The Yarkie roaches in the specimen jar were now engineering just such a ladder device. They were at the last inch up the side of the jar, reaching toward the glass cover. Although the lid was tight, the roaches atop the living ladder were beginning to loosen it little by little. Whatever their drive, the comparative effort among men would have been superhuman. The insects worked silently, as if fearing that any noise would attract attention from their huge white Enemies across the room.

Then it somehow became clear to the roaches that a single ladder could only tilt the lid, making it stick harder on the opposite side. Promptly, a second ladder was started at the other end. Finally, together, the leading cockroaches—ones with the strongest heads, apparently—lifted in concert.

And the lid moved up, evenly.

It moved only a fraction of an inch each time, but with primordial patience the monster insects continued the task—until their combined strength and cunning actually raised the glass cover sufficiently.

But their intelligence, if such it was, did not foresee that their success would bring a shattering noise.

Hubbard and Lindstrom took in the threat in a moment. A great cockroach with a five-­inch wing expanse was already flying at the man’s eyes. Hubbard ducked in the nick of time, and Wanda Lindstrom batted the roach to the floor where she ground it savagely under her heel.

Other roaches were crawling up the living ladders and scrambling out of captivity. Not all were the flying type. They sat on the open shelf sifting the air for the scent of the Enemy. Hubbard shouted to the horrified woman to escape out of the room. He himself rushed for another lid.

A flying roach landed squarely on Peter Hubbard’s nose. Without thinking, he smashed his face hard with his open palm. It killed the roach, but squirted its smashed innards over his cheeks, sending a stinging chemical into his eyes. He stood stunned, temporarily blinded, unable to defend himself against the roach threats now coming more fiercely from the opened glass container.

Wanda Lindstrom saw there were only moments to act before the full scores of roaches sallied out of the jar and set upon them both. She shoved Hubbard out of her way to rush to a steaming kettle nearby, and dashed back with it to the shelf, pouring the boiling chemical on the roaches crawling and hopping about. Watching them shrivel, she did not notice when two huge roaches, as if teamed, winged up and struck at her eyes. The woman shrieked with the abrupt pain and, in the shock of the assault, dropped the utensil. Scalding liquid skinned her feet in an instant.