Russell Homer froze as if hit with a hammer, but Amos Tarbell understood immediately that his deputy had swung the police car’s powerful spotlight down the forest path. He saw the roaches on Homer’s cheeks let go and fall away to the ground. The nipping stopped on his own cheek. He wanted to stay and grind the miserable insects into the earth, but he stumbled on toward the light. Thank God they needed that great light to power through the mists and fogs that often covered Yarkie.

Tarbell pushed Homer, staggering, onto the road, and dared to look back for a moment. Yes! and praise Almighty God, the roaches were in disarray. The spotlight was anathema to them. He had wondered right from the start why even the first roaches had come out during the day, but the trap had been in a dim area. And these cockroaches were obviously all too different from what people expected, in all too many terrible ways. Thank God the searchlight had stopped them. He could see the column breaking up faster and faster, with roaches skittering crazily down into the leaves, seeking darkness now.

They might regroup and attack again, but the men had their chance to escape.

Ben Dorset had placed the aluminum box on the back seat, and the three men rode in front as the police car accelerated to over sixty in split seconds. Russell Homer hardly had time to close the door and was nearly thrown out as Dorset went screeching around a curve. Fortunately, Amos Tarbell had solid hold of his young friend. At the wheel, Dorset hit the siren in a crescendo of warning to anyone who might be ahead.

The sheriff could not help turning to see whether the roach army had reformed. Dorset was speeding too fast for a good look, but the road behind seemed empty.

The man’s eyes lowered from the rear window to the picnic case bouncing and sliding on the rear seat as the car swerved left and right with the speedometer climbing to eighty, ninety, one hundred. They hit a bump and the box flew off the seat and bounced on the floor. Horrified that the lock might spring, the sheriff reached back to press the lid down. He uttered another silent prayer of thanks when he saw that the cover had held. It seemed to him he could see right through the metal to the evil antennae inside, reaching, reaching, reaching for them all. He shuddered with the feel of the livid mandibles clamping on his cheek and the sting of the insect teeth biting for his blood. He knew too well now what was happening on Yarkie. And knowing it, he still could not bring himself to believe that it was roaches—just cockroaches!—no matter how vicious and huge a breed—that could be so infernally powerful.