A marine biologist named Chris Wick found a discarded shovel and used it to fend off a pursuing Clicker. The monster grasped it, snapping the makeshift weapon in half. Then it did the same to him. Its claws made a terrible clicking noise, like two steel plates being banged together. Wick shrieked as he watched the creature begin to feed on his lower half. Then a Dark One speared him through the heart.
Melissa Levitz thought she’d escaped the carnage as she ducked into a small beach hut. When she heard a rustling sound behind her and felt something shove hard against her back, Melissa was unsure what had happened at first. Then she glanced down and noticed the stinger jutting from between her breasts. She drew breath to scream, but her cries turned into a choked gobbling as the stinger was drawn back inside of her. She felt it throbbing as venom was pumped into her body. Seconds later, her skin began to bubble and hiss as if she were being cooked from the inside. Blisters formed on her body. Melissa’s eyes grew wide as the blisters swelled, and then burst, oozing pink fluids. Melissa squirmed and thrashed, sliding down the tail and trailing viscera. She opened her mouth to scream and vomited blood and her own dissolving internal organs instead. The Clicker yanked its tail free and Melissa slid to the floor. The hole in her mid-section bubbled and steamed. Parts of her insides still clung to the stinger.
One group of researchers decided that their best chance of escape was to actually flee into the ocean and run along the beach. The five of them waited for a break in the carnage and then did just that. As they plunged into the surf, another group of Dark Ones came ashore astride a pack of Clickers. The hapless humans never stood a chance. The Dark Ones cut the first three down with their tridents and swords. A Clicker attacked the fourth scientist, snipping away her arms and legs as if she were a paper doll. The foaming spray turned crimson. The fifth scientist scampered backward, heading ashore again. He tripped, sank beneath the waves, and then surfaced, sputtering and coughing as his attackers loomed over him. A Clicker’s stinger darted forth, stabbing him in the chest. His eyes rolled back into his head, showing only white. Seconds later a Dark One who sat astride the beast, thrust a three-pronged trident into his face and then yanked it back out, taking the man’s eyes with it. The victim jittered, convulsing on the sand. The Clicker’s tail pulsed, pumping venom through the appendage. The Dark One stabbed the corpse again, laughing with glee. Nearby, another Clicker consumed a still-living human. The helpless woman shrieked and wailed as the creature’s claws tore at her flesh, slicing skin and muscle away with an almost delicate precision, and shoveling the meat into its beaked mouth.
Many of the fleeing scientists took shelter in the jungle, hoping that the thick vegetation would hide them from the murderous creatures—and it did, until several black Clickers waddled to the edge of the jungle and began to spray the trees and undergrowth with venom. The noxious fluid splattered the humans as well. Wood and flesh bubbled and melted.
The Dark Ones waded ashore behind the rampaging Clickers, stepping around the bubbling piles of flesh that had once been human bodies. Armed with tridents, nets fashioned from a peculiar, flexible metal, and weapons salvaged from various shipwrecks, the lizard-men joined the fray, slaughtering any researchers unlucky enough to have escaped the Clickers unscathed.
Clouds passed over the moon, plunging the beach into merciful darkness.
The screams continued.
FOUR
Clark Arroyo set the rake inside the condominium’s utility shed and cast a backward glance at Tony Genova’s unit. He had a clear view of the front door, but the dense shrubs that he’d maintained over the past few days provided good cover from his vantage point. There was no way he could be seen by the three government agents who’d just showed up—not under the cover of darkness.
Despite the weeks of preparation for this day, he hadn’t anticipated a visit from Tony’s FBI handlers, especially so soon. Clark had been keeping track of them; they usually checked in on Tony in person once a month, and every week by phone or email. The last time they’d visited Tony in person was a week-and-half ago.
So why were they visiting him again so soon?
Clark watched out of the corner of his eye as one of the agents touched the side of Tony’s neck and the former crime-figure slumped to the floor. Half of him lay inside the apartment. The other half lay on the stoop.
The agents moved quickly, but Clark was quicker. He dipped behind the utility shed, counted to five, then risked a peek through the vegetation.
Whoever these guys were, they were good. They’d moved Tony inside and shut the front door.