The roach commanders led the advancing fighter horde confidently through the forest as the signal odor grew stronger and more intense, a funnel of pheromones narrowing toward the lighthouse. The slithering roach formations looked like great snakes sliding through the ashes of the forest fire. These were sinister reptiles with endless bodies, reaching out of the Medusa’s head of the Dome in the Nest.

Nearing the edge of the trees and the open space of the lighthouse beach, the phalanx was halted. Scouts were dispatched. They hurried away, keeping to the clumps of dune grass that were almost phosphorescently gray-­green in the now-­fading moonlight. The vulnerability of the open space must be risked. The messages coming from the Great White Tree ahead of them were more urgent than ever. Their swiftness was on their side. If the Enemy spotted them, they would still be strong in combat, for they would strike at the huge Tree from every arc.

The scouts raced back to the main body. They tattooed a new message: The easiest prey was not on the level from which the roach signals were coming, but from a space above. Easy to reach, easy climbing. And no signs of counter­attack, no Enemy lurking. Quietness everywhere, little sounds only, unfrightening, no threatening vibrations.

As the roach troops moved out of the shadows of the trees, the beach seemed to quiver and come alive. It was as if the grains of sand took on life and motion, rolling toward the lighthouse and starting to climb the white exterior. The climbing insects were like a rising brown wash on the walls.

Up and under the loose shingles of the lighthouse, roaches crawled easily, easily found the broken window of the room where Wanda Lindstrom’s body lay. Inside, the insects jostled each other in their haste to enjoy this new human repast. Their shells clicked against each other as they quarreled for position at the feast. The cockroaches were hungry now. In changing nests, it had been necessary to leave much food behind, and the transferred supplies had gone first to the Dome and the palace guards, with the females next. These fighters and workers had been waiting their turn. In their greed now, they began to exchange loud droning hisses warning each other off as they snatched at the corpse’s flesh before them.

The noises of the scuttling, clicking, and puffing came down the open staircase to the room where Elizabeth Carr and Bonnie Taylor were sleeping. It was Elizabeth in her restiveness who heard it first. She nudged Bonnie with a terrified whisper, “Something is upstairs!” Half-­asleep, she almost imagined Wanda Lindstrom’s ghost coming down the steps.

But the women both knew at once what the “something” was. Bonnie came bolt upright. The hissing noise pierced her ears like a branding iron. She would never forget the terrible sound that had drawn Sharky to his death. “My God, the roaches are here!”