Dr. Gerben’s eight car garage was a colossal space, dark and dingy. Dust balls rolled across the cold oil-stained concrete floor.

  The air smelled stronger, a stew of dust, oil, copper, and slow decay. Deep shadows lurked in different sections. Strips of flickering LED lights buzzed from the rafters and gave the cavernous interior an eerie and industrial glow.

  From Beau’s perspective, the eight car garage stretched wider than a stadium. Each vehicle loomed above. A red Ferrari stood on jack stands, its chassis canted. The Porsche hunched nearby, matte gray and scarred with bird droppings. A Tesla gleamed silently under plastic sheeting.

  Exiting their truck, Beau approached the two tarped objects, which stood about fifty Tinyling feet tall. The rest of the convoy formed a wide perimeter. Beau and Tessa pulled the tarp off to each vehicle. Beneath the first tarp sat a black, scuffed, kid’s Jeep with no top. The other vehicle was a kid’s Cadillac Escalade in white. They were those battery powered toys that had enough power to roll over tall grass.

  Beau examined their surroundings. He wondered if there were bugs who already claimed this territory for their own. Were they safe to inspect the kid’s vehicles further?

  Their surroundings stretched into a maze of wrenches, drill bits, and rubber tread laying about the floor quite haphazardly.

  He knelt briefly and ran a gloved finger over a length of old microfiber cloth slumped across a grease puddle. It smelled faintly of citrus cleaner. Most surfaces were textured with grime.

  He stood and adjusted the strap of his Vindicator. “No assumptions of safety. We have to sweep the place for nests. We can’t afford to be ambushed.”

  He turned to the Black Bird convoy behind him. “Split into four teams. North team, check under the cars. East team—patrol the perimeter and check those shelves and stacks of crates. West team—inspect the tool boxes and the seams on either side of the garage door. South team—keep a tight perimeter around us while we investigate these vehicles. If it moves, shoot it.”

  The trucks rolled out and the scouting teams dispersed.

  Lights flared across the concrete from the truck headlights as the Black Birds sped off in every direction. Their wheels buzzed against the concrete. One group parked by a gutter crevice, shined their lights down it, and then repelled down, rifles in hands. Another team scaled a toolbox like mountaineers to get a view from above. Even their shadows looked sharp and dangerous, like special forces.

  Beau and Tessa remained behind and inspected the kid’s Escalade first. She squinted upward.

  “That Escalade could carry thousands of us if we packed in,” she said softly. “Tons of room for storage, too. We can make modifications for even more seating, and even more space.”

  “Do you think Dr. Lorne can help with that?” Beau asked.

  Tessa nodded.

  From deeper in the garage came gunfire—sharp bursts, three quick pops, followed by the wet squeal of something pierced. Another slug smacked into a tool drawer and pinged off it. That was followed by automatic gunfire.

  Tessa looked toward the disturbance with her binoculars. “Roaches,” Tessa said. “They’re being handled.”

  Beau nodded.

  Then another firefight broke out, closer that time, toward the direction of the garage door. Tessa chambered a fresh magazine.

  “Do you think they’re enjoying this?”

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  “Some are,” Beau said.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Mind if I join them?”

  “Before you do, let’s retrieve Dr. Lorne and a team of engineers to begin working on these vehicles. Come with me.”

  “You got it.”

  Within ten minutes, Beau and Tessa sped back to Dome 101, grabbed Dr. Lorne and a bunch of engineers with a fresh convoy, and parked near the kid’s vehicles. Immediately, the engineers, per Dr. Lorne’s instruction, set up work stations.

  Tessa gave her mother a rundown on their findings and asked if she could repair the vehicles, make them functional for their uses. Dr. Lorne said she would try.

  Beau watched as Dr. Lorne and her assistants bolted doll house furniture into the black Jeep’s cab. They found a whole horde of it inside a pink-walled bedroom that must have belonged to Dr. Gerben’s daughter. They turned the cupholders of the Jeep and Escalade into supply cradles. They bolted doll house furniture strategically to provide stable seating. Some of the furniture was secured to the sides to provide walkways for a security detail, to fire upon incoming targets.

  Tessa helped her mother until Beau came over and grabbed her and said. “Come on, you said you wanted to join the others. Go have some fun. I can manage things from here. Go blast some bugs.”

  Tessa smirked. She loaded a fresh magazine. “Well, if you’re suggesting it…”

  She waved down a passing recon truck who slowed down for her. Then she vaulted into the bed of the truck, which then sped off toward the workbenches in the corner of the garage. Beau watched her disappear into the blue-lit shadow beneath the Tesla.

  Behind him, the engineers working on the Jeep finalized their adjustments. It wasn’t long before the Escalade was outfitted for transportation. They tied roped webbing between seat rails and used safety pins as ladder rings along the side panels. Everything was coming together quickly.

  Gunfire cracked again deeper within the garage.

  Beau didn’t flinch.

  Bootfalls sounded off. Patrols filed back across the landscape, between a section of concrete which was littered with fallen bolts and screwdrivers. One scout limped, he’d taken a hit from a centipede whose fangs barely missed him. They laughed about it, because they eventually killed it and the man would survive.

  Then, something else came.

  From the deepest dark beneath the Tesla’s car frame, something brown and thick-limbed skittered toward them. Its fur bristled in the LED light. It moved like a missile and had eight legs. Its eyes reflected pure black intent.

  It was a wolf spider.

  “CONTACT!” Beau shouted.

  Gunfire erupted from nearly every direction, even from the distant squads positioned up on the rafters.

  Slugs whipped through the air in disciplined firing lanes to avoid crossfire like Beau had trained them. The wolf spider shrieked, an unearthly and clattering rasp, then lunged straight into the fray. Its abdomen bled in thick globs, but it didn’t slow. It leapt over an overturned vise clamp and crashed into a group of militia near the Jeep.

  One of them—a girl, barely past training—was too slow.

  It seized her in its jaws and bolted. Screams followed. Blood streaked the floor. She flailed, kicked, and tried to fire her rifle. It didn’t matter. The spider vanished beneath the Tesla. It dragged her like a rag doll.

  Beau ran for her, alongside a handful of militia fighters.

  He jumped over a washer, a bolt head slick with grease, and over the lip of a glue cap. He ran into the kill zone, Vindicator in hand, just as the spider’s legs buckled.

  The spider rolled, twitched, and leaked from dozens of wounds.

  Beau raised his rifle.

  He emptied an entire magazine into its head, point blank.

  The spider’s skull imploded, spraying fluid across Beau’s boots. He yanked the girl’s body free from its fangs; but she didn’t move, didn’t respond.

  She was already dead.

  He stood there, panting, staring down at the limp girl in his arms. Her eyes remained open. The blood soaked through the gaps and holes in her armor from where the wolf spider pierced her with its fangs. Beau lowered her gently, quietly, and closed her eyes with two fingers.

  Behind him, boots gathered. Rifles lowered.

  Tessa’s voice came softly. “Not like this…come on…”

  Beau stood. He didn’t look at anyone. “Get her back to the dome,” he said. “Find her a plot and bury her. If she has family, inform them.”

  “Should we abandon the garage? Is it too dangerous?”

  “No. We honor her by completing the mission. We stay.”