Will put the dark glasses on and saw a roiling mass of hideous black slugs pouring across the meadow. They swarmed over the cows, consuming them, reducing them in seconds to bony carcasses.
Horrified, Will took off the glasses. The image disappeared. “Why can’t I see these things without the glasses?”
“Electromagnetic frequency issue,” said Dave. “Takes a while for ’em to enter our visual spectrum once they cross over. The lenses compensate. We don’t usually hand ’em out, but you need a sniff of what you’re up against.”
“Of what I’m up against?”
“Bringing you up to speed at the right pace is my goal at this stage of the game. I’ve seen strong men collapse under the strain, but you’re doing a bang-up job.”
Will took a deep breath. “Can they come across on their own?”
“Starve the bloody lizards, there’s a heart-stopper. If the Fuzzy-Wuzzies could carve open a weasel hole by themselves from their side of the membrane? We’d be hip-deep in creepers by now.”
“Did you just call them Fuzzy-Wuzzies?”
“Not a technical term, more of a nickname.”
Will swallowed hard. “So this is how they brought over that … thing they used on my mom.”
“The Ride Along. One of the nastiest buggers in their playbook.”
“Show it to me,” said Will.
Dave raised the cube and another image projected on the walclass="underline" a vile tube-shaped “bug.”
“A small but vicious infestation unit,” said Dave. “It loads into a mechanical tracker that carries it to the target, where it deploys and attaches like a parasite on the back of the neck. They’re usually mistaken for an insect bite.”
Will remembered the red mark he’d seen on Belinda’s neck in the kitchen back home. His skin started crawling.
“It drills in and hatches into the bloodstream. Its spawn infiltrates the nervous system, spreads up to the brain, and starts to influence behavior.”
The image illustrated the infestation Dave described, as the implanted bug attacked a generic three-dimensional human “model.”
“You’re saying … this thing can take over a person’s mind?” asked Will.
“That’s right. The part we don’t understand yet is that it seems to work on more than just people. They can latch on to anything—animals, plants, even inanimate objects. Some of which, under laboratory conditions, have become … animated.”
“Can you get rid of them? Do the victims survive?”
“Not that we know of,” said Dave gently. “I’m sorry, mate.”
There was a loud knock at the door.
“Keep your voice down,” whispered Will.
“I told you they can’t hear me—”
“Just a second!” said Will. He opened the door to the closet. “Then would you mind stepping in here?”
“Not necessary.”
“They can’t see you either?”
Dave smiled. “Not unless we want them to.”
There was another even more urgent knock on the door. When Dave turned to it, Will noticed the back of his jacket again.
“By the way,” said Will, lowering his voice, “I know what ANZAC is.”
“Good on ya, mate. And what’s that got to do with the price of pancakes?”
“It’s on the back of your jacket? Hello?”
“So it is. I’d be well advised to never underestimate your powers of observation.”
Dave extended a finger and tipped over the open bottle of water on Will’s desk. It hit the ground and began pouring out onto the floorboards. Will rolled his eyes in annoyance, unlocked the door, and opened it a crack.
Brooke. Still wearing her coat and scarf, a little out of breath. Tiny beads of sweat dotted her freckled nose and forehead. She had an urgent look in her eyes.
“Sorry, can I come in?” she asked.
“Sure. Just pay no attention to … oh, never mind.”
Brooke slipped inside. Will closed the door. She clearly didn’t see Dave, who perked up in his chair as soon as Brooke breezed in. In fact, Dave wolf-whistled.
“Sweet raspberry tea cakes,” said Dave appreciatively.
“Shut up,” said Will.
“What?” said Brooke, turning to him.
“Nothing. I said, ‘What up?’ ”
“Will, listen, I came in downstairs just now and the door was open to Lyle’s office, and I saw Todd in there talking to Lyle. In a very intense way that I can only describe as conspiratorial.”
“What a stunner,” said Dave. “She is a serious beauty, mate.”
“Todd and Lyle,” said Will, shooting an angry look at Dave behind Brooke’s back and drawing a finger across his lips: Zip it.
“That’s right, and then I got up here and Nick just told me about what happened with you and Todd at practice today—”
“All in good fun—”
“No, Will, you don’t understand: If you made a mess in his sandbox, Todd is coming after you. The shortest distance possible, point A to point B—”
“What is this guy’s problem?”
“The problem is that Todd has no fuse. When he gets angry, he just detonates, without warning, and you need to get out of his way.”
“And he needs to leave you alone,” said Will.
“That’s the spirit, kid,” said Dave.
“We’re not talking about me,” said Brooke. “I’m talking about you. They’re probably on their way up here right now.”
“So?”
“So haven’t you read the Code of Conduct? Do you want to hand them a reason to kick you out of school?”
“What reason?”
Brooke’s eyes went wide with alarm: “Your cell phone?!”
“Oh, right.” Will took it out and held it up to her. “Here, you take it.”
“No! Will, they can search the whole pod if they don’t find anything in here—”
“Better listen to her, mate,” said Dave.
“Lyle has the authority to do that?” asked Will.
“Yes, and you’d know that if you’d read the manual. Why is there water all over your floor? Get a towel—”
The front bell to the pod rang repeatedly.
“They’re here,” she said. “I’ll try to stall them. Toss that phone out the window. Lock the door after me. Now.”
She rushed out of the room. Will closed and locked the door. He looked at the phone in his hand, then looked at Dave, who hadn’t budged from his seat at the desk. He didn’t look particularly concerned.
“I really need to hang on to this,” said Will.
“Roger that. Better find a place to stash it, then,” said Dave.
Dave rocked back and tapped his boot on the floor. Will was surprised to see that nearly all the spilled water had disappeared. He dropped to his hands and knees for a closer look and realized the remaining water was draining into a nearly invisible crack between floorboards under the rear left leg of the desk.
He heard raised voices in the great room: Brooke, possibly Nick. Definitely Lyle and Todd. They were already inside.
Will shifted the desk a few inches over, then knelt down and felt around the edges of the crack, digging in with his fingernails. He grabbed hold and pulled; the board shifted slightly upward but wouldn’t give any farther.
He retrieved his Swiss Army knife, opened the thinnest blade, and wedged it between the boards. He levered the loose board up a fraction of an inch until he could grab hold, then yanked it out, a three-by-six-inch chunk of wood, clean edges, finely cut. Seamless. Undetectable to the naked eye.