The exchange of the vibrating insect messages—like a grim parody of radio waves traversing space—gave the beleaguered people the moment they needed to open their own attack on the insects. From the kitchen, Ben Dorset and Craig Soaras passed the deadly dry-­ice extinguishers into the debris-­filled laboratory. The black horns of the tanks began to spurt carbon dioxide. The ice vapor formed everywhere over the roach brigades in lethal, exterminating streams.

Amos Tarbell was shouting, “The back window! Quick!”

Holding the tanks like flame throwers, the people backed hastily from the ever-­advancing roach battalions. Tarbell yelled again. “Elizabeth! Bonnie! Go on out while we cover you!”

To the sheriff’s amazement, Peter Hubbard was pushing Elizabeth aside to get out first. Amos Tarbell would have bet the man was no coward, but now he was showing his colors! Bastard! What the hell was so precious in the red box? Why didn’t he leave it and get the hell out of the way?

Antipathy for the scientist was swept from the sheriff’s mind when he saw a flying roach go for Hubbard’s neck. The avid insect had already pinched up flesh in its mandibles and slashed a deep wound, sucking blood. Holding on to the red box, Hubbard could not use his hands to defend himself. Tarbell thought of going to his aid, but he had to use his tank to defend his own position; and roaches were threatening all around the others.

Elizabeth heard Hubbard’s gasp of pain. She darted to him, her fingers reaching for the roach. He yelled at her furiously, “Don’t touch it!” She disregarded his warning and yanked at the insect with all her hatred. Sickeningly, its body came off in her hand, while its head remained obscenely fastened on Peter Hubbard’s neck. Shuddering, Elizabeth remembered his telling of ants that acted the same.

The sheriff was ordering her angrily to climb out through the window. She was just in time to turn her tank on a rush of roaches coming at her bare feet from one side. Elizabeth splashed them with a furious jerk of the tank, and bobbed her head in deep satisfaction as the vapor immobilized them. Filth! she cried to herself. Die! Die!

Tarbell saw Hubbard still awkwardly blocking the window. He bellowed furiously, “Let the women out, damn it!” Peter Hubbard heard the accusation of cowardice in the man’s shout.

The sheriff swore in his rage. Something was going on he did not understand, and had no time to consider further. Roaches were closing in on him from all sides. He had to spin like a top, spraying a fast and widening circle to keep the slithering fiends at bay.