“Work the night shift, they said.” Oscar pushed his chair back from the wall of screens. “It’ll be easy, they said.” He wheeled himself over to the small desk holding the telephone and began pressing the number for the tactical team’s head. “Well, in what world is a twenty-foot-tall praying mantis easy?”Read it now
The tangled jungle darkened around Damon as the sun slipped from the sky.
“We will stop here for the night,” he called to the men trudging behind him. They eased the supply packs from their shoulders and threw themselves to the ground with weary sighs of relief.
All except one.
“Are you sure
There is nothing more tedious than a Chalean war party. Their banter is unintelligent, their manners are lackluster, and don’t even get me started on the leftover jerky I’ve been forced to eat for nine days in a row now.
Maybe—maybe—if they had let me ride on a horse that didn’t sneeze
The mold had grown since Hannah first noticed it in the corner of the warm attic—a fist-sized patch of black silken hairs with a silver shimmer. She sprayed it with bleach, then waddled down the ladder, and returned to tiling the bathroom. The doctor told her to stop working, but she couldn’t rest.Read it now
“What makes it work?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.
“We don’t really know,” Dr. Tine shrugged. “Some energy source that we haven’t been able to figure out. Our scientists who worked in the lab with the last one ended up getting sick, and some of them died within months. Nasty stuff.
The rich aroma of coffee flooded my gray bottlenose. I picked up my mug with one flipper and sighed happily. My break had arrived, that relaxing island of time. A chance to drink coffee and think about my favorite video game, Call of Da Sea.
I gazed longingly at a chair, wishing I had
I lost it!
The one thing. The one responsibility I had in my care. And I lost it.
I raced down the corridor. My diamond-sharp claws dug into the floor, and my smooth, taut wings accelerated me forward. Suddenly, my shoulder slammed into a polished iron door. It swung back on its hinges
We’re a ragtag team, if ever I’ve seen one. Gathered around Major’s battered table in the dimly lit bunker, there’s no less than five kinds of crazy.
Jones, the intellectual, dissecting a cicada under a magnifying glass.
Flint, the muscle; he’s too big for his shirt, probably on purpose.
Qora, the gadgets girl.
Dr. Byron Stoneburner made his camp on the side of the Artic mountain. He nibbled what jerky remained in his pack and warmed his frostbitten nose next to the fire, calculating his progress by the aged map in his possession. The yellowing pages had turned brittle in the frosty air, but he had memorizedRead it now