I had to remind myself to breathe. I was confronting odds so impossible I couldn’t even imagine a version of success. Even if Alex weren’t already lost and even if I could spot her, it would be impossible to sneak into the compound, dodge the Hosts and Drones, free her, and get out.

Thump. Squelch.

The sound made me wince. My cheeks were wet; I hadn’t even realized that my eyes were watering from the sight.

I forced myself to exhale. And then draw another breath.

Thump. Squelch.

The figure, she was impregnating them.

Using the children of Earth as pods to incubate … something. Probably her offspring, which would hatch up out of the kids.

The cannery resembled nothing so much as a beehive.

And the sleek, suited figure was the queen bee.

Or a queen bee.

Remembering all those asteroids raking through the night sky a week ago, I wondered how many scenes just like this one were being played out around the planet right now.

Again I told my mouth to draw air, forced my lungs to inhale.

A scream drew my attention back to the cannery. As Afa dragged the next girl from the cage, she thrashed and fought, a shimmer of blond hair flying up over her face. She twisted free and ran, but only got two steps before colliding with Sheriff Blanton’s chest. He seized her thin wrists, torquing them painfully, guiding her back into Afa’s arms.

Together they strapped her to the assembly belt’s starting point, bending over her, their broad flexed backs blocking her from view.

Thump. Squelch.

As the next victim drifted off across the foundation, the belt lurched forward, bringing the girl into view.

It was Alex.

Entry 36

ENTRY 36

The bulldozer hurtled down the graded hillside toward the cannery, blade raised, motoring through boulders, snapping tree trunks, bouncing violently as it reached even ground. It skipped over the curb, took out a length of chain-link fence, dragging it along, and plowed into the corner of the factory.

Chunks of the walls collapsed around it, rubble raining down.

Though the assembly belt kept lurching along, the Hosts flew from their positions toward the crash site. Others swarmed the grounds, the previously perfect mechanics of the operation turned to chaos. It was as though I’d poked a stick into an anthill.

They dug at the sharp rubble to unearth the bulldozer cab, their hands bloodying with the effort. As they worked, the assembly belt kept on, moving the strapped-down kids along toward the Queen.

Thump. Squelch.

One of the Drones had moved over to her side to help with the straps. The show would go on.

The Hosts closed in on the bulldozer, then climbed on top of it, coyotes hungry for the kill. They pried at the rubble, unearthing the machine. At last the final chunk of concrete tumbled away to reveal the cab.

It was empty.

I wasn’t in it.