BRODHAM SAW PETER'S EYES go wide. Saw his face go pale, slack. Then he fell at Brodham's feet. Behind him, Samil stood in the wall cavity, pistol raised. He sneered at Brodham.

"No matter what you do, Bill, I'll always be there to tear it apart. Now if you please, this one's mine." The barrel of the pistol puffed smoke and Brodham felt something tear through his abdomen. He dropped to a knee, clutching his stomach.

"You bastard," Brodham wheezed. "You traitor."

"Nobody. Calls me. A traitor!" Samil roared, stepping toward Brodham and brandishing the gun in a shaking hand. His thin face was contorted with rage. The sneer was gone, replaced by animal furor. The spider emerged. He knelt in front of Brodham, gripped him by the throat, and screamed into his face. There were no words, just a primal howl. His working eye was narrowed to a slit. His lips were pulled back, and for an insane moment Brodham thought Samil would tear his throat out with his bare teeth.

Still kneeling, Samil holstered the pistol, then reached to his boot and pulled out a thin knife. Left hand still on Brodham's throat, he brought the knife up under Brodham's eyelid.

"You ever have a dog?" Samil whispered into his ear. Brodham kept his eye on the knife tip. "Ever held its head to the ground and watched it squirm under your boot? No matter how many times you kick it, beat it bloody until it can barely walk, it always comes back. See, it thinks it did something wrong. It wants your forgiveness." Samil's face was glistening with sweat. The knife dug into the pouch under Brodham's eye. His stomach burned with pain.

"Humans, they're like dogs," Samil went on. "I will crush a man and everyone he's ever loved, and he'll crawl back to me ready to lick my fingers. This world will do the same. And I just want you to know..." He leaned in even further, his hot, stagnant breath hissing in Brodham's ear, "...so will your pretty little Clarice. I'll kill her like I killed the Parson woman."

Brodham lunged at Samil. The knife's blade plunged into his cheek and ripped a gash down to the corner of his mouth. His sudden weight knocked Samil off balance. The two tumbled onto the floor. The knife skittered from Samil's outstretched fingers. Like a cat, he sprang away and rolled to his feet. His eyes burned with rage. Brodham's burst of energy faded as quickly as it had come. He collapsed onto the floor. Blood spread from his side. His hand reached up weakly to grasp Samil's boot.

Samil shoved it aside and landed a vicious kick to the side of Brodham's head. The room dimmed. The throb of the resonator climbed into Brodham's consciousness. It was all he heard, all he felt. Samil kicked him again. Bodham's arms splayed out at his sides. Something cold on the floor pressed against his hand. Samil kicked him again, even harder. Brodham's ear hung from the side of his head in tatters. Still the steady wump wump wump of the room filled him.

His head fell to the floor, level with Samil's polished black boot. The toe glistened with red. It left the floor. As Samil swung it around again, Brodham gripped the cold object and swung his hand around, plunging Samil's knife into the toe of the boot.

Samil howled and toppled to the floor. His knee landed on Brodham's head. His hands gripped his wounded foot. Still holding the knife, Brodham crawled on top of Samil and pinned him to the floor. Spittle sprayed from Samil's lips as he tried to speak. The man was too enraged to form words.

This, Brodham thought, this is an animal.

Animals got put down.

More falling onto it with his body than pressing with his arms, Brodham plunged the blade into Samil's throat. Buried it until his hands pressed against Samil's skin. Blood flowed under his knuckles. Samil sputtered, spraying pink saliva over Brodham's face. Grunting with the effort, Brodham twisted the knife. Some tendon inside Samil's neck snapped. His face went blank, and his head dropped to the concrete with a dull thud.

Without sparing another look at Samil, Brodham rolled off and crawled back toward Petar. As he passed the hole in the wall, he glanced into the main lab. The towering Tesla coil was in full glory, throwing off sparks that curved and danced and lept to any nearby piece of metal. The beast was in a frenzy around it, circling low on its haunches before leaping toward it and flying back just as quickly. Samil must have used it as a distraction to get past the vucari.

Petar was unconscious, but breathing. His white shirt was almost too dirty to see the blood, but Brodham felt it as he slid his hands under Petar's back.

Brodham looked at Jem on the platform and was startled to see that he could look right through him. Spreading from the center of his torso, a deep blue glow seemed to glide over every surface of his body. Beyond it, the rear wall of the lab was dimly visible, but appeared to be much more distant than it really was. Petar had said the breach opened through the boy.

God, he hoped he was doing the right thing.

Grimacing, he heaved Petar off the floor. His body draped like a rug in his arms. A step at a time, Brodham carried Petar to the platform. There he stopped. Took three long, slow breaths. Lurched Petar's body over the rubber base and onto the vibrating metal surface. Petar slid across the floor like a plastic puck on an air-hockey table. With a tiny shove, Brodham sent him whirling slowly toward the center of the platform, then climbed painfully up after him.

Everything that touched the platform faded to numbness in the space of seconds. It wasn't an entirely comfortable feeling. Brodham pushed himself to his feet and went toward Petar.

Staying well clear of Jem, Brodham pulled Petar back toward him and lifted him once more in a stuttering, swaying lurch. His legs felt like dead logs; they had no feeling. The soles of his feet were prickling with pins and needles.

Dear God, he hoped he was doing the right thing.

Thanks for reading my story! Please VOTE and let me know what you think of it so far, then check out Chapter 54!