For an instant he glimpsed the side of the Blazer. Then it was gone, a blur behind him. He pulled them off in fistfuls, dragged them out of his throat.
He realized that he was being moved toward the hole. Because he was neither confused nor surprised by their appearance, his response was very different from Bob's.
Instead of freezing as Bob had, he went wild. Lunging, plunging, battling with animal fury, he ripped them away from his face, took in deep breaths of fresh air. He was thrashing, leaping—half here and half back in the fire, fighting for his family, for Loi, for his baby.
He felt something hard in his grip—the door post. He pulled it, dragged himself ever closer. Then he was inside the vehicle. Yanking the door closed, he trapped at least a hundred of the insects inside with him.
They changed instantly. Instead of remaining aggressive, they lined up with military precision against the top edges of the window frames. They were all turned toward him, their red eyes glaring. It was like being face-to-face with the biggest, meanest-looking hornets in the world.
Evidence, certainly. But too much of it. They were revving their wings. They were going to attack. He cracked his window, hoping a few would escape and he could contend with the others.
With blinding efficiency and speed they flowed out, every last one of them. "No! Oh, shit!"
An instant later it was night again. Brian waited, his breath catching in his throat. "Bob," he whispered.
There was no answer.
He managed to say it a little louder. Still nothing.
He realized that he could see the road stretching ahead, looking perfectly normal. No hole, not a trace. "Bob, I think we're OK." Then there came a truer sign, the chirping of a cricket.
Soon he heard the whine of an approaching car. He peered ahead. Headlights glared, then he glimpsed the slick red curves of a Dodge Viper.
In the headlights he thought he saw Bob running. The car shot past, its engine howling. He had only a glimpse of the occupants, who were sitting as stiff as dolls.
The bastards had come back! They'd been ticketed and they'd come back for revenge!
He jumped out of the Blazer, dashed off into the woods in the direction Bob had gone, calling him at the top of his voice.
Silence answered. Darkness enclosed him.
Around him the woods rustled and sighed. The memory of those red insect eyes still bored into him, the huge, wet opening gaped in memory.
He went back to the truck, stationed himself beside it with the door opened, and from there he called Bob again and again, his voice echoing flatly. He called until he was so hoarse he couldn't do it anymore.
All remained silent.
Brian threw open the Blazer's rear deck, got out Bob's large flashlight. "Where the hell axe you?" he rasped.
The wind sighed as Brian walked around the vehicle. There were no footprints in the soft shoulder, not a single indication that anybody had ever been here but him. Also, the road was devoid of markings, despite the fact that a large opening had been there just a few minutes before.
He actually found himself hoping that Bob had been hit by the Viper. It was better than the other thing, the impossible thing. "Bob!" He played the light along the shoulder, back into the grass, trotted across the highway and searched the other side. "Bob!"
Alone with the night, Brian slumped against the truck. He considered—stay here or start walking?
No question: stay here with the windows closed and the doors locked.
Down in the valley he saw headlights. When the oncoming car was perhaps a thousand feet away, he went out into the road and started waving his arms. The car, an aging Buick, stopped. "Yes, Officer?" Because of the livery on the truck, the driver was assuming that Brian was a trooper.
He didn't bother to correct him. "This truck's broken down.
Could you stop in Ludlum and call the state police barracks for me?"
"Well, I'd be pleased to do that."
"Get them out here right away. Tell them it's Lieutenant West's vehicle, and he's down."
"Down?" The man looked around.
"I think he's been hit by a car. I can't find him."
"Jesus, I'll do my best!" The driver accelerated away.
When the sound of his engine died, Brian was sure he heard the Viper again, now off in the dark somewhere, idling. He got in the Blazer and locked it up.
Ten minutes passed. Fifteen. What the hell was he going to tell them? Had he really seen Bob running in the lights of the Viper, or... how did he even talk about the other thing? They'd think that Brian Kelly had gone completely around the bend this time.
Quite suddenly the Blazer was awash in flickering light. A patrol car was coming up fast from behind. Finally!
As Brian got out, he found that a dark vehicle had somehow overtaken the patrol car. The Viper roared past three inches from his body, a red needle blurred by extreme speed. Brian was thrown against the door. Hot wind washed over him as the car disappeared into the dark.
The report of an officer down meant that the trooper car stopped instead of giving chase. "Jesus Christ," one of the officers said as he trotted up, "that guy's doin' more'n a C."
Brian swallowed, forced his throat to construct the words. "It's a sports car, a Dodge Viper. It's been after us because Bob turned it in to a radar unit this morning. I think it might've hit him. I can't find him!"
"Where'd you last see him?" one of the troopers asked. Brian noticed that both of them had their guns drawn.
"Over there," Brian replied, pointing weakly toward the shoulder.
They shone their lights around. "Why'd you stop?"
"Electrical problem."
"So he got out? What then?"
He could not lie. He did not know how to tell the truth. "Well, we saw some lights."
"Car lights?"
"I'm not real certain what we saw. We were observing what I think is a new species of insect."
"Insect? You stopped to look at a bug?"
"A lot of them. Very unusual. We got out of the truck, and then it all happened very quickly."
The theory became that Bob had been grazed by the fast-moving car, had become disoriented and wandered away. The troopers made a search, but could not find a sign of him. A helicopter was called in and it spent half an hour shining its searchlight from above, also with no result.
After another hour a mystified group of rescuers gave up, planning to continue at first light.
Bob's commanding officer drove off to perform the miserable task of informing Bob's wife and two boys that he was missing. Brian would have gone, but how did he explain things to Nancy? Her husband had disappeared. He couldn't show up with a story as crazy as the one he wanted to tell.
He wanted to compare notes with Ellen, but he didn't dare go near her. Instead he asked the troopers to take him home. He rode in silence, sitting in the cage of one of the patrol units. As the dark forest passed outside his window, his mind turned the day's events over and over again.
He felt the same disorientation that would have followed if he'd sighted a flying saucer or seen the Loch Ness Monster.
A new species of insect? Hell, it was a new genus, a new type of life altogether. He was very much afraid that it was a man-eater, too. But not Bob. Please, not him.
No, he'd seen him in the lights of the Viper, surely he had. The poor guy was probably unconscious, that's why he hadn't answered.
He had to think this through carefully, theorize and try to understand.
Women hidden underground like grubs—actually, that fit. It was very insectoid to encase caches of prey for further use. Typical behavior of colony-living insects.
Oh, Bob, where are you, my friend? When he'd been in the hospital, unable even to mumble, Bob had come every evening and sat there holding his hand and talking baseball.
He needed lots of help if he was going to save his friend. He needed entomology, but also biology, physics—maybe even the damned Air Force.
He
felt a moment of relief when they pulled onto Kelly Farm Road. But then he worried. What would he do if the trailer was dark, the truck gone?
He saw a glimmer in the woods, then another. The trailer—it was lit, she was still with him.
But she didn't come out onto the porch when the car pulled up. The troopers said their grim farewells and drove off into the night.
When their car was gone the night enclosed the little place, the mobile home with its few dim lights, the ruins beyond. The yellow bug light over the kitchen door was surrounded by a cloud of moths, and at the edge of its glow bats squeaked and darted. A great white barn owl flew through the edge of the light, a pale shadow. A moment later it muttered softly off in the dark.
Normally, he would have felt a sense of peace, hearing the bats and the owl, and smelling the rich scent of apple blossom and corn tassel. But not now.
He went inside.
At first he had the horrible thought that she'd gone and left the lights on; he actually looked for a note.
But she was in the bedroom, apparently asleep.
As quietly as he could, he undressed and got ready for bed. She might or might not actually be awake. In any case, she did not stir.
Normally a big dinner would have been waiting, beside it a cold Bud or a glass of wine.
He slipped into bed beside her.
Her breathing was regular, even. "You asleep?"
No reply.
Outside, the owl muttered and coughed. The past hours were like a nightmare, a sort of tumor in the middle of memory. When he closed his eyes, he saw the insects, heard the sound of the destroyed woman being drawn out of the ground.
Vaguely he recalled that there were known species of insect that encapsulated their prey in the ground, injecting them with a drug that paralyzed but did not kill, so that they would be fresh when the larvae hatched.
The woman in the Traps had been like that, helpless but still retaining enough consciousness to suffer and to scream.
Was that happening to Bob right now? Was he three feet underground somewhere out in the woods, screaming bloody murder?
His hand slipped beneath the sheets, sought Loi's. She let him hold it, but there was no response whatsoever.
They were man-eaters, these insects. He had to get a specimen, that was now absolutely essential.
He slept, and in his sleep saw red eyes, and heard Bob crying out again and again, from the depths of the earth.
He dreamed they were all together in a tiny, stifling cave, him and Bob and Ellen and dear Loi and all the rest, the people of Oscola and Towayda and Ludlum and all the land around, and there was an earthquake and the way to the surface was blocked. They were trapped here forever and something was coming, coming up from the depths, coming fast.
And he was right.
Eight
1.
Loi was awakened by the thuttering of a helicopter, a sound that always brought her instantly to full consciousness. Once she would have cried out, fearing the lazy track of tracer, the hiss of a phosphorus bullet burning out somebody's stomach. But since she had been with Brian, she had stopped allowing herself the luxury of nightmares. His were enough for them both. "Brian," she asked carefully, "did you call a duster?"
"No way, not this time of year." The sound had awakened him also, brought him suddenly to sickening recollection of all that was happening.
There was just enough thin light for the air search to start again.
It was time to tell Loi everything and damn the consequences. He didn't know how, but he would have to try. "Bob's truck broke down and there was some kind of bizarre accident. He disappeared."
"What is this?"
"We were outside the truck investigating an unusual incident. A car came past very fast. The next thing I knew, he was gone. They haven't found him yet." He gestured toward the window. "That's what the choppers are about."
"He was hit?"
"I couldn't find him, Loi! I called him and called him but he didn't answer!"
Her eyes widened, her hands went up to her cheeks in an oddly antique gesture of horror. "Nancy and the kids!"
"The troopers are taking care of them."
"They need their friends! You have left them all night without friends!" She went to the phone, dialed the Wests.
The line was busy. She dialed again, then slammed down the phone. "We go." They dressed fast. She wouldn't even let him shave. While he was still combing his hair, she marched out to the truck.
Brian didn't even consider the idea of arguing. She was right anyway. They should have been with Nancy and the boys from the beginning, that was obvious. The shock of what had happened had numbed him, shut down his mind.
Well, he had better get it powered up again. People needed him.
They went down Kelly Farm Road and turned onto Mound. It took ten minutes to get to Queen's Road and the little four-house development where the Wests lived. In that time he had decided that he was going to have to attempt to explain the insects to her.
"Loi, there's more." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her nodding. He continued. "There have been a series of what I would characterize as unusual and dangerous incidents involving a number of people. I think they're related, but I don't know how."
"Brian, what is this you are trying to say?"
"There are apparent insects. I don't know how to say this. Something that comes out of the ground, that glows like a mass of coals—"
"You saw a demon."
If he didn't say exactly the right thing, this conversation was going to go off the deep end in about three seconds. He really didn't think that Southeast Asian animism had any part to play in it. "This is about something else. It all started with the screaming in the mound. On that night, Ellen Maas also had a very strange experience."
"What is her part?"
"She went out on the mound and saw a thing there. It defies description, really. A spectacular apparition, like a burning snake made of vicious insects."
"So that's it, a demon brought you together. I should have known! We must put a stop to this at once."
"Whatever. The thing is, Bob and I confronted something similar in the road. Strikingly similar. The same sort of glowing things menaced us. It could have been that they—well, that something dreadful has happened."
She sighed. "If demons took him he is gone, finished. There is no help for him. Now there is something more urgent than waiting with Nancy. She will have her grief a long time."
"Loi, this is all very unknown. Very confusing."
"They confuse you so you will not fight so much. But they will come back." She touched the edge of an eye. "Why Bob? Ellen has sinned, she tried to steal somebody's husband. You're OK, you've confessed and faced your wrongdoing. But Bob... it's very strange. Maybe they made a mistake. Maybe they'll return him to us after all."
She's lost in her demons, Brian thought miserably. "This is a physical phenomenon."
"We must try to save her, Brian. She is hateful, but nobody deserves such a fate. We go first to Ellen Maas."
Brian was so stunned that he almost killed the engine. "Loi, why?"
"To warn her! She must get out of Oscola at once. She must admit her sin and cleanse her soul. Otherwise—" She made a chopping motion.
So that was it. She was going to try to scare Ellen away with tales of demons, thus neatly removing the threat of her imagined rival. He did not want to pity his wife, but it was a pitiful stratagem. "There are no demons, there's only nature."
"Demons are part of nature. Turn around, please."
There was that sound in her voice again, that new determination. He obeyed her.
Ellen's cabin was back in the woods a few hundred yards behind them. Despite the hour, he found that it was blazing with light. He wasn't surprised.
Ellen pulled the door open before they got there; obviously she'd been watching since the moment the truck arrived.
"I'm sorry," Brian said.
She laughed,
a brittle trill. "How about some Café Français? I've just been making some." She could not conceal the shock in her voice.
"We need nothing, thank you." Loi moved into the small cabin, looked around. "This is nice."
"Thank you," Ellen said. Her voice was wary.
Brian met the confusion in Ellen's eyes.
"Bob West disappeared," he said.
Ellen looked up at him, blinking.
"A demon has come. It has come and it is collecting souls. You must leave, Ellen. Your soul is in danger."
"Excuse me?"
"If you don't pack your bags and leave, it'll carry you off to hell while you're still alive. This is a very unfortunate fate, Ellen. It is reserved only for the worst of sinners. Such as women who have seduced the husbands of others."
"I didn't do anything of the sort! Your husband was helping me investigate the very things that have apparently caused this tragedy."
"We went up to Towayda yesterday, Ellen. There was a woman encapsulated in the ground. It was horrible."
"Oh, Jesus. So there was somebody in the mound, too."
"I'm afraid there was."
"If there is no sin, then why has the demon come?"
"There is no demon," Brian said patiently. "The only thing wrong here is that something horrible's happened to Bob."
"We don't talk about what happened to him. Bad luck." Then she went to the window, looked out into the brightening morning. "There is much sin here. Secret sin. Demons can smell it from a long way off." Her hands were on the two sides of her belly, protecting her pregnancy. Another helicopter came drumming along, its sound growing to a roar, then slowly diminishing.
When the helicopter was gone, Brian spoke again—very carefully. "They're looking for him, Loi. If anybody believed he'd been taken to hell, they certainly wouldn't be doing that."
Ellen wasn't interested in Loi's demons, either. "What happened out there, Brian?"
He told her the story. By the time he was done, they were beginning to hear sirens. They rose in the distance, fell, rose again, became rapidly louder.
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