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I cleared my throat. “The nymph?”

“Yes”—he swallowed—“ma’am.”

The pause on ma’am bristled. Distrust noted.

His bushy eyebrows crawled together as he turned. “This way.”

Long fingernails, jagged and yellow, dragged over the rungs of the cage, stripping what was left of the paint. Swaths of pink satin hung from a cadaverous body, and dark skin stretched like translucent paper over the joints of the skeletal arms. And the moans. The disturbing lament penetrated my bones and made them ache.

What was that guy in the safari truck thinking with the nail polish and the hair ties? Seriously, was he going to sit here and paint its talons? It would thank him by opening its mouthparts and stabbing him into an aphid. Maybe, he was just being hopeful. Hopeful for a cure.

I leaned against Roark, who hadn’t moved from the entrance of what appeared to be an animal clinic. Dented steel tables, dust-covered sinks, empty refrigerators, and a wall of cages crammed the space. If there had once been an antiseptic smell, it was now smothered in mildew and neglect.

Michio and Jesse checked the closet and cabinets—For dead bodies? Bogeymen? A stash of weapons? I didn’t blame them for being cautious.

The nymph rolled its head back and stretched its jaw. Thin tubular appendages squirmed past its lips, sliding around a longer, spear-like tentacle. The fleshy mouthparts grasped at the air, reaching with urgency.

It was a ghastly sight, but I could still make out remnants of the human woman. Long eyelashes fluttered as it screamed. It swatted at the tangle of black hair in its face. And it seemed to recognize Amos, its tiny pupils tracking his movements as he entered the room.

But the creature’s chemical resonance was what rooted me in the doorway. Whether it was the physical nearness or some emotional association through our shared link, the strange frequency waving from it twisted my stomach to the point of pain.

I turned to poke my head outside and fill my lungs with fresh air. Tallis and Georges patrolled opposite ends of the reserve, which spread over the grassy plain, encircled by scrubby woodland. I didn’t sense aphids and felt confident we were safe. For now anyway.

The din of winged insects and chattering birds drifted in from the sprawling valley. The landscape was scenic under the blaze of the sun, blooming in a hundred shades of overgrown. Rustic wood fences corralled the property, but huge sections had collapsed beneath the creeping, flowering arms of Mother Nature.

If we succeeded in saving the human race, what would the world look like in several hundred years? Would the land mammals be gone, eaten? What about the birds and the insects and the critters that were too small for the aphids to care about? Would they flourish? Or perish because of a ripple in the food chain?

I swallowed those thoughts and shifted back toward the room.

Amos assumed a chin-up, chest-out pose in front of the nymph’s cage. “This is Shea, Jackson’s wife.” Legs spread, he angled the rifle at the concrete floor in a tight grip. “I worked the grounds here with them…you know, before…” He glared at each of us and settled on me. “You sure Jackson is turned?”

I stepped away from the doorway. “We found a newly-mutated aphid in his truck.”

Roark’s arm hooked around my waist, stopping me. Thank God, because the sonority of the nymph’s fear and confusion barreled through me, wobbling my knees.

“Your friend, Jackson?” Michio picked through the cluttered drawers, tossing back empty pill bottles and setting aside gauze and bandages. “He wore a silver belt buckle?”

Amos nodded, his brown eyes closing for a moment then flicking open. “Two years we been feeding her blood from deer, vermin, pig when we have it. As long as we kept her fed, she ain’t got worse.” He peeked at the nymph and returned to us. “She ain’t got better either.”

Smart that they knew to cage it before it bit one of them.

Michio dropped the duffel bag he’d retrieved from our truck. “When I inject the nymph with Evie’s blood, it’ll reverse the mutation.”

The nymph swayed side to side, crouched behind Amos. Its clawed hand swiped at him through the bars, missing his backside. Amos knew exactly how far away to safely stand, and his distance seemed to infuriate the creature as it curled back its lips in a spit-soaked screech.

My insides flinched, the connection between us crushing my airway. It felt like a pair of hands gripping my organs and smashing them together. They shook me until the nymph’s screams bled through my veins and became my own. “Enough!”

The nymph fell silent, its head whipping in my direction, followed by every other head in the room.

Roark wrapped both arms around me, his mouth at my ear. “Breathe.”

He inhaled, exhaled, slowly, evenly, setting the pace.

As I matched his breaths, my pulse returned to normal and my insides contracted and loosened. After a few minutes, the nymph slouched against the back wall, its chest rising and falling in sync with ours. Could it sense my emotions the way I sensed its desperation? Really fucking eerie.