Sasha walked down the ramp. She glanced behind her with every other step. "It's not going away," she said as she twisted off the end of the tape. She pushed it down onto the charge.

Jamie looked at her as they stepped across to the other side of the rings. "What?"

"The desert. Wasteland. Whatever you want to call it."

Mike studied her face. "You've seen it before?"

"This morning." She thrust her chin at the rings. "When we tried to take it apart."

"You didn't say anything about that."

"That's where I saw the bugman first. I thought I might've been seeing things. It was just for a second. And then it attacked us."

The duct tape let out a long raspberry as Weaver and Dylan wrapped the next charge in place between the rings.

Captain Black looked from Sasha to Mike. "Bugman?"

"I told you," said Mike, "they wear masks."

"That's not exactly ringing true anymore," the captain said. He used his chin to gesture at the wasteland. "Exactly what the h.e.l.l is going on here?"

"Like Staff Sergeant Duncan said, it's a gateway. A fold in s.p.a.ce."

"A gateway to where?" Black peered through the rings, and then he looked back at Mike and the others. "Is that Afghanistan? We're a few steps from Afghanistan?"

The tape roll hissed and turned to paper. Dylan growled and tossed the empty roll aside. Weaver dug in her pack for another roll.

And paused.

"What the h.e.l.l is that?"

They all followed her eye line through the Door.

Miles away, something had appeared on the far side of the canyon. Several somethings. A cloud of dust went up behind them. They were short and lopsided, and this far out they made Mike think of men riding giant crabs. The limbs on the ground rose and came down, propelling the things forward.

They were moving fast.

FIFTY.

Mike took three quick strides up the ramp with Black right next to him. Jamie, Olaf, and Sasha weren't far behind. They stood next to the two demolitions experts, still crouched to place their next charge but lost in the impossible view.

"Is that another one of those things?" Jamie asked. She tilted her head and tried to focus across the impossible distance.

The ants brought out pictures of the bugman they'd fought. Mike examined still images of it bent over on all fours, studied the way its spine had bent, watched it move forward on four limbs like some insectile centaur. The small shapes in the distance had the same profile. Their limbs moved the same way. He counted seven of them holding spears over their heads, but the dust cloud could be hiding more.

"I think it's a lot of them," said Mike. "At least fourteen, by my count. There could be more hidden in the dust cloud."

"Duncan," said Black. "Get a team out back and set up a line."

"Yes, sir."

"They're not out back," Olaf said. "They're right there."

"I can see them," Black snapped.

"You're seeing them but you don't get it," said Mike. "You're not looking out behind the building, captain. You're looking through a fold. They're coming through this." He gestured at the heat-haze field that stretched across the room.

"What the h.e.l.l is this thing?"

"It's dangerous," Mike said, "and we need to destroy it before more of those things find their side of it."

Black made his decision in seconds. "Secure this room," he called out. "Dylan, Weaver, I want this done five minutes ago."

"Yes, sir," they both echoed.

"Lock and load, Marines," called out Duncan, all trace of the former student gone. "We've got incoming, probably fifteen minutes out. Let's get the welcome party ready."

The four around the Door dropped to their knees and brought up their rifles. The others dragged over tool chests for extra cover. One of them pointed a finger at the big tanks. "What are those?"

"Liquid nitrogen," said Olaf. "Try not to shoot them."

"Really cold?"

"Really explosive."

The Marine swore under his breath and shuffled a few more feet away. They crouched behind the workstations and tool chests. A line of rifles pointed at the Door. Costello swung his oversized rifle onto one of the tool chests and unfolded a bipod at the end of the barrel.

"I was really hoping they'd send more," Jamie murmured to Mike.

"Maybe you should get out of here," he said. "There's nothing more for you to do."

"It's our project," Olaf said.

"I think you all need to leave," said Black. "This is a combat situation now. Fall back to the door, at least." He looked at Mike, then down at the two Marines taping a charge against the ring.

The view through the rings drifted and blurred. Just for a moment it was Site B again. Then it was the empty lot behind the remains of Site B. And then it was the sprawling desert and the charging creatures again.

"Jesus," said Dylan. "What was that?"

"The fold's unstable," said Mike. "The other end of the tunnel is flailing around between different realities."

Weaver looked up at him. "What?"

Black shot a glance at them and the two Marines went back to their explosives.

"f.u.c.k me," said Sasha. "They're on this side of the canyon. They all just kind of lunged forward half a mile or so when it flickered."

"Done," said Dylan. Weaver pressed one last small clump of putty into a gap behind the last charge. They stood up.

"Let's fall back," said Black with another look at the approaching figures. Over two dozen were visible now, and more shadows moved in the dust cloud. "Sir, I need all of you to evacuate the building now." Sasha hopped off the pathway down to the floor. Mike opened his mouth to respond and something changed in his peripheral vision. On the other side of the rings, the middle charge had vanished. The loops of tape were gone. There weren't even any trails of sticky residue left on the carapace.

Jamie was about to hop down and saw his face. "What?"

"Problems."

She turned and followed his gaze. So did Black.

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h," said Weaver. "Where'd it go?"

"f.u.c.k me," Sasha said.

Black glared at Mike, then at each of the others in turn.

Mike looked at Dylan and Weaver. "Will two charges be enough there?"

They traded a look between them. Weaver shrugged. "It should," she said. "Ten pounds'd take out that whole wall if you placed it right, and we've still got thirty-six on this thing."

He looked at Black. "Do it."

"When you're clear. We'll hold position until-"

"We've got time to get clear," snapped Olaf. "Blow the d.a.m.ned thing and let's go."

The sound of feet rumbled out of the Door. It was the noise of a herd. A stampede. They were less than a mile away.

"Five minutes, sir," shouted Duncan.

A healthy man could do a five-minute mile. Mike had no idea how fast a four-legged animal could cover the distance, but he was sure it was less.

"I've got another charge," said Weaver. "A spare."

Black looked at the approaching horde. "How fast?"

She didn't answer, just pulled the last bundle from her bag.

Black grabbed Mike by the shoulder and pushed him down the ramp. "All of you," he said, reaching for Sasha, "go now."

Mike stumbled on the ramp, and his eyes fell to the floor. He caught the movement on the concrete. He watched for three seconds to be sure. His pattern recognition skills were very good.

"The roaches," he said.

Black half-glanced over his shoulder. "What about them?"

"They're all moving away from the rings."

Dylan looked back. Black turned around. Jamie and Olaf took a few more steps down the ramp and looked out at the main floor.

The green c.o.c.kroaches still scurried between tool chests and furniture, but they'd moved far back. The closest ones were almost ten feet from the base of the ramp. Even as Mike watched, their paths retreated a little more.

"f.u.c.k me," Sasha said again.

One of them stopped between the workstations and bent its antennae toward the rings. The tips gleamed like tiny fiber-optic lines. They bent forward, back, forward, and then the c.o.c.kroach turned and raced away.

"What's it mean?" said Black.

"It means we need to do this now," said Mike.

The captain took in a breath and nodded. "You heard the man, sergeant."

"Yes, sir," said Dylan. Behind him, Weaver swept her tools and leftovers back into her bag. She let out a sharp breath that fell somewhere between a whistle and a hiss. It was the sound of something moving fast through the air.

Dylan kicked himself away from the rings. He went off the edge and crashed to the floor in front of his fellow Marines. His body rolled to the side and the spear in his chest clattered against the concrete. His body armor bulged in the back where it kept the spear tip from bursting through.

Another blur of white shot through the rings. It hit the back wall with a crack and dropped to the floor. The next one tore through Olaf's sleeve before burying itself a foot into one of the tool chests.

Mike grabbed Jamie and pulled her down. Sasha threw herself on the floor. Olaf lunged off the platform and landed gracefully in a crouch. Weaver dropped flat on the pathway and rolled until she dropped off the platform and crashed on top of Sasha.

Black turned, and a spear went through the meat of his arm and into his ribs. Nine inches of the tip tore through his uniform on the other side of his body. It was barbed and b.l.o.o.d.y. His knees buckled and he fought to keep his balance with five feet of spear hanging off his arm. He coughed up a mouthful of blood and spat out the words "Blow it."

Then a second spear pa.s.sed through his hip with a crack of bone. He roared once and then sagged on the pathway. The spears kept his body from falling flat, holding him up in a slouched position that almost looked like a yoga pose.

The sound of footsteps shook the huge room. Dozens of spears flew through the ring and the heat haze around it. They rained through the air.

Mike and Jamie huddled in the corner between the ramp and the walkway. He looked beneath the ramp and saw Sasha, Olaf, and Weaver in the corner opposite them. Olaf was staring at something out on the floor. The spears hissed above them.

Three more Marines were dead, skewered by spears. A fourth slumped behind a tool chest and grunted back screams while he held his shattered and b.l.o.o.d.y arm. Two others let off shots from their rifles. One of them was Costello with his big automatic weapon.

The sound reflected off the concrete walls. Duncan yelled something that was lost in the thunderous echo. Inside Mike's head, pattern recognition kicked out the word "sharp."

The rumble of footsteps turned into a clang of steel as the bugmen charged out of the Door and launched themselves off the pathway. Black's body slammed into the floor in front of Mike and Jamie, kicked aside by the invaders. The captain's chin and chest were dark with blood he'd coughed up in his final moments.

The bugmen hurled themselves at the remaining Marines. Their cloaks spread like wings, casting shadows across the room. Some had spears. Some had their claw-like hands stretched out. All three of their hands.

They were caught in midair by high-velocity rounds. Some were torn apart. Others landed with enough life to drive their spears into their killers. Across the main floor, the roar of weapons and the howl of monsters fought to be the loudest sound.

Costello cut down five of the leaping creatures before his weapon ran dry. The sixth punched its spear down through his throat. The jagged head tore out between his shoulder blades, and the bugman rode his body down to the floor. It wrenched the spear free and stalked away. Blood bubbled and spit out of Costello's mouth for a few moments while he died.

Dark blood sprayed across the floor. Spears and talons impaled the Marines. The few survivors fell back. Mike counted five of them. Jim Duncan was one.

Weaver rolled to her feet and brought her rifle up. She marched forward and shot three of the bugmen in the back. A fourth turned and she put a trio of rounds in its face.