding in their nest. Now you are sure we’re talking about ‘a colony’?”

The woman answered him. “Everything points that way. After that terrible beach disaster, I have to say we are not dealing with individual insects. I believe these roaches have definitely mutated in the direction of the ants and termites Dr. Hubbard and I have tried to tell you about. They seem definitely organized, and definitely communicating as an integrated group . . .”

Hubbard said carefully, “We certainly have to proceed on the basis that there is some center of control.” He indicated the roaches in the jars. “Look here. You can see for yourself a revealing pattern of uncommon behavior.”

The men turned baleful eyes on the insects.