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Back The Nest Save as PDF
Chapters (82)
  1. Cover
  2. Copyright page
  3. Introduction by Will Errickson
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. TREMORS
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. SUSPICIONS
  13. 1
  14. 2
  15. 3
  16. 4
  17. 5
  18. DREAD
  19. 1
  20. 2
  21. 3
  22. 4
  23. 5
  24. 6
  25. WITNESS
  26. 1
  27. 2
  28. 3
  29. ALERT
  30. 1
  31. 2
  32. 3
  33. 4
  34. 5
  35. ENCOUNTER
  36. 1
  37. 2
  38. 3
  39. 4
  40. 5
  41. 6
  42. HAVOC
  43. 1
  44. 2
  45. 3
  46. 4
  47. 5
  48. 6
  49. SEARCH
  50. 1
  51. 2
  52. 3
  53. 4
  54. 5
  55. CLASH
  56. 1
  57. 2
  58. 3
  59. 4
  60. 5
  61. 6
  62. 7
  63. COUNTERATTACK
  64. 1
  65. 2
  66. 3
  67. 4
  68. 5
  69. 6
  70. 7
  71. VICTORY
  72. 1
  73. 2
  74. 3
  75. 4
  76. 5
  77. 6
  78. 7
  79. 8
  80. 9
  81. EPILOGUE
  82. About the Author

“Oh, Harvey!” But her protest held half a submissive laugh. What the devil, the woman thought, it might be fun at that. It hadn’t been fun for so long! She’d be darned if her husband’s hot fingers spreading her thighs weren’t turning her on. She could feel the unfamiliar wetness, and it made her squirm in anticipation. He was panting with whiskey and lust. She began to moan with her own images of pleasure. Let him. Let him, let him, let him do it!

But in their mutual heat, neither of the Tintons heard the rustling and hissing coming rapidly closer. Under the magnificent juniper red cedar where Harvey Tinton had hid, husband and wife grasped each other in the starry night in the pine-­scented island paradise, moaning with their play and pleasure, until Blanche Tinton commanded sharply, “Harvey, stop doing that!”

Her husband’s voice was innocent, totally without guile. “Doing what?”

“You know I don’t like you touching me there!”

His voice, bewildered: “Touching you where?”

Hers, reprimanding: “That place!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“You stop it this instant!”

“But I’m not doing anything!”

“Harvey Tinton, you take your finger away from there right now!”

The man sat up, grievously wounded. Drunkenly he lifted both hands in the air and waved his fingers before his wife’s eyes.

Blanche Tinton shrieked in horror. “My God, what is it then?”

The man scrambled to his feet, pants open, his sex shrinking, furious at the interruption that was stealing his pleasure. “What the holy hell is with you? Are you drunk?”

The woman began to roll on the earth, scissoring her thighs. She seemed to be in the throes of sexual climaxing, but her screams were of shock and anguish. “Ouch! Harvey, what’s at me?”

The man peered at his wife’s tortured face doubtfully, not comprehending. For a moment he thought it was her game, her way of punishing him for drinking too much this night. But a moment later his eyes were blinking at the impossible sight of a million huge cockroaches spreading over her body. Up from between her now bleeding thighs, roaches were blanketing her entire undressed flesh. They made a cloak of crawling death, a cloak sequined loathsomely with their roach carapaces and folded wings that glinted evilly in the shafts of moonlight on the struggling, bleeding woman.