Summer's End
by Nigel G. Mitchell

Copyright September 1995

Here's the first chapter of a novel I wrote based on the first season of "Sliders" called "Summer's End." I won't say much about it, except that the situation the Sliders get into will seem very familiar...

I'd really like some feedback on this. Good, bad, or whatever. And if anyone involved in the TV show reads this, consider it a resume'. Enjoy.

After reading other "Sliders" fanfic, I noticed some of them contain copyright information, so here's mine: The following story is intended for entertainment purposes only. It can be freely distributed, but cannot be sold, altered, or translated into any other form without written permission from the author. Some of the characters and settings of this story are the property of St. Clare Entertainment, used without authorization. The author recieves no compensation from the distribution of this work.

CHAPTER ONE

The sky grumbled with thunder as rain fell over the city of San Francisco. The storm pattered over the sidewalks, the umbrellas carried by the men and women hurrying down the streets, and the cars that roared by.

The rain also pounded in a filthy alley where four garbage cans were leaned against a wall. No one took note of the cans as they passed the alley's entrance. This was a shame, because if they had, they would have seen one of the cans move.

One of the cans shuddered, then the lid raised an inch with a metallic squeal. A pair of blue eyes could be seen through the crack that resulted, eyes that looked around the alley with caution.

A deep, but childish voice emerged from the can. "Okay, I think we lost them."

Another voice emerged from another garbage can, this one deeper and resonant with authority, touched with a clipped British accent. "Thank heavens. If I have to spend one more second in this disease-ridden receptacle, I swear I shall go insane."

A thid garbage can spoke, this time with a high, girlish voice. "Hey, Professor, if it wasn't for you, we wouldn't need to be in these things in the first place."

The garbage cans opened and four people stepped out, three men and one woman.

Quinn Mallory peered down the alley as he brushed off his jacket. "I think we should be okay here, at least long enough to make the slide."

Professor Maximillian Arturo plucked a banana peel off his jacket. "Thank heavens. I don't want to spend another second in this world of savages."

Wade Wells glared up at Arturo with her hands on her hips. "Savages? We Would've been okay here if it hadn't been for your bad habits."

"Look, I haven't touched a cigarette in ten years. But if sliding through alternate realities isn't enough to drive someone back to smoking, I don't know what is."

"Well, you picked a lousy time to start."

Quinn was inclined to agree as he glanced up at a weathered billboard visible from the alley that read "Just Say No To Tobacco." It had become quickly apparent to them that they were in a world where cigarettes were illegal, a controlled substance like cocaine or heroin in their own world. Using them was a felony, punishable by life imprisonment or death.

Unfortunately, they had discovered this only after Professor Arturo had tried to buy cigarettes at a corner store, an act that had gotten them into a sting operation. After escaping from jail, they had spent the last twenty-four hours hiding from a police squad under orders to shoot to kill.

Rembrandt "Crying Man" Brown brushed a moldy bread-crust off his leg. "Hey, Q-Ball, how much time we got left?"

"I dunno. Lemme check." Quinn pulled the timer out of his pocket, what looked like a portable phone with switches and dials on it. He shielded the timer against the rain with his hand, then said, "Twenty seconds."

"Excellent," Arturo said. "More than enough time to escape, as long as nothing unforeseen occurs."

Quinn became aware of the wailing of sirens drawing closer. "Uh, Professor, you were saying something about something unforeseen happening?"

They could all hear tires squealing outside the alley and the clatter of boots as men jumped out of their cars. They were shouting and running towards the entrance of the alley.

Wade grabbed Quinn's arm. "Quick, open the portal."

"I can't," Quinn said, glaring at his timer. "Not for another ten seconds."

Shadows danced at the alley entrance, shadows of men with guns.

"In ten seconds,' Rembrandt yelled, "we're gonna be swiss cheese!"

"Five seconds," Quinn murmured.

Men in uniforms came running into view at the entrance of the alley. They skidded to a halt. One of them pointed at the small group huddled inside.

"There they are," he yelled.

"Three...two...one!" Quinn twisted the dial on his timer.

A conical beam emerged from the end of the timer. It stopped short in space, where the air seemed to ripple, then expand into a swirling blue disc. The disc expanded until it formed a gaping hole in its center, one in which could be seen a darkened tunnel.

Quinn ran towards the hole and dove into it headfirst, yelling "Geronimo!"

He disappeared with a flash, leaving the hole rippling in his wake.

Arturo, Rembrandt, and Wade stared at his descent.

"Okay," Rembrandt said, "who gets to go second?"

"Open fire!" the policeman yelled.

Bullets sailed through the air like rain as the policemen opened fire on the small group. Arturo, Rembrandt, and Wade exchanged a glance, then ran for the swirling gateway. They all dove into it at once, disappearing in a blinding flash of light.

****

Down the tunnel they slid, a tunnel of flashing lights and bizarre colors. Quinn kept his eyes shut. He found it was easier to handle that way, but the journey was far from smooth, twisting and bending in unpredictable and nauseating ways. He could hear the screams of his companions behind him, and he didn't blame them. The slide was always a terrifying experience, coupled with the knowledge that they had no control over where they would come out.

Just as it seemed unbearable, they burst out into the light.

****

Quinn was flying through open air. He landed on a hard concrete floor, driving the air out of his chest.

He sat up with a groan and looked up at the glowing disc he had emerged from. As he watched, there was flash, then Arturo popped out. He landed on his back with a meaty thump and a groan.

Then Wade emerged, arms and legs flailing, to land head-first in a garbage can. She hit with crunch, leaving her legs flailing in the air along with muffled cries.

Finally, Rembrandt exploded out of the gateway to land next to Arturo, who was just beginning to sit up. The gateway closed behind with a rushing noise.

"You know what I hate most about sliding?" Rembrandt groaned. "Sliding."

Quinn got up and ran over to Wade, who was still wriggling inside the garbage can. He grabbed her legs and pulled her out, placing her gently on her feet. Wade braced herself against him, trying to recover from her dizziness.

"Oh, man," Wade breathed, "what a rush."

Quinn made sure everyone was all right, then looked at his surroundings.

It looked exactly like the alley they had just left, but that didn't surprise Quinn. They always ended up in the new dimension at the corresponding location from which they had left. But the fact that the alley looked the same was a good sign. It meant things weren't that different in this world. The only apparent difference was that it wasn't raining in this dimension.

Rembrandt looked around him with a smile. "Hey, this ain't too bad. Looks like hme to me."

"No," Arturo said, and pointed at a wall. "Look and see if you can find the difference."

They all looked at the bare wall.

Wade squeezed rainwater out of her shirt as she said, "There's nothing there, Professor."

"Exactly," Arturo said. "In the alley we just left, there were four trashbins there, the one we were hiding in. Here, there are none."

"So what?" Rembrandt asked. "Maybe it's trash-day in this world."

"Maybe," Quinn said. "But look at this trash on the floor."

They looked down at a few banana peels lying nearby. They were as black and wrinkled as leather.

"These peels have been here a very long time," Quinn said.

Rembrandt shook his head. "Man, you guys are gettin' pessimistic. It looks like home, it feels like home, I say we're home."

"So do I," Wade said. "Quinn..."

Quinn shrugged and looked at the timer in his hand. "Well, according to this, we've got five days to figure it out. Might as well get going. We can't even see the street from in here."

They all headed for the alley entrance. As the street came into view, they all began to slow their pace until the came to a halt. Their eyes widened as they looked out on a nightmarish scene.

Rembrandt shook his head. "Oh, man...this ain't our world."

Quinn was inclined to agree, because the street was unlike anything he had ever seen. The building, the cars, and lampposts of San Francisco were there, but there were no people. It seemed obvious why, because everything was covered with a pale wispy substance, like billions of yards of white thread.

Quinn looked down at the sidewalk, covered in the greyish cloth. He stretched out a foot to step on it.

Arturo stopped him with a hand. "One moment, Mr. Mallory."

He picked up a stick on the floor. "Can't be too careful, dear boy. We have no idea what we're up against."

Arturo slowly reached out with the stick until the end hovered over the sidewalk. Then he touched the stick to the ground.

Nothing happened.

He raised the stick slightly, and the wispy threading was adhered to the end, stretching upwards in a fragile pyramid.

Arturo tugged on it, grunting. "It's, umph...quite strong. And covered with an adhesive."

Quinn crouched to study it. "Can't be natural. Could be some sort of chemical accident. Or maybe an ecological thing, something in the air that affects things, like rust."

"Think it's safe to breathe?" Rembrandt asked.

"I dunno," Quinn said. "But we're not dead yet."

Wade said nothing, but slid her hand around Quinn's arm to hold him tightly. She was just scared as the rest of them, but didn't want to show it.

Arturo managed to pull the stick free of the substance, then signed. "Well, I believe it would be best if we got moving."

He took a step towards the sidewalk.

The others looked at each other. They could see the fear reflected in their eyes, but knew the Professor was right. They all began to walk towards the entrance of the alley.

"Great," Rembrandt murmured, "just great. Just once, why can't we end up on a world filled with nice, harmless bunny rabbits?"

Arturo took his first step onto the gooey sidewalk. His shoe stuck to the ground immediately. He put his other foot down to the ground, then tugged his other foot loose.

"With a little effort," Arturo grunted, "I believe we can walk on this."

The others followed suit, taking steps out onto the gunk, then pulled themselves free. It was slow-going, but Arturo was right. It could be done.

Out of the alley, they could get a better view of the city. Quinn had been hoping that things just looked bad from their previous vantage point. He was wrong. They could now see that the entire street was covered in the white gunk, everything from the buildings to the sewer grates. They could even see the edges of the skyscrapers in the distance that were nothing more than wispy protrusions in the blanket that had covered the city.

"Look at the cars," Wade whispered.

Quinn saw them, and immediately recognized her point. There were cars in the middle of the street, left behind, their doors wide open.

"Whoever lived here," Rembrandt said, "left in an awful big hurry."

Wade looked up at the sky. "You know...there's something familiar about this place."

"Yeah, it's San Francisco," Rembrandt said. "We've been here before."

"No, this is different," Wade said. "It's more than the city. It all feels...familiar."

Quinn pointed at the building behind them. "Hey...look at that."

The others followed Quinn's gaze to the wall behind them, sheathed in the ominous cloth.

"Look how it's moving," Quinn said. "Wind blowing though it. There are...holes in the walls behind it."

And they could all see it. The white sheets bulged as wind blew through the gaps behind them. If they were indeed holes, then most of the building was gone.

Wade took a step towards it. The ground tore away beneath her. She fell into a massive hole hidden under the white cloth with a scream. Quinn lunged forward to grab her arm. He caught her wrist just as she fell from sight. He tugged and grunted with Atruro and Rembrandt's help, hauling Wade back up to ground level.

She was trembling violently as she regained her balance. "Oh, man...that was close."

Arturo knelt to peer at the hole she had exposed. "This seems to lead down into the sewer. I think there may be more of these holes hidden under this mess. We should watch our step."

Quinn looked down at the edges of the hole, peeling away the wispy substance obscuring it. "Hey, professor...look at this. The edges are smooth. Not jagged. And these marks all around it, almost as if..."

"It's been chewed," Arturo said. "Something chewed these holes."

Rembrandt held up his hands. "That's it. I am not stayin' another minute in this world. Q-Ball, fire up the timer and get us out of here."

Quinn looked up at him. "Rembrandt, I don't think that would be a good idea. It's too dangerous."

"Mr. Mallory is right," Arturo said. "Let's not panic into making any rash actions..."

Wade raised her hands. "Wait a minute. Do you guys hear something? Like a...a buzzing?"

Rembrandt frowned. "Hey, yeah, I do hear it."

Then Quinn heard it. A low murmuring buzz that was growing louder and louder with each passing moment. It was familiar, but he couldn't figure out where he had heard it before.

"This does not sound good," Arturo said. "I think we'd better..."

Wade thrust out her finger at the sky. "Look!"

They did. They all looked up at the corner of a nearby building where the buzzing was loudest. The noise grew to a crescendo, then something came into view.

At first, Quinn thought it was a cloud passing overhead. Then he was able to pick out individual particles within it, moving and shifting. And he realized the cloud was alive. It was made of hundreds of creatures, and it reminded him of a swarm of bees, but these were no bees. As more of the cloud came into view, the front dipped downwards towards them. The swarm was drawing closer, and Quinn could see what the cloud was made of.

They were insects, but unlike any insects they had back home. These were huge, at least a foot long. Wings buzzed on their backs as their long legs dangled beneath spindly bodies. Unlike bees, these insects had enlarged abdomens and eight legs like spiders. But unlike spiders, these insects also sported elongated stingers like wasps. And Quinn didn't need to examine the insects to know the stingers were filled with a lethal venom.

"Oh, no," Rembrandt said, "not again."

CHAPTER TWO

Quinn couldn't help but agree with Rembrandt's comment. "Oh, no" was right, but more important was the "not again." Because they had all seen these creatures before, a few months ago. They had only spent a few minutes in that world, but it had felt like a lifetime, and it had been one of the most terrifying worlds they had ever encountered.

They had landed in time to hear a recorded message warning them about an incoming swarm. A nearby TV newsbroadcast had told the rest of the story.

They had landed in a world where a group of Venezuelan scientists accidentally unleashed a genetically-engineered insect. In this way, it was similar to the "killer bee" infestation of Quinn's original world. But in other ways, it was far more deadly.

The Venezuelan scientists had combined a spider and a wasp to create a dreaded new lifeform; the South American Spiderwasp. The news report had described the spiderwasps' deadly attributes; a deadly venom, a foot-long wingspan, an immunity to all known pesticides, and the ability to chew through walls, making no building a safe hiding place.

The spiderwasps had expanded their range from South America to southern California in six years, and the inhabitants of San Francisco had had no choice but to flee from the incoming swarm. Quinn and his friends had landed in the abandoned city just minutes before the swarm was due to arrive.

Their timer had been set for 24 hours, but as the deadly swarm approached, the others had forced Quinn to open the gateway early. They were lucky then. The gateway had malfunctioned, seperating Quinn and Arturo from Rembrandt and Wade, but only by dropping them in different locations on the same world. It took two days for them to track each other down again, but they had survived.

Now Quinn was getting a horrible sense of deja vu' as he watched another swarm of spiderwasps descending upon them.

"I don't believe it," Wade whispered. "Again. It's happening again."

"Yes," Arturo said, taking a step back. "That explains the strange substance covering the city; spiderwebbing. Apparently, we've ended up back on that world."

Wade stared at him. "Is that possible?"

"Why not? We've always assumed we would slide to a different world each time, but there's no reason why we wouldn't open a gateway to a world we've already been to. It was just very implausible, but apparently it's happened."

"Out," Rembrandt said. "I want out of this world right now, you hear me, Q-Ball?"

Quinn took another step back. "Look, remember what happened the last time I opened a gateway early? We came that close to losing each other. Anything could go wrong."

The swarm of spiderwasps was reaching ground level. They could see the red, glittering eyes of the first wave as the insects buzzed closer and closer.

"I don't care," Rembrandt said. "We can't stay here. I'd rather end up impaled on the Empire State Building than get eaten alive by those things."

"Mr. Brown is right," Arturo said. "We'll have to risk it, dear boy. We have no choice."

"Okay," Quinn murmured. "You asked for it."

He aimed the timer at an empty space, then turned the dial. The beam shot out to pierce reality, opening up a dizzying pool in thin air.

But the high rushing noise that accompanied it faded on and off. The gateway opened with a sucking noise, then closed again. Then it opened a little wider, then snapped shut again.

Wade clutched Quinn's arm as he struggled with the timer, punching buttons furiously. "Quinn, quit fooling around!"

"I'm not!" Quinn yelled. "Something's wrong! The portal won't stay open!"

The spiderwasps had reached ground level. They swept towards the Sliders in unison, as synchronized as the Blue Angels in an airshow, headed straight for them.

Quinn gave up trying to work with the timer. He balled up a fist and gave the device a good, hard whack.

The timer burst into a frenzy of sparks. The gateway closed up, the rippling halted, and the timer's beam faded to nothing. Quinn tried frantically to reactivate it, but to no avail. The timer merely sizzled in response.

"I told you," Quinn said. "I told you it wouldn't work in advance."

"We're gonna die," Rembrandt whispered. "And I never did get to sing the national anthem."

Quinn looked up at the swarm. It was so close that he could feel the breeze from the hundreds of wings rippling his clothes and hair. "That's okay, Rembrandt. I know it would've been great."

Then there was another noise that overshadowed the buzzing. It was the sound of an engine roaring down the street. Through the thick swarm, they caught sight of a multi-colored Volkswagen van that came skidding around the corner of the nearest intersection. It was covered with dents and holes, but still rattled along with amazing speed.

The van swerved around the cars on the street to come to a screetching halt beside Quinn, Arturo, Rembrandt, and Wade. The side door was flung open and a thin woman jumped out.

The woman was wearing metal plates all over her body as a form of homemade armor. She unhooked a pair of automatic weapons slung on her hips that Quinn recognized as Uzi submachine guns. The woman aimed the Uzis at the oncoming swarm and pulled the triggers.

Her guns spat bullets into the air, cutting through the swarm like a knife. Spiderwasps fell by the hundreds, but were replaced by hundreds more. Those left behind broke formation as they scrambled to avoid the deadly hail.

"Get in the van!" the woman yelled. "Move it, move it!"

They needed no encouragement. Rembrandt, Quinn, Wade, and Arturo dashed for the van, leaping into the safety of the rear. They found themselves in a dark cavernous place, the windows covered with thick metal plates welded to the inside of the walls. A large assortment of objects were littered on the floor of the van, from a tattered Punisher comic book to a Cabbage Patch doll with a torn dress. There was also the carcass of a small rabbit hanging from straps on the wall.

Through the front windshield, they could see the woman was still shooting, cutting away more and more spiderwasps. When the swarm was thoroughly in disarray, the woman made a mad dash for the van. She jumped behind the wheel, slammed the door, shifted the van into drive, and hit the gas.

Arturo screamed as they plowed into the swarm of spiderwasps. Carcasses danced off the glass as they rolled through them. Then the windshield was clear, and the van was driving through clean air again, down an adjoining road.

"Wow," Wade breathed. "That was like a scene out of Terminator 2."

The woman behind the wheel calmly hit a switch that turned on the windshield wipers to sweep away the bugs caking the glass. "Okay, folks, you mind telling me why you were out here with no protection whatsoever?"

Arturo glanced at the others, then said, "Uh, we're not from around here. We didn't know what to expect."

"Oh, yeah?" the woman asked. "Exactly where were you from that you didn't know about the bugs? Australia?"

"Uh, no," Quinn said. "We're from another dimension."

The woman burst into frenzied laughter, then unhooked the clasp on her helmet. She pulled it off, exposing a long braid of red hair.

"Well, that's a good one, all right," the woman said. "Another dimension. That's one for the books."

"Yeah," Quinn sighed. No one ever believed them when they told the truth, which made him wonder why they ever bothered to tell it.

Wade looked around the interior of the van. "Hey, who are you, anyway?"

"Catherine Baker," the woman said, turning a corner. "Everybody calls me Kat. That's because they say I gotta have nine lives to survive on the outside."

"What're you doing out here, anyway?"

Kat shrugged. "I can't stand living in the bunkers 24 hours a day. Need the excitement. Besides, somebody's gotta check for survivors out here. So I told you my name. What's yours?"

"Oh, Wade Wells. This is Quinn Mallory, Rembrandt Brown, and Professor Maximillian Arturo."

Kat raised her eyebrows at them in the rear-view mirror. "Rembrandt. Huh. That's interesting. And a professor? Professor of what?"

"Uh, physics," Arturo said. "Specifically Cosmology. I teach classes at California University."

"You mean you used to teach classes," Kat said. "C.U.'s been closed for months now."

"Uh, yes, of course." Arturo gave Quinn a resigned shrug.

"So, really, where are you guys from? You just get off a boat from Australia or what?"

"Uh, yes," Arturo said. "That's right."

"And you think you can stand in the middle of bug-country wearing nothing but cloth? Man, it must be nice out there in the Outback without the bugs around."

"Uh, yes, it is. Where are you taking us?"

"To the nearest bunker," Kat said. "We call it Harkinville. It's the safest place around, unless you wanna spend the night out here."

"No way," Rembrandt said. "Harkinville sounds fine to me."

"Then away we go. Uh-oh, here we go again."

They drove into a cloud of more spiderwasps that converged on the van with an angry buzzing noise. They could all hear the banging and thuds on the walls of the van, as well as a low crunching noise. Quinn realized with a shudder that it was chewing.

"Relax, folks," Kat said. "I just replaced the armor on this thing last week. Should last for another two days before it needs to be replaced."

"That's a relief," Rembrandt said in an unsteady voice.

Wade leaned closer to Kat. "Hey, you mind if I ask a question? Why do you live here? Why don't you move someplace without any spiderwasps?"

Kat burst into another bout of laughter. "Without the bugs? Lady, I can't afford the plane fare to Australia, and there is nowhere else. Don't you watch the news? The bugs are everywhere but there."

Arturo leaned closer to the others and whispered, "I assume, in this world, the spiderwasps expanded far more rapidly than I would have estimated. They must have spread all over the world, except for Australia."

"Great," Rembrandt whispered, looking up at the chewing noises on the ceiling above him. "I said it before, and I'll say it again, I hate spiders."

"Here we are," Kat called out. "Home sweet home."

They could see they were approaching a large dome, what looking like a football stadium covered with a thick layer of pitted concrete. Quinn guessed that was exactly what it was. Spiderwasps carpetted the sides of the dome, their wings fluttering. The sounds of their chewing was audible even inside the van.

The only opening in the dome was a massive iron door that faced the street. Kat pushed a button on her dashboard that caused the door to swing open, letting her drive the van inside a dark room. The door closed behind them with a deep thud, cutting short the buzzing of the outside.

"Thank goodness," Rembrandt said. "Safe at last."

He reached for the door.

Kat stopped him with a hand around his wrist. "Wait a minute. We gotta decontaminate first."

The room they were in lit up with an angry red light. Quinn could see that bars were mounted on all the walls, glowing red-hot. The interior of the van became incredibly hot in a few seconds.

Just as Quinn was about to ask what was going on, a spiderwasp landed on the van's hood. Then another. And another. They were falling all around them. When the clattering fell silent, Kat pushed another button on her dashboard. The bars cooled off again, and the red light was replaced by the pleasant white light of a bulb on the ceiling.

"Okay," Kat said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Go for it."

Rembrandt cautiously pulled the door open. He looked down at the floor which was littered with spiderwasps. Their bodies were black and shrivelled, giving off light wisps of smoke.

"Hey, not bad," Rembrandt said with a grin. "Kentucky Fried Spiderwasps."

Kat stepped out of the driver's side and began picking up the dead bodies. "Yup. We'll be eatin' well tonight."

Rembrandt's smile collapsed. "What?"

Kat grinned up at him as she tucked the crackling insects into a sack. "Hey, we gotta get our protein somehow. I dunno what it's like in Australia, but out here, it's catch as catch can."

Kat passed the others who were climbing out of the back of the van to gather the trinkets that littered the floor. She tucked them into her sack with the spiderwasps. When she unstrapped the rabbit, she held it up for inspection with a grimace.

"Pretty slim pickings these days," Kat said. "I hope Ezra can spice it up. Okay, let's roll."

Kat led them to a large iron door on the other side of the room. She unlocked it with a key around her neck, then swung the door wide.

Guns shoved themselves into her path.

"Halt!" a voice barked. "Who goes there?"

"It's just me," Kat said.

"What's the password?"

"Oh, man, I have it written down somewhere..." Kat fished through her pockets until she found a ragged slip of paper. "Oh, yeah, uh, 'Limburger.'"

The guns retreated. "Welcome home, Kat."

Kat grinned at Quinn, then walked through the door. He swallowed a lump in his throat, then followed.

The interior of the bunker was huge, but disorderly. A few lightbulbs cast a dim glow over the collection of lean-tos, tents, and cubicles set up as living quarters in every available space. Men, women, and children in haggard clothes shuffled from one place to another. Some were gathered around a woman playing a song on a guitar. Other were gathered around a flickering TV set.

But more were hauling sandbags, planks of wood, and steel plates to the walls. Men were there, suspended from ropes and pulleys, hammering the items brought to them onto the walls. The noise wasn't enough to drown out the almost deafening sounds of chewing that came from everywhere.

"Good lord," Arturo whispered. "You live here?"

"Yep," Kat said. "For now, anyway. We're all hoping we can hold out for a few more days, but we're not so sure. We're running out of stuff to nail the walls to keep out the bugs. Pretty soon, they'll be able to chew right through it, and then..."

Kat broke off to grin at a canary hanging beside the door. "That's why we got these little beauties. Somehow, they can sense the presence of the bugs. When they start making a racket, we know they've broken through."

Two men in armor stood by the door, armed with guns. One of them grinned at Kat.

"Hopefully that won't be too soon," he said. "You bring anything?"

Kat began digging through her sack. "Yep, I found an old toy store that was jammed with stuff. Dolls, comics, toys..."

The guard whistled. "Well, that'll fetch a high price on the market."

"Market?" Arturo asked.

Kat looked at him. "Yeah. Money's no good here anymore. Who needs gold when the world's one big bee's nest? The only thing left of value are these things. Stuff from the outside world. It makes things feel...more like home."

The second guard peered into the bag. "Hmm...I'll trade you a lava lamp for three of those comic books."

Kat grinned. "You think I'm stupid, Chuck? These babies are worth a fortune. I could get a candy bar, two books, and a barbell for one of these. You're gonna have to wait for the auction, just like everybody else."

"Nuts," the guard muttered.

The first guard peeked into her bag. "You bring back any meat?"

"Yup," Kat said, "a rabbit."

"That's it?"

Kat shrugged. "It's all I could get before the swarm hit. Had to save these four, too."

The guards cast a wary gaze onto Quinn and his friends.

"Hey," Chuck said, "I don't recognize 'em. Who are you guys, anyway?"

"Ah," Arturo said, glancing down at the man's gun, "allow me to introduce myself. Maximillian Arturo, at your service."

"He's a physics professor," Kat whispered.

The guard grunted. "Great. What we need is a chemist. How about the rest of you?"

"I'm Quinn," Quinn said, "and this is Wade and Rembrandt."

"They're from Australia," Kat said.

The guards lit up.

"Hey, yeah?" Chuck asked. "Hey, how's the fightin' goin' down there?"

"Oh," Arturo said, propping up a weak smile, "uh...same as usual, I'd say. Wouldn't you?"

Quinn nodded. "Oh, yeah. Still...fighting."

The guards nodded with approval.

"Yeah," Chuck said. "Boy, I'd like to be there myself. Crouched on the Outback, kicking some abdomen, instead of stuck out here, waitin' for the bugs to chew their way in."

"Hey, don't knock it." Kat shoved her sack into the guard's hands. "At least we're safe. And the bugs don't taste too bad with a little salt."

The guards made faces, then tossed her sack full of insect bodies into a corner.

Kat gestured to Quinn. "Come on. I bet Harkins'll wanna meet you guys."

She led them to a large red door nearby, but Rembrandt stopped beside the TV set playing.

"Hey, guys," Rembrandt said, "check this out."

The others stopped to watch a news report on the TV. It was the same woman they had seen last time warning them of the spiderwasps, but this time she was against a background that displayed a graphic that read "Spiderwasp Watch: The Infestation Continues."

"...and the spiderwasp infestation continues to spread," the woman was saying, "as new pesticides remain ineffective against the swarm, leaving only brute force as an alternative."

The woman was replaced by newsfootage of soldiers crouched behind barriers, machine guns blazing into the air at a swarm of spiderwasps that weaved above them.

"The war in Australia continued," the woman said, "with forces pushed back as far as Sydney. President Schwartzkopf issued a statement that the retreat was merely a chance to rearm the troops, and not an admission of defeat."

Quinn's eyes widened as the footage changed to Norman Schwarzkopf standing behind a podium with the presidential seal on it.

"I have said it before," the man was saying, "and I will say it again. We will not surrender to the spiderwasps under any circumstances. The time has come to take back our planet from these creatures that have plagued us for too long. I promise you that I will make the world safe for humanity once again."

"Yeah, right," Kat muttered. "I've heard that one before."

"President Schwarzkopf?" Rembrandt asked. "I thought the president of this world was Oliver North."

Kat gave him a curious glance. "Where have you been? He was killed during his visit to San Francisco. The spiderwasps came in during his speech, wiped out the whole cabinet. Good thing Vice-President Schwarzkopf was there to save the day. Or so we thought."

Quinn shook his head at the thought that General Schwarzkopf, an army hero on his own world, was running the country in this one.

Kat led them to the red door. "Come on. This elevator'll take us to the lower levels."

Quinn, Rembrandt, and Arturo followed her to the door, but stopped when they realized Wade wasn't with them. Quinn looked back to see she was staring at a group of people huddled in a corner.

"Wade?" he asked. "Come on, let's go..."

"Quinn," Wade whispered. "Look at those people over there."

Quinn did. They just looked like a bunch of scruffy people to him. "What about them?"

"Look at their clothes. They're tie-dyed."

Quinn realized she was right. And they were beads around their necks. And sunglasses. And listening to New Age music. The walls in their corner were painted in psychedelic colors.

The people in the corner looked up at Wade. Their jaws fell.

One of them, a thin teenager with blond hair and wearing sunglasses, dropped to his knees. He raised his trembling hands into the air.

"They've returned, man," he gasped. "The prophets have returned!"

"Good lord," Arturo whispered. "What are they talking about?"

Rembrandt looked sick. "Oh, no. It can't be."

"It is," Wade said. "It is."

Arturo looked from one face to another. "Would someone please tell me what's going on?"

Wade looked at him. "Don't you see? This isn't the spiderwasp world. This is the world where the 60's took place in the 90's."

Arturo looked sick. "Ah, yes. That world."

Quinn wasn't surprised at his reaction. Shortly after jumping out the spiderwasp Earth, they had landed in a world fighting a Vietnam-like war in Australia. In response, the youth of America had spawned the hippie movement thirty years later than in Quinn's dimension. It was like travelling back in time, and Arturo had hated every minute of it.

"But that's impossible," Rembrandt said. "If we doubled back on the world of the 60's, then how come it's filled with spiderwasps?"

Quinn looked at Arturo, who took on a horrified expression. "Wait a moment," Arturo said. "You don't suppose..."

"What?" Wade asked. "What are you talking about?"

"When the professor and I landed," Quinn said in a dead voice, "the professor had a spiderwasp on his back."

"But you killed it," Arturo insisted. "I saw the body."

"I know," Quinn said, "but suppose more than one came through with us."

"Good heavens." Arturo cupped his hand over his mouth. "That means..."

"Exactly."

Quinn looked at the TV, still showing footage of soldiers dying on a battlefield speckled with flying insects. He looked around them at the desolate, miserable people wandering the bunker. Everything he saw drove knives into his gut because of the knowledge of what they had done.

"This is all our fault," Quinn whispered.

CHAPTER THREE

Quinn was just staring at the wall of the elevator, listening to the hum of the motors, watching his reflection on the door twist and distort with his movements.

Wade watched him with a heavy heart. She could only imagine what he was thinking. Probably something close to what she was thinking.

It was all their fault. It was hard to imagine. Wade tried to tell herself that perhaps the Venezuelan scientists had created the spiderwasps in this world, too, but it seemed too big a coincedence that they should strike shortly after her arrival. Which meant they had brought them here.

Wade rested her hand on Quinn's shoulder, but he didn't seem to be aware of it. "Hey, Quinn, it's cool. It's not our fault."

"Yes, it is," Quinn droned in a low voice.

"No, it's not. We didn't do it on purpose."

For the first time since their discovery, Quinn looked down at her, but it was with a mixture of anger and amazement. "You think these people care whether we did it on purpose? It doesn't matter. The result is the same. We destroyed their world."

"But..."

Quinn turned away. "Just leave me alone."

Wade was going to press the point, then relented. It was no use. Quinn was inconsolable.

She felt horrible. She knew Quinn blamed himself for getting them all into this mess, but Wade put the blame squarely on her own shoulders. It was her idea to use the bridge before Quinn could test it properly. He had tried to warn her of the unpredictability, but she hadn't listened. She just thought it would be "cool." Now they were trapped. If anyone was to blame, it was her.

Wade sighed, wondering why she had done it. Probably because she was bored. The life of a salesclerk in a computer store wasn't exactly packed with excitement. The idea of going to another world seemed irresistable. Maybe she had hoped to find a world where she was important, a somebody. They had gone to a world where she was the leader of a resistance movement against a Communist American government, but it hardly made up for everything they had gone through.

It pained her to see Quinn like this. The honest truth was that she loved him, not as a friend, and she hoped he loved her, too. They had kissed once, but they hadn't been able to follow up on their feelings towards each other. When you're running from an angry mob of cowboys or Martians, there isn't much room for sentimentality.

Wade wanted to go home, if for nothing else then so they could stop running. They needed time to talk, to explore their relationship, maybe even fall in love. Instead, they were just jumping from one world to the next. Wade was very, very tired.

The elevator came to a jolting halt. The doors slid open and Kat charged out into a long corridor. Wade let Arturo and Rembrandt go ahead, then waited for Quinn. He lurched ahead of her like a zombie, ignorant of his surroundings.

Wade sighed again. Somehow, she didn't think they were going to have time to talk about their relationship.

They followed Kat down a dank corridor into another chamber similar to the first. More people moved about, although the walls weren't as heavily reinforced. In the distance, Wade thought she could see a greenhouse of some sort that glowed with pale light.

"Man, you're all set up down here, ain't you?" Rembrandt asked.

"We didn't do all of it," Kat said. "This place used to be a football stadium, but it's sitting on a World War II fallout shelter. We use down here as the living quarters, and the shelter below us as a storage facility. We spruced it all up as best we could, but it was Dr. Harkins who brought it all together."

"Harkins?" Arturo asked.

Kat nodded as they approached a large glass door. "He's the mayor of Harkinville. He brought us all together, organized us, made us what we are."

She knocked three times on the door. After a moment, a voice called out, "Come in."

Kat threw open the door and moved aside to let the others enter.

The office was filled with spiderwasps. It took a moment for Wade to realize they were dead. Most of them were mounted on spikes that were set up on the filing cabinets that littered the room. Others were cut open, their exposed organs bristling with needles jammed into them. On the walls, hand-drawn diagrams of every aspect of the spiderwasps were displayed. Only a small desk, a battered chair, and a cast-iron safe shoved in a corner broke the grisly decor.

Rembrandt shook his head with a queasy expression. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

A thin man wearing glasses was seated behind his desk. He was cutting open a spiderwasp with a scalpel, but looked up at the newcomers entering his office with a broad smile.

"Aha!" the man said. "These spiderwasps are hermaphroditic, possessing both male and female sex organs. They are capable of impregnating themselves at will, and give birth to over one hundred spiderwasp larvae only a few hours later. That, added with my recent discovery that their larvae reach full maturity within twenty-four hours, explains how they were able to spread so rapidly. These are a significant mutation from the original strain."

"That's great, Dr. Harkins," Kat said, "but we got company."

The man put down his scalpel and stood up. "Oh, hello. Pleased to meet you. I'm Dr. Stephen Harkins, mayor of Harkinville. And you are..."

Kat made the introductions. "Quinn, Arturo, Rembrandt, and Wade. They're from Australia."

But Harkins didn't seem to hear her. He was staring at Rembrandt with a shocked expression. "Good lord. This is... your name is Rembrandt? Rembrandt Brown?"

Rembrandt grinned. "Yeah, you heard of me?"

"Of course."

Rembrandt flashed Arturo a grin. "Hey, looks like the Cryin' Man made a splash on this world, too."

Harkins pushed the button of an intercom on his desk. "Uh, Sergeant, would you come in here, please? I'd like you to see something."

Harkins released the intercom and continued to stare at Rembrandt.

Arturo leaned forward. "Uh, actually, we are not from Australia. As hard as this may be to believe, we are from another world."

Harkins broke his gaze to frown at him. "You're not hippies, are you?"

"Oh, no, of course not."

"Thank goodness. We have enough of those around here."

"Yes, we're from another dimension," Arturo said. "It's actually fairly complicated, but..."

The door opened. Arturo broke off his speech to look, then did a double-take.

Because Rembrandt Brown walked into the room. He was wearing a green military uniform, his cap tucked under one arm. The new Rembrandt was about to speak to Harkins when his gaze fell and locked on Rembrandt.

"Oh, man," Rembrandt said, "not again. Don't tell me you're a singer, too."

"No," the other Rembrandt said. "I'm a soldier. Sergeant Rembrandt Lee Brown of the United States Army. Who're you?"

"Rembrandt Lee Brown," Rembrandt said. "Of the United States Spinning Tops."

"Never heard of 'em," Sgt. Rembrandt said.

"Didn't think so." Rembrandt snapped his fingers, his eyes wide. "Wait a minute. I remember you. You're the one with the wife and kid!"

Sgt. Rembrandt stiffened at his words, his eyes narrowing.

Wade looked from one Rembrandt to the other. "What're you talking about?"

"Last time I was in this world," Rembrandt said, "it turned out I had a family. A wife and son, Rembrandt Jr. But the Rembrandt of this world was a soldier in Australia, declared MIA, missing in action. I walked in on my own funeral, then tried to take up where he left off. Unfortunately, they got a telegram the next morning that this world's Rembrandt was still alive, so I had to scoot."

Rembrandt clapped Sgt. Brown on the shoulder. "Hey, man, how's our family?"

Sgt. Brown knocked his hand away with one hand, then punched Rembrandt in the face with the other. Rembrandt crashed into a filing cabinet, knocked petrified spiderwasps to the floor.

Rembrandt lay in the debris, rubbing his aching jaw. "Hey, what's the big idea?"

Sgt. Brown's teeth were clenched as he growled, "My wife and son are dead."

Rembrandt stopped rubbing his jaw. "Say what?"

"They're dead," Sgt. Brown said. "They were killed in the first wave of the spiderwasp infestation. And the last thing they said to me was the story of a man who looked just like me tryiin' to steal them away. Now, I dunno how I got a double, but I know there's no way I've got two. So you're him."

Sgt. Brown pulled a gun out of a holster strapped to his hip. "And you're dead."

"Sergeant," Harkins yelled. "Stop this at once!"

Sgt. Brown was aiming his gun at Rembrandt, but froze at Harkins words. He glared at Rembrandt, then shoved the gun back into its holster.

Everyone breathed a little easier.

"Thank you," Harkins said. "Sgt. Brown is the security officer here in Harkinville. I'm sorry about his rather...unusual display of temper. He's usually quite efficient."

"That's okay," Rembrandt whispered. "I understand completely."

Harkins looked at Arturo. "You were saying something about ...another dimension?"

"Uh, yes," Arturo said. "It's...quite complicated. Are you familiar with the concept of parallel worlds?"

"Of course," Harkins said.

"Well, Mr. Mallory here perfected a way to cross over them. The point is that we are from another dimension where this never happened. And it's...sort of our fault that it did, you see, because several months ago, we slid out of a world infested with spiderwasps to here, and it seems that we brought them with us."

Harkins stared at him, then at Quinn, Wade, and Rembrandt. "I don't...quite understand what you're saying, and I'm not sure I believe it. But I do know that somehow we have four new mouths to feed, and that's not good."

Harkins sat down behind his desk. "I'm afraid we're not doing so well here in Harkinville. I was an entymologist before the infestation, one who specialized in cataloging new insect species from South America. When the first spiderwasp was discovered a few months ago, it was taken to me. I analyzed it and soon discovered it was extremely dangerous. I tried to warn people that if the spiderwasps managed to reproduce, they could destroy mankind. No one listened."

Harkins fiddled with the wings of a spiderwasp mounted on his desk near him. "At least, not until the first wave hit. Wiped out half of San Francisco in less than an hour. Spread to the rest of the state, then the country, then the world...I had prepared for this eventuality. I discovered that the spiderwasp could chew through steel, making any hiding place close to useless, but I discovered they chewed at a rate of a few inches a day. I developed the idea that if the walls of a building were thick enough, and continually reinforced, it would serve as protection against the spiderwasps."

Harkins folded his hands over the desk. "When the infestation hit, I managed to convince a small group to retreat into this football stadium. We reinforced the walls, built the heated airlock, and called it home. We created this place from nothing, but it's become one of the last pockets of humanity left in America."

Harkins stood up, leading them all out of the office. Sgt. Brown glared at Rembrandt as he passed.

After nodding to the citizens who passed him, Harkins pointed up to the roof. Wade could see the patchwork construction made of planks of wood, metal, and rubber. Some portions of the roof were thicker than others, and the crackling chewing noises of the spiderwasps echoed off the rafters.

"But things aren't going too well here," Harkins said. "The spiderwasps are even digging underground to get at us. There's only so much reinforcement we can do before the structural integrity of the building collapses."

Harkins gestured towards a greenhouse in the distance. "We couldn't bring in enough livestock to eat and breed, and we can't open windows for sunlight, so we exist mostly on a vegetarian diet of hydroponically-grown vegetables."

"Hydro-what?" Rembrandt asked.

"Hydroponics," Professor Arturo said. "It's the science of growing food in chemicals to replace soil."

"Yes," Harkins said. "That, coupled with UV-lamps and a quick-growing solution our resident chemist developed, provide us with enough food to live on. Any variety in our diet comes from small animals our friend Kat manages to bring in from the outside."

Harkins clapped Kat on the back as she grinned up at him. "Kat, here, has managed to survive outside the bunker longer than any of us."

"Just gotta know what you're doin'," Kat said.

"And you do." Harkins smile faded as he regarded Quinn. "But we're barely scraping by as it is, and I'm afraid we can't afford to lose more space and resources on four newcomers."

"You mean you're gonna throw us out?" Rembrandt asked.

"I'm afraid I have no choice," Harkins said. "Unless you can prove yourself useful..."

"We can," Arturo said. "There must be something you need."

Harkins turned grim as he clasped his hands behind his back. "Well...there is one. We've been working on solutions to our problem. One of them was to try to develop a pesticide that will have an effect on the spiderwasps. This was handled by our chemist, Dr. Goodwin, but he...was killed a few days ago by one of the spiderwasps he was experimenting on. It chewed through the container he kept it in."

"Ugh," Wade whispered.

"Exactly," Harkins said. "Although we have lost many of our people to the spiderwasps, this was worse. Dr. Goodwin felt he was close to a breakthrough, but his death put an end to the project. He worked alone, and none of us are capable of deciphering the notes he left behind. As a result, the dream of finally destroying the spiderwasps once and for all came to an end. Unless you feel you..."

"We can do it," Quinn said.

Wade looked up at him to see his eyes were narrowed with determination.

Harkins cleared his throat. "Now, do you really think you can..."

"We can do it," Quinn said. "We have to. We can only stay five days, but it's our fault this happened to your world, and we're going to make things right again."

Arturo cast a wide grin at Harkins. "Uh, if we may have a word alone for a moment..."

"Of course," Harkins said. "Sergeant, Kat, let's talk in my office."

The three of them headed into Harkins' office. Sgt. Brown was still fixing a cruel glare on Rembrandt as he closed the door behind them.

Rembrandt shook his head. "Man, I never realized what I scary dude I am."

Arturo whirled to face Quinn, his eyes blazing with anger. "Are you out of your mind? We can't make a pesticide."

"Why not?" Quinn asked.

"First of all, I am a physics professor, not a chemist."

"So? You made penicillin once."

"That is beside the point," Arturo said. "All I did was boil some moldy bread. This, on the other hand, is the creation of a deadly toxin. And has it occured to you that scientists all over the world are probably working on the same thing? Why on earth would we succeed where they have failed?"

"Because this guy Goodwin was doing it," Quinn said. "We've got a headstart. All we need to do is finish his work. Besides, it's the least we can do. I mean, how can you sit there and not volunteer to help? We caused all this."

"Precisely my point," Arturo said. "I've said it before and I'll say it again. We mustn't interfere with the worlds we encounter."

"But we already have," Wade said. "This is a chance to make up for what we've done, put things back the way they're supposed to be."

Arturo shook his head. "I disagree. I believe we've caused far too much damage already. I say we should just leave well enough alone."

Quinn glared at Rembrandt. "How about you? What do you say?"

Rembrandt shrugged. "Well, I think we should give it a shot. I mean, it's like you said, it's the least we can do. Besides, if we don't, they'll kick us out, and now that I'm warm and dry, I'm not goin' out in that mess again."

"Okay," Quinn said. "We'll vote. All those in favor of helping out, raise your hands."

Quinn, Wade, and Rembrandt raised their hands.

"Fine," Arturo murmured. "I've been outnumbered. But I will not participate in this endevour, and I stress that we must be very careful of this sort of thing in the future."

"Amen to that," Rembrandt said. "Let's go."

They went back into Harkins' office, where he was whispering with the sergeant. He broke into a smile as Quinn approached the desk.

"Well?" he asked.

"We'll do it," Quinn said. "Do you have Dr. Goodwin's notes?"

Harkins drew a set of keys out of his pocket. He used them to unlock a drawer on his desk. From within it, he drew a worn and tattered notebook which he set down on his desk. Quinn picked the notebook up and flipped through it.

Wade peeked over his shoulder to study the formulas inside. "Hm, doesn't look too hard to follow."

Quinn stared down at her. "How do you know?"

Wade grinned. "I got an 'A' in chemistry all through high school."

"Excellent," Arturo said. "With the three of you working on this perplexing problem, we should have it solved in no time."

Rembrandt raised a hand. "Uh, make that two of them. I skipped chemistry for my music classes. I wouldn't know a periodic table from a coffee table."

Arturo took hold of his lapels, striking an amused pose. "Well, I suppose that means you and I are free of drudgery."

"Don't you worry," Sgt. Brown snarled. "I'll find somethin' for you to do."

Rembrandt gave him a nervous look. "Uh, yeah, thanks."

Harkins grinned. "Well, then, I welcome you to the community of Harkinville. Sergeant, please show our guests around the bunker, and find them somewhere to sleep."

"Yes, sir," Sgt. Brown said.

Arturo raised a hand. "Oh, and, uh...would you be so kind as to point the way to a bathroom. Quickly."

****

Wade watched the other Rembrandt walking ahead of them in his military uniform, his back strong, his stride bold. It was almost a mirror-opposite to their own Rembrandt to whom Arturo used the term "coward." Wade preferred "pessimistic."

But even now, their own Rembrandt was looking around the bunker with wide-eyed fascination.

"Man," he said, "this place is set up. You guys built all this?"

"Yes," Sgt. Brown said. "It took us several weeks to renovate, but as you can see, it was worth it. We have everything we need here. Air is recycled with CO-2 scrubbers, and pumped through vents throughout the bunker. Water is also recycled through a purification system. We try to make sure that the only way in or out is through the main doors."

Rembrandt nodded. "Not bad. Not bad at all."

The sergeant ignored a few hippies mopping the floors, who shouted and waved at Wade and Rembrandt.

"The prophets!" they yelled. "The prophets have returned!"

Wade gave them a half-hearted wave in return, but couldn't suppress a wave of guilt.

Rembrandt came to a halt in front of a door marked "Laboratory. No Unauthorized Access." He unlocked the door with a key on his belt, then pushed it open.

The laboratory was filled with spiderwasps, but this time, they were alive. The spiderwasps were contained in bottles made of inch-thick glass, all lined up on shelves along the walls. They buzzed and attacked the glass over and over in obvious fury at their confinement. Wade barely noticed the long table covered with test tubes and beakers in the center of the room.

"These are the bugs Dr. Goodwin used for his experiments," Sgt. Brown said. "It's pretty dangerous keeping them in here since they can chew through the glass, but it takes a few days for them to get through. That's how long you have to work on them before they have to be destroyed."

Sgt. Brown swept his cold gaze over Wade and the others. "Goodwin waited too long. Let that be a warning to you."

"Loud and clear, too," Rembrandt said. "Good thing I ain't workin' in here."

The sergeant ignored him. "Professor, you'll be working in the hydroponic greenhouse. Mr. Brown, you'll be workin' on the reinforcement detail. Your job will be to help reinforce the walls of the bunker. You both start tomorrow. I suggest you get a good night's rest. If you can."

Sgt. Brown brushed past them back into the main room, where he led them to a long row of makeshift doors against a hastily-constructed wall.

The sergeant opened one of the doors to reveal a small room inside with a single bunk against the opposite wall. He stepped aside and folded his hands behind his back. "One of you will be sleeping here. We only have one private room available. The rest of you will have to slept in tents. Who's it gonna be?"

Quinn, Arturo, and Rembrandt exchanged glances, then unanimously pointed at Wade.

She grinned up at them. "Thanks, guys."

Sgt. Brown tossed her a key from his pocket. "The rest of you, follow me."

He led the others away at a brisk pace. Wade watched them go, then stepped cautiously into the private room. On her own Earth, it would have been called a broom closet, but at least it was private.

A golden cage hung from the ceiling in which a canary perched, looking up at her with a quizzical expression. Wade smiled and whistled softly at the bird.

"You gonna watch out for me tonight, little guy?" she whispered.

The canary only tilted its head in the other direction, watching her.

Wade carefully eased herself onto the bunk bed. The cloth felt vaguely greasy, but it was comfortable. After spending all day hiding in dumpsters and alleys in the last world, this place felt like heaven.

As she lay back on the bunk, she became aware of an everpresent crunching noise coming from the wall beside her. It was the sound of the spiderwasps chewing day and night. Wade tried not to imagine them clinging to the walls, their pincer-like jaws biting away chunks of concrete and steel in an endless quest to penetrate the stronghold. Hours later, she managed to fall into an uneasy slumber, but the spiderwasps were in her dreams.

****

Sgt. Brown led the others through the main hall to a row of tents at the other end, but Rembrandt was still griping.

"Why does she get the private room?" Rembrandt asked.

"Because she's a lady, Mr. Brown," Arturo said, walking with his hands folded behind his back.

"Well, I'm gettin' a little tired of all this ladies' first stuff. How 'bout you, Q-Ball?"

Quinn winced at being drawn into the conversation. He didn't care about any of it, only the notes on the pages of the book he was reading, but managed a vague, "I dunno."

Rembrandt frowned. "Hey, you okay?"

Quinn turned the page in the notebook. "Yeah, I'm just...preoccupied."

Arturo peeked over his shoulder. "Anything so far?"

"Yeah," Quinn said. "I think Goodwin was developing a variation of DDT. The guy was a genius."

"Not to mention sloppy," Arturo said. "You must take care to exercise every precaution in handling the spiderwasps."

"I'm just glad you guys are in the room with them," Rembrandt said. "The farther away from them I am, the happier I'll be."

Sgt. Brown stopped at a large cluster of tents built into a corner of the chamber. A group of children ran among the shantytown, laughing and playing, but Sgt. Brown ignored them.

"There should be three empty tents," Sgt. Brown said. "You'll each get a flashlight, but it's lights out in five minutes. No one is allowed out of their rooms after that, so get anything you want done now. I would like you all to remember that you're one of us now. We have rules and you will obey them. Goodnight, Professor, Mallory..."

Sgt. Brown latched onto Rembrandt with a cold glare, then barged past him without a word.

"Man," Quinn said, "that guy's got a chip on his shoulder."

"Yeah," Rembrandt said. "And he's just waitin' for me to knock it off."

"What's his problem, anyway?"

"Well, I can only imagine. I mean, the guy comes home after years of fighting in a foreign land to his loving family, only to have them die a few days later. That's enough to put an edge on anybody. I'll see if I can have a chat with him tomorrow, though. After all, we're the same guy. Can't see why we can't work out our differences like civilized people. So...who gets what tent?"

They divided up the tents with a coin toss. Other members of the underground society were already climbing into their tents as Quinn, Rembrandt, and Arturo crawled into theirs.

Quinn eased himself onto his bunk with a sigh. "Oh, man, this is heaven."

"Indeed," Arturo called out from another tent. "I greatly prefer this to our previous domicile, the trash bin."

"You can say that again," Rembrandt called out. "Set the alarm for ten tomorrow, 'cause you couldn't drag me out of bed before then."

"I say," Arturo called out. "That reminds me. Mr. Mallory, what about the timer? Is it in working condition?"

Quinn pulled the timer out of his pocket and ran it through a diagnostic check with a push of a button. When the screen flashed, Quinn said, "Seems to be okay. I think we just shorted it out when we tried to open the gateway early. I warned you guys that might happen."

"Okay, okay," Rembrandt said. "No need to rub it in. Night, guys."

"'Night, Rembrandt," Quinn called out. "'Night, Professor."

"Goodnight, dear boy," Arturo called back. "Sleep well."

Quinn leaned back on his bunk. In the pale light filtering through the walls of his tent, he went back to examining Dr. Goodwin's notebook. It was filled with chemical formulas, most of which he didn't understand, but with Wade's help, he was sure he could muddle through it somehow.

They had to. Quinn couldn't leave this world without correcting the damage they had done. Bad enough he had destroyed three lives with his sliding technology. He couldn't live with any more suffering on his conscience. And he knew that if that meant staying behind while the others moved on to the next world...then that was what he had to do.

An alarm sounded, then the lights went off with a snap. Quinn folded a dog-ear into the page he was on, and tucked the notebook under his bed. He lay back with a sigh.

He could still hear the crackling of the spiderwasps all around him. He wondered if the people in Harkinville ever got used to it. He had assumed they did, but suppose they hadn't? Suppose they lived, day after day, with the everpresent knowledge of the fragility of their surroundings? The knowledge that, at any moment, a horde of monstrous creatures could come rushing in, and there would be no way of stopping them?

As he drifted off to sleep, Quinn could easily imagine something like that driving a man insane.

****

Sgt. Brown walked through the dark shadows of the bunker, glancing around for violators of the curfew. There were none, of course, other than the guards posted along the walls and doors. No one dared violate his curfew, not after the first few times.

Sgt. Brown finally came to Dr. Harkins office. He walked in without knocking.

Harkins was sitting behind his desk, chewing on a thumbnail. He glanced up at the sergeant's approach, then went back to staring at his desk.

"This is bad," Harkins said. "This is very, very bad."

Sgt. Brown sat down on the edge of Harkins' desk, bending the wings of one of the petrified spiderwasps. "Relax. Everything's under control."

Harkins shot to his feet, his eyes blazing. "Under control? Are you insane? We have four newcomers. Four."

"We managed to bring the others in line. These four should be no trouble. Besides, you heard what they said. They're leavin' in four days."

"That's four days too long for me." Harkins began to pace behind the desk, then regarded the sergeant with caution. "You don't suppose they suspect anything about Goodwin, do you?"

Sgt. Brown picked up the spiderwasp, turning it over in his hands. "Why should they? No one else has."

"But they're going to be working in the lab, day after day. Surely some evidence..."

"There is no evidence." Sgt. Brown looked up from the spiderwasp to glare at Dr. Harkins. "I made sure of that. I did my job, you just do yours."

"They're going to find out," Harkins murmured. "They're going to find out, I know they will..."

Sgt. Rembrandt slammed the spiderwasp down. He grabbed Harkins by his tie and hauled him across the desk to lean inches from his face.

"Now you listen to me," Sgt. Brown whispered. "I have had it with your whimpering, and your cowardice, and your egomania, and your stupid philosophy. We have a deal. You run this place, I run the people. But don't you ever...ever think that you're irreplaceable. All it takes is one little accident like what happened to our dear Dr. Goodwin, and I can bring in someone else who can handle the job. You hear me, Steve?"

Harkins nodded quickly, his eyes wide.

Sgt. Brown released Harkins with a shove that propelled him back into his chair. Harkins looked up at him, shrinking in his chair.

Sgt. Brown picked up the spiderwasp again with a satisfied grin. "You know, I like havin' one o' these things in my hand, under my control."

He crushed the spiderwasp beneath his fingers with a grunt, then let the carcass fall to the ground. He stamped on it a few times until there was nothing left but crumbly powder on the floor, then straightened his tie.

"I oughtta get me one o' those," Rembrandt said, then walked out of the office, back into the darkness.

CHAPTER FOUR

Quinn awoke to the frenzied blaring of a siren. He winced and rolled over, murmuring to his mother that he would be up in a minute. Then he remembered where they were, as well as the fact that he was on a very small cot. Too late. He toppled over onto the hard concrete floor and landed with a painful thump.

As he lay there, groaning, the flap of the tent opened and Rembrandt stuck his head in. He looked down at Quinn with a wide smile.

"Rise and shine, Q-Ball," he said. "It's a brand-new day."

Then, with a rustle of the cloth, he was gone.

Quinn grit his teeth. If there was one thing he missed most while sliding through parallel worlds, it was a good night's sleep.

****

It turned out that everyone in the bunker ate at a communal cafeteria. Quinn, Arturo, Wade, and Rembrandt followed the crowds to an area seperated from the rest of the bunker by curtains. Inside was a scattering of tables alongside a long counter, behind which stood a grim-faced old woman. Laughter and conversation filled the air, along with the fragrance of exotic foods.

Quinn got in line with the others who shuffled towards the counter. "Oh, man, what a night."

"Indeed," Arturo murmured. "I hardly slept a wink with that infernal chewing all night."

"Hey, you guys are lucky," Wade said. "I'm right next to the wall."

Rembrandt made a big show of stretching. "Yeah, well, I slept like a baby. Guess I'm used to a lotta noise."

"I'm sure you are," Arturo said. "You snored all night long."

Rembrandt's grin faded. "Hey, the Cryin' Man doesn't snore. He makes...night music."

"Yeah?" Quinn said. "Well, you were makin' night music like a buzzsaw until three A.M."

They took trays from a stack at the end of the counter, then moved in front of a large assortment of vegetables in bins.

Arturo regarded a spoonful of broccoli with distaste before dropping it onto his tray. "As if the spiderwasps weren't punishment enough."

Wade took a handful of carrot sticks with enthusiasm. "Hey, vegetarianism isn't so bad. I tried it a while back. It's really good for you. Gives you lots of...energy and vitality." She punched the air with her fists.

"Whatever you say," Quinn muttered. "All I know is I'd kill for a cheeseburger right now."

Arturo plunged a spoon into a bin full of a crunchy black paste. "And what is this monstrosity? Resembles some form of...burned peanut butter."

He sucked some of the paste off the spoon, then nodded as he chewed the mouthful. "Mm...not bad. A slightly nutty flavor with just a hint of chicken. With some white wine, perhaps a slice of brie, I daresay I could get used to this." He began spooning more onto his plate.

A man in grey overalls behind the counter grinned at him. "Hey, thanks, man. Not many of the citizens here like bug-butter as much as you do."

Arturo froze. "My good man, did you say...bug-butter?"

"Yeah. That's what we call crushed spiderwasps."

Arturo coughed explosively, spitting mouthfuls of the paste back onto the floor.

The man in overalls walked away. "I'll save you an extra helping next time."

Arturo scraped the rest of the paste off his plate, then trudged off murmuring, "Barbarians. Pure barbarians."

The line was approaching an old woman in a hair-net stirring a pot of boiling soup. She filled plastic bowls with the soup, then handed them to people passing by with a methodical pace.

Quinn frowned as they shuffled closer to her. "Hey...she looks familiar."

Arturo squinted at her as he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. "Yes, indeed, she does look oddly..."

Quinn stopped short in his tracks, holding out his hand to block the others. "Oh, no...that's our landlady. Remember? Last time we were here? The one who turned us in to the government when we rented an apartment from her?"

Arturo's face turned even paler than it already was. "Oh, dear. Quickly. I suggest we hide..."

But it was too late. The old woman looked up at Quinn, her wrinkled face twisting in anger.

"Hey," she said, "I remember you. You're those two sicko Commie hippie freaks!"

The rest of the cafeteria went silent as hundreds of eyes turned to see the source of the commotion.

Arturo held up his hands in a pleasant gesture. "Uh, madame, I assure you..."

The woman shook her spoon at him, flicking droplets of soup onto Arturo's jacket. "Don't gimme that! I can spot a Commie a mile away! I bet you're behind this whole spiderwasp invasion! I knew the Russkies were behind it! You guys engineered these bugs to wipe out the American way! Well, you're not gonna get away with it. Help! Police!"

Sgt. Brown pushed his way through the crowds to the line, unbuckling the baton strapped to his hip. "Okay, Mrs. Tweek, what is it now?"

"I found some Commies," she said triumphantly.

Sgt. Brown's expression was dead as he asked, "Again? That's the third time this week, isn't it?"

Her face fell. "Well...yes, but this time I'm sure of it. It's those two." She pointed at Quinn and Arturo with a trembling finger.

Sgt. Brown regarded them with a glance, then said, "Mrs. Tweek, the Commies of which you speak are the new chemists. They're gonna make the pesticide that'll save us all from an agonizing death. But if you think I should arrest them, I'll be glad to do so, at which time you can lie in bed waitin' for the bugs to come through your wall."

Sgt. Brown reached for Quinn's arm.

"Uh," Mrs. Tweek said, "I could be mistaken...just this once. But I'd still keep an eye on ‘em."

Sgt. Brown released Quinn's arm with a nod. "A wise decision, Mrs. Tweek. Have a nice day."

Quinn took a cup of soup from the woman, then grinned at the sergeant. "Thanks."

Sgt. Brown regarded Quinn with dead eyes. "No problem. That's my job."

Quinn picked up a package of crackers of the counter as he said, "Had trouble sleeping last night. How do you get used to all that chewing?"

"I don't," Sgt. Brown said. "None of us do. We lie awake for hours, listening for the crackling pop that tells us the bugs have made it through, listening for the canaries that go wild with fear, listening for the buzzing that draws closer and closer until we feel them puncturing our skin. Then we wake up screaming. Welcome to the family."

Sgt. Brown walked away, twirling his baton on a finger.

Wade whistled softly. "Boy, that guy's really creepy."

"Hey," Rembrandt said, "don't talk like that about me. He and I are flesh and blood."

"Oh, come on, Rembrandt," Quinn said. "That guy's nothing like you."

Rembrandt placed a bowl of soup on his tray, avoiding Mrs. Tweek's glare. "Well, he could be. I once thought about joining the army in the 60's. You know, fightin' with our boys in Vietnam. But then my singing career took off, so I ditched the idea. Maybe that guy's what I would've turned into if I hadn't."

Wade patted his arm. "Well, in that case, we're all very glad you did."

Rembrandt grinned and extended his arm. "Why, thank you, little lady. As the professor would say, shall we adjourn to our table?"

Wade performed an exagerrated curtsy, holding the hem of an imaginary dress. "Delighted." She took his arm and strolled off towards one of the tables.

Quinn and Arturo exchanged a tired glance, then followed.

They never noticed the small group of hippies in a corner of the cafeteria. Though new age music played on a stereo nearby, the hippies didn't seem to notice as they watched Wade pass by with a cruel, vicious glare.

****

After breakfast, Quinn and Wade went to the laboratory while Arturo headed for the greenhouse, and Rembrandt headed off to figure out what "reinforcement detail" was. His double, Sgt. Rembrandt Brown, was only too happy to show him.

Sgt. Brown led Rembrandt to the upper floor, where everyone was busy at the walls. The endless thump and bang of hammers was almost deafening as Sgt. Brown pointed to a bare section of wall.

"Your job," he said over the noise, "is simple. Nail as much stuff to these walls as you can as fast as you can. Plastic, wood, metal, whatever these people give you."

He gestured towards a group of men and women dragging material over to the walls from stacks in a corner. Rembrandt couldn't help noticing how small the piles were. Sgt. Brown then pointed out another group moving slowly along the walls, waving what looked like geiger counters over exposed portions.

"They have the assignment of testing for weak points in the walls," Sgt. Brown said. "Your job will be to repair those, too. Think you can handle that?"

Rembrandt brushed off his lapels. "No problem. The Cryin' Man ain't afraid of a little hard work. Used to help out the roadies on tour all the time."

"Whatever," Sgt. Brown said. "Get to it."

He trudged off.

Rembrandt watched him go. He did seem a little tense, more hostile than Rembrandt could ever imagine himself being. But they were the same person. They couldn't be that different.

Could they?

Rembrandt shivered. This alternate reality stuff always gave him the willies. He supposed he was gonna have to get used to the idea of running into himself a lot. It was a little disorienting, but it wasn't all bad. He had gotten to sing a duet with himself once.

Rembrandt adjusted his coat, then wandered over to one of the men nailing a wooden plank to the wall. He had to shout over his banging. "Excuse me. I just got put on detail. Can I lend a hand?"

The man stopped hammering and waved his hammer at a stack of wood nearby. "Sure. Start working on the space above me. And we gotta hurry. The scanners say this patch is so thin, it could go any minute."

Rembrandt's grin faded. "Uh, when you say 'go,' you mean..."

"The bugs," the man said. "They'll come right through. And we'll be the first to buy it. Hope you got your insurance paid up."

The man went back to hammering.

Rembrandt swallowed as he selected a hammer and some nails from a box on the floor. He muscled a plank of wood against a section of the wall, lined it up, then began to pound.

"I hate spiders," he said.

****

Quinn and Wade opened the door of the laboratory, to be wafted with the odor of disinfectant, and the deafening buzzing and cracking of the encaged spiderwasps.

Quinn covered his ears as he winced. "How could Dr. Goodwin stand this?"

"I know," Wade said. "I've been here less than a day, and already these things are driving me nuts."

"I guess he did it for the common good," Quinn said. "Which is why we're gonna do it. Come on."

They found lab coats hanging in a closet, as well as a generous supply of rubber gloves, face masks, and surgical tools. When they were dressed, Quinn began thumbing through Goodwin's notebook.

"He left a list of safety procedures," Quinn said. "It's twenty pages long. I guess he believed in being thorough."

Quinn moved down the shelves of spiderwasps, trying to ignore the fact that they became more frenzied as he passed. "Okay, first order of business is to make sure all the spiderwasps are here. That doesn't seem to be a problem."

"Yeah," Wade murmured. "I'd prefer a few empty jars myself."

Quinn moved to the counter of chemical solutions and scientific equipment. "Well, I guess the next thing we should do is try to retrace Dr. Goodwin's steps, figure out the direction he was going. There should be a collection of samples somewhere in here of his previous experiments..."

Wade began opening drawers until she came to one on the filing cabinet which was filled with tiny bottles. "Like these?"

Quinn checked the bottles and nodded. "Great. Then I guess we should get to work."

Wade spread her arms. "Yep. Get to work."

They stared at the equipment on the desk, then looked back at the bottles, and finally looked around at the spiderwasps around them.

"Wade," Quinn said, "do you have any idea how we're gonna do this?"

"Nope," Wade said.

Quinn nodded as he snapped on a pair of rubber gloves. "This is gonna be a long day."

****

Arturo approached the greenhouse with a sense of dread. He had never been very good with plants or any other living things, for that matter. For proof, all you needed to do was ask his ex-wife.

The door of the greenhouse was open, revealing a vast chamber of glassed walls. Other than a soft gurgling noise, it was remarkably quiet. Arturo walked among rows of plants floating in a milky solution, basking in the light of UV-lamps hanging over them. Arturo bent down to study them, cast in the bluish light. The plants were in remarkably good condition.

"Fantastic," he murmured.

"Aren't they?" a voice asked behind him.

Arturo jumped up to see a large woman standing behind him, grinning.

"It's a good crop, if I do say so myself," the woman said.

Arturo pressed a hand over his chest. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I...I didn't expect anyone here. That is...I did, but...not quite so soon."

"Ah, don't worry about it," the woman said. "I know the feeling. The bugs can put you on edge sometimes. My name's Mary, I run the greenhouse. I assume you're Maximillian Arturo, the one the sergeant sent down to help out."

"Uh, yes, I'm afraid I have that honor."

Mary grinned and thrust out a pair of leather gloves. "Welcome aboard."

"Thank you." Arturo began pulling the gloves onto his hands. "Uh, I believe it would be only fair to warn you that I've never been very good with plants."

"That's okay. Neither have I. But this place pretty much runs itself. The chemical mix and lighting is all handled by computers. The temperature is self-regulating..."

Mary glanced back at the open door and sagged. "...as long as people don't keep leaving the door unlocked. Screws up the thermostats."

She strode over to the door, and closed it firmly. "Other than that, there's not much left to do except monitor the systems, check for aphids, and harvest the crops every now and then. Come on."

Mary led the way to a far corner of the greenhouse, where a computer console flashed with graphs and messages. "Over here is the monitoring station. This place is to be kept at seventy-four degrees at all times. The computer usually checks it, but if it goes above or below that, hit this button. It'll straighten itself out. Got that?"

Arturo nodded. "Quite."

"Good. And over here, this graph shows the insect population in here. Right now, it's zero. If it goes above that, hit this button. It'll pinpoint the problem area on this map. You go over and give the plants in that section a spritz with this."

Mary unhooked a spray bottle on her belt and handed it to him. "Got that?"

"Quite," Arturo said.

"But the real job is over here." They reached a section of the greenhouse where an empty pool of the milky liquid waited. Mary brought his attention to a collection of small plants in pots. "We just got these in from the outside. Corn. I'd like you to transplant these into the solution. Make sure all the dirt is cleaned off the roots before you put them in. Got that?"

"Quite," Arturo repeated.

Mary nodded, clasping her hands over her lap. "Good. We're gonna get along just fine. Get to work."

"Just one question," Arturo said. "This...this system is incredible. Did you design it?"

Mary gave out a short bark of laughter. "Are you kidding? No. Dr. Harkins did it. He designed this whole place and everything in it. He's a genius. Saved all our lives, and don't you forget it."

"Of course," Arturo said, and got down on his knees beside the corn saplings.

Mary grinned as she sauntered away.

Arturo picked up the nearest sapling. He pulled it out of its pot, and began to clean the dirt off the roots with his trowel. For a moment, he glanced around at his surroundings. They were calm, peaceful, and above all, quiet. The thick glass blocked out the everpresent chewing of the spiderwasps.

Arturo couldn't suppress a grin. Maybe this gardening business wouldn't be so bad, after all.

****

Rembrandt pounded in the final nail, then stepped back to survey his work. It was crude, but effective, at least he hoped so.

Rembrandt wiped a river of sweat off his forehead as he leaned against the wall. He rubbed the muscles of his arms, which ached in protest. "Man, I never worked so hard in all my life."

His partner, whose name turned out to be Floyd, regarded Rembrandt with a grin. "I guess things are pretty cushy out there in the Outback, huh?"

Rembrandt gave him a tired look. "Look, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm from another dimension. One where the biggest pests you have to worry about are in the White House. I'm not from this planet."

"Sure, whatever," Floyd said. "Hand me another box of nails, E.T."

Rembrandt handed him the nails, then reached for another plank of wood. "So how long you been here, man?"

Floyd tucked six nails into his mouth. "About three weeks. Came here from Nevada. My wife and I were hoping to take the West Coast shuttle to Australia. Just our luck, the government shut down the shuttle two hours before we got there. Said they were trying to stop a panic. You ask me, they're just afraid some bugs were gonna follow us low-lifes onto their precious Outback resorts."

Floyd spat a nail into his hand, then began to hammer it into the wall. "Somebody at the station heard about this place, we came here. Harkins let us in. We'll always be grateful for that."

Rembrandt leaned the plank of wood against the wall. "You guys really like that Harkins guy, huh?"

"Are you kiddin'? He saved our lives. Without this place, there'd be nowhere to go. I don't think anybody here is gonna forget that. You shouldn't, either."

"Hey, I don't. Just wish the place was a little...sturdier, that's all."

Floyd stopped hammering to look up at the roof with a broad grin, despite the endless scrabbling of insects on concrete. "Ah, don't worry about that. The doc's gonna think of something. Besides, if your friends can make that pesticide, we won't need this place any longer."

"Yeah," Rembrandt said, not saying what he was thinking. Quinn was a smart guy, he would be the first to admit, but Rembrandt didn't think he knew beans about chemistry. If everyone was hanging their hopes on him, this place wasn't going to last much longer.

Rembrandt drew his hammer back to nail up his fifteenth board when he caught sight of his double, Sgt. Brown, crossing the bunker to the elevators.

Rembrandt shoved his plank of wood into Floyd's hands. "Hey, take care of this for me, will you? I gotta have a little chat with that guy."

Rembrandt hurried across the room to catch up with the sergeant, who was pushing the call button for the elevator. "Hey, man, wait up."

Sgt. Brown glared at him out of the corner of his eye, then faced straight ahead at the elevator doors. "Yes, what is it, Mr. Brown."

"Hey, lay off the Mr. Brown stuff, huh? Call me Rembrandt or maybe Rembrandt2, seein' as how there's two of us."

"Is there something you want, Mr. Brown?"

Rembrandt tried to keep his smile propped up, but it was hard in the face of his double's agression. "I just wanted to talk, that's all. See if I could clear the air somehow."

"I doubt that," the sergeant said.

"Well, I doubt your doubt. After all, we're the same guy, right? Just different dimensions. Uh, you believe me when I say that, right?"

"Yes," Sgt. Brown said.

"Hey, that's great. First time for everything, huh? But I'm serious, man. See, my life was different than yours, but the same. I never went into the army. I joined this musical group called the Spinning Tops. You ever hear of it?"

"No," Sgt. Brown said.

"Yeah, I guess it never formed on this world. I always knew I was the brains of that outfit. We had great songs, though." He began to sing. "Cry like a maaan..."

Sgt. Brown turned away from the elevator to glare at him. "So you were a musician, huh? Hm. I...did think of becoming a singer. Before the war. But my brother talked me out of it."

Rembrandt grinned. He was starting to get through to this guy. "Our brother. See, there's the catch. I always thought of joinin' the army. But in my world, I didn't listen to my fat-headed brother. I went to Chicago, met the gang, the rest is history. I guess you're what I would've turned out to be if I hadn't."

"And you're what I would've turned into if I had," Sgt. Brown said. "A worthless, cowardly nobody."

Rembrandt's smile faded. "Hey, I ain't no coward."

"Yes, you are. I remember what I was like back then. Weak-kneed, scared of my own shadow, afraid of spiders. My wife and son looked down on me. She abused me, he took advantage of me. Made me feel worthless. But then I joined the army, and I was somebody. I got the chance to face combat in the Outback, and a guy's never the same after that. I lost my cowardice and became a man."

Sgt. Brown's upper lip wrinkled as he looked up and down at Rembrandt. "But you...you never did nothin'. You just sat back in the States, wasting your life away on singing."

"Look," Rembrandt said, "I don't know what your problem is with me..."

"I'll tell you what the problem is," Sgt. Brown hissed through clenched teeth. "The problem is that I spent four years in the Outback, captured and tortured by the enemy, forced to live off rats and roaches. I finally escaped, made my way to friendly territory, and came home.

"But what did I find? I found a government that listed me as dead, a nation that called me a baby-killer, and to top it all off, my wife and son had welcomed in a stranger into their home instead of me. I ruined my life, I could handle that. But I couldn't handle someone takin' it away from me."

The elevator doors opened, but Sgt. Brown ignored them, taking a step into Rembrandt's wide-eyed face. "I searched for you, my friend. I drove all over San Francisco lookin' for you with a shotgun in the backseat. But I never found you, and before I could return to my home to pick up the pieces of my shattered life, I tuned into a radio broadcast about the spiderwasp infestation. It started a few blocks from my house. My wife and son were the first casualties."

Beads of sweat were forming on Sgt. Brown's veined face as he snarled, "If it hadn't been for my search for you, I would've been home with my family. Maybe I could've saved them. Maybe I could've died with them. But I'll never know. All I knew is that you're to blame."

Sgt. Brown's face broke into a humorless smile. "But I never found you. Until yesterday, when you arrived claiming you were from another dimension, and released the spiderwasps in our world. So I believe you. Because it means you are directly responsible for the state of my planet, and my family. And you're gonna pay. You hear me? You're gonna pay."

Sgt. Brown stormed away from him into the elevator. The doors slammed closed behind him, and the motors carried the car away with a pleasant hum.

Rembrandt swallowed and trudged back to his workstation. He went back to hammering in a daze, because he realized then that the man who called himself Rembrandt Brown and looked like Rembrandt Brown was not Rembrandt Brown. He knew this because looking into the eyes of Sgt. Rembrandt Brown was not like looking into his own eyes in a mirror.

It was like looking into the eyes of madness itself.

CHAPTER FIVE

When the lunch siren rang at noon, Quinn was only too happy to leave their experiments behind. Wade had made the suggestion that they analyze the versions of the pesticide Goodwin developed, called DDC. Each of the bottles in the refrigerator was a variation of his creation, as well as a failure, but by following his train of thought, they hoped to be able to take his work to the next level.

It wasn't going too well. Goodwin's notes were excellent, but only to a point. They stopped just short of a major breakthrough, one Quinn was certain was the key to success. He and Wade had spent the morning examining the modifications he had made to DDC, trying to see where Goodwin was headed. So far, they were having no luck.

By the time they arrived at the cafeteria, it was already full. Quinn filled up his tray with salad, avoiding the rabbit soup and its distributor, Mrs. Tweek.

Rembrandt and Arturo were already seated at a table, settling into their meal. Quinn couldn't help noticing that the professor seemed unusually cheerful, while Rembrandt seemed unusually morbid. The professor ate with gusto, while Rembrandt merely stirred his bowl of soup with his spoon.

Quinn and Wade took a seat across from them. As Quinn picked up his fork, he said, "Hey, guys. How's it goin'?"

Arturo took a bite of a carrot stick, then waved it in the air absently as he chewed. "Quite well, actually. I must admit, I rather enjoy this whole...gardening endevour."

"You?" Wade exclaimed.

Arturo scowled. "Yes, me. Is that so hard to fathom?"

"Quite frankly, yeah. You're the last guy I'd expect to see puttering around with flowers all day long."

Arturo popped the rest of the carrot stick into his mouth and chewed it a little too hard before saying, "They are not flowers, they are fruits and vegetables. Besides, a man is entitled to explore his..." He waved a hand in a vague gesture. "...softer side every now and then."

He glared at Wade, who was still giving him a knowing smirk. "If you don't wipe that silly grin off your face, I won't be held responsible for my actions."

"Okay, professor," Wade said. "Whatever you say." She began to dice the fruit in her salad, humming softly to herself.

Quinn shook a pinch of pepper on the lettuce on his plate. "How's things going with you, Rembrandt?"

Rembrandt stopped stirring his food with his spoon and pushed the bowl aside. "Couldn't get any worse. I spent all day bustin' my back hauling and nailing...I feel like one big blister. And besides that, I had a little chat with myself earlier today."

Wade looked up at him in surprise. "You mean the sergeant? Cool. What'd he say?"

"He blames me for the death of his wife and kid. I know he put me on reinforcement detail just to get my goat." Rembrandt leaned forward, holding up a finger." I'll tell you somethin'...that ain't me. It's like somebody who's taken over my body and...warped it."

Arturo patted his mouth with a napkin before saying, "Actually, you may have something there, Mr. Brown. Your duplicate's pathological nature could be a result of his experience in combat. War does change a man."

"I'll say," Rembrandt said. "He's gone right off the deep end. I'm not goin' anywhere near Beetle Bailey for the next three days, if I can help it. That's the only way I'll be safe. How about you, Q-Ball? You and Wade come up with anything?"

"Not much," Quinn murmured. "We're still trying to figure out where Dr. Goodwin was headed, let alone coming up with something on our own. If only Goodwin had gone a little farther with his research or at least written down the direction he was heading, maybe we could come up with something. As it is now, we're just grasping at straws."

Wade was blowing on a spoonful of soup, but lowered it as she cleared her throat. "Uh, you know, Quinn, I didn't want to say anything before, but...I don't think we can do this."

Quinn looked at her. "What?"

Wade let her spoon rest on her tray. "Come on, Quinn, let's face facts. I mean, we're not exactly master chemists. The two of us combined are only a hair above a high-school level education on this. We just can't do this on our own."

"We have to try," Quinn said.

Wade rested a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I know you feel responsible..."

Quinn pushed her hand off. "It's not about that. It's about these people having nowhere else to turn. We walked out on these people once. I'm not walking out on them again."

"Excuse me," a voice behind them said.

Quinn looked up at a group of hippies who stood beside the table. They were wearing tie-dyed clothes, now tattered and torn. One of them glared down at Wade through round sunglasses.

"Uh, hi," Wade said.

"We know who you are," the man said. "You're the prophets."

Wade blinked, then said, "Oh...oh, yeah, Skid. Uh, hi."

Quinn groaned, internally. He well remembered their last visit, when Wade and Rembrandt were taken in by a hippie commune who believed they were immortal prophets. Despite Arturo's efforts to disuade her, Wade insisted on imparting some of her thoughts on the Australian War with them before leaving.

Wade obviously remembered it, too, and looked uncomfortable. "Look, about that whole prophet thing..."

"Have you come to bestow more of your vast wisdom on us?" Skid asked. There was an unmistakable sarcastic edge to his voice.

"Uh, no, you see..."

"We trusted you," Skid said. "We believed in you. You told us what to do, and we followed your teachings!"

He was yelling now, and the entire cafeteria fell silent as everyone watched and listened.

"You told us not to go to Australia," Skid said. "You told us it was an unjust war. You told us that the Summer of Love would never end, that peace and joy would spread across our world."

His hand drifted into the air, as if reaching out to touch an invisible paradise. Then his hand fell back down to his side as he glared down at Wade.

"Well, where are your predictions now?" Skid whispered. "Huh? Those who went to Australia lived, while we stayed here to oppose the war and *died*. Seeker, Moonlight, Fling...they're all gone. And our so-called Summer of Love is over. It ended the day the bugs came knockin' at our door. Why didn't you tell us about them?"

"Look," Wade said, "I'll be honest with you. We're...not really prophets. We're just...people."

"Yeah," Skid said. "I know that now. Too little, too late. Well, we don't want you here. We want you out there with the bugs, testing your immortality."

"I told you," Wade said with a trembling voice, "we are not immortal."

"Well, we'll soon find out. Get her!"

The hippies lunged forward to grab hold of Wade's arms. She screamed, trying to twist herself free, but they began to drag her away from the table. Quinn leapt to his feet, driving a fist into a hippie's stomach. He doubled over and Quinn seized his chance to grasp Wade's arm. He tried to pull Wade away from the hippies, but it became a tug-of war.

Rembrandt slammed his tray down onto the head of one of the hippies, who went down. Then Skid drove a fist into Rembrandt's jaw, knocking him onto the table. Skid pulled a knife out of his belt, then screamed as he raised it high in the air.

"Freeze!" a booming voice yelled.

The fight halted almost immediately.

Sgt. Brown stood in the doorway of the cafeteria. He was aiming a gun at Skid's head. "Get away from them. All of you, back off."

The hippies released Wade. Skid angrily threw his knife to the floor, where it landed on the point of its blade. They all backed up a few steps. Wade gave one of the hippies a vicious kick in the stomach. As he doubled, she glared down at him with her fists clenched.

"Hands off, pal," she snarled.

The hippie lunged towards her, screaming with rage. Sgt. Brown stopped him blasting a hole in the concrete floor with his gun.

"I said, back off!" Sgt. Brown yelled.

The hippie froze. Wade moved away from the hippies, into Quinn's arms. Quinn held her as he stared grimly at Sgt. Brown.

Harkins came running into the cafeteria, his glasses threatening to fly off at his rapid pace. "What's going on here?"

"Fight, sir," Sgt. Brown said, his gun still aimed and ready. "Skid and his boys attacked the newcomers."

Harkins nodded, adjusting his glasses on his nose. "I see. Well, you know the rules."

He turned to face the rest of the room. "Everyone knows the rules. Violence will not be tolerated, *cannot* be tolerated in our society. We must work together for the common good."

"They're liars!" Skid yelled. "They brought the plague of the spiderwasps to our world! They destroyed us all! They deserve to die!"

"That's not your place to decide," Harkins said. "You have no authority here. You should have come to me with your complaints. You will be confined to the storage rooms downstairs for ninety days each."

"I'll have to put together some bars to hold them, sir," Sgt. Brown said. "Not a proper jail without bars."

Harkins turned away with dragging steps. "Whatever. Just...take them away."

"Yes, sir. All right, you maggots. Move along."

Sgt. Brown shoved the hippies into a group, then hustled them to the elevator. Sgt. Brown waited until all the hippies had trudged inside before following them in and closing the doors. When the doors were shut, the cafeteria returned to life.

"Wow," Quinn said. "That was close. You okay, Wade?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Just a few bumps, that's all. Uh, you can let go of me now."

Quinn let her go with a sheepish grin. "Oh. Right. Sorry."

Arturo looked down at his meal, scattered all over the table, then folded his napkin beside his overturned plate. "Well, I believe I've lost my appetite after that little display."

Kat passed by with a tray of carrots. "Hey, guys, I just thought I should warn you. Skid's gang isn't the only one that thinks you guys are bad news. I'd watch my back from now on, if I were you."

"We will," Quinn said. "Thanks."

Kat nodded and wandered off.

"What kind of world is this?" Wade whispered.

"It's ours," Quinn said. "We created it."

****

That night, Quinn lay in his bunk, reading by the light of his flashlight. He stared at the pages in Goodwin's notebook until his eyes blurred, then pushed it aside. Just for a few minutes. His brain felt like mush, but he couldn't stop. He had to keep going. Somewhere, there had to be a solution. All he had to do was find it.

Quinn's tent flap opened. Wade poked her head through the opening, trying to force a smile.

"Hi," she said. "Need some company?"

"Are you nuts?" Quinn whispered. "If the sergeant catches you, he'll lock you up like he locked up those hippies."

"I don't care." Wade pushed the rest of her body through the tent-flap and dropped cross-legged onto the floor beside Quinn's bunk. "I want to go."

"Go where?" Quinn asked. "There's nothing out there."

Wade looked up at him, bangs of her hair veiling shadows over her eyes. "I don't mean out of this bunker," she said. "I mean out of this place. This universe. Zap up a portal, Quinn, and let's hit the road."

Quinn dropped his head back onto his pillow with a sigh. "You know I can't do that, Wade. It's too dangerous."

"I don't care," Wade whispered. "I *hate* this place. It's so horrible. Everyone's scared and miserable, living in a concrete bubble while those monsters get closer and closer every second...you can't get away from the chewing. It's everywhere, and it's so loud in my room, getting louder all the time..."

She wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging them to her chest. "I can't take it anymore."

Quinn rolled over on his side to look at her. "I know how you feel, Wade. I hate it here, too. But we can't go, and that's not just because of the timer. We made this place the way it is. We can't leave until we make it right."

Wade looked up at Quinn, her eyes seeming to shimmer in the dim light. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"What?"

"What I said to those hippies. I was just trying to help. I thought they'd be happy if I told them what they wanted to hear. I guess I even thought that...if they believed it hard enough, it would come true. Now those poor guys lost their lives, their friends, their dreams..."

Quinn reached out a hand to brush a lock of her hair away from her eyes. "Hey, come on, don't blame yourself. Okay, the prophet stuff was a mistake, but you didn't do anything wrong. You couldn't have known how it would turn out. You were only trying to help, and nobody forced those guys to pull a knife on us."

Quinn rolled over onto his back again. "Besides, if anyone's to blame, it's me."

"Hey, Quinn, I already..."

"No, Wade, you're wrong. It *is* my fault. It's all my fault, everything that's happened to us in the last year. I mean...do you have any idea what it's like to have this weight on my conscience? Every time we get hurt or lost or end up running for our lives on another world...I can't help thinking 'This is all my fault.' And now, because of me, a whole planet's been screwed up. I'm responsible for the deaths of *millions* because of the spiderwasps, of the near extinction of a human race. If I hadn't built that stupid machine, we could be home right now..."

"Doing what? Living our boring old lives?" Wade took hold of his forearm and shook it gently. "Come on, this is an adventure."

Quinn glared up into space, at the rumpled pyramid that formed the roof of his tent. "You don't believe that."

"Yes, I do. I mean, yeah, sure, things don't always go our way, but...did you ever stop to think about the fact that we're seeing things no one else has ever seen before? Going places no one's ever been? I mean forget the astronauts going to the Moon. We're finding whole new *universes*. Seeing life in strange new ways."

Quinn shook his head, still gazing up at the ceiling, watching shadows crawl along the canvas. "It's not like that."

"Yes, it is. I mean, look me in the eye and tell me that when we land on a new world, when we're at that moment where we don't know what to expect or what we'll see...tell me that's not a thrill." Wade poked him in the arm. "Go on. Tell me."

Despite his melancholy, a smirk crawled along Quinn's lips. "Well...I guess I can't. That is pretty cool, isn't it?"

"Oh, yeah," Wade said. "Hey, remember the time we landed in that world inhabited by birds?"

Quinn couldn't suppress a burst of laughter. "I thought the professor would never get his clothes clean."

Wade laughed with him, punching him in the arm. "See? And I bet, if you asked the others, they'd feel the same way."

Quinn's smile dwindled a bit as he said, "Even Rembrandt?"

Wade nodded. "Even Rembrandt. After all, he did get to see what his life would be like if he'd been a superstar. That's something he couldn't have done back home."

"Yeah," Quinn said. "But I still wish we could get home."

Wade lowered her head slightly, gazing at the floor beneath her. "So do I, Quinn. We all do. And we will. But at least we'll have some fun along the way, huh?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Quinn smiled down at Wade, who smiled back.

In the dim glow of the flashlight, she was beautiful, but she was always beautiful. He sometimes wondered why he had never seen it before. Back home, they had been platonic friends, working together in a computer store. But now, Quinn was almost sure he was falling in love with her. That kiss they had shared in his basement was one of the most magical times of his life.

So why couldn't he say something? His mind was reeling, telling him to tell her how he felt right now, while the moment was right, say it, right now, but Quinn's tongue rebelled, holding itself back, despite the longing to release it, and then the moment was gone.

Wade got up, brushing dust off her pants. "Well, I better get back to my room before the sergeant catches me. You turning in?"

Quinn, cursing himself inwardly, picked up the battered notebook off the floor. "Yeah, in a minute. I just wanna give Goodwin's notes one more going-over, just to see if I missed something."

Wade stood at the flap of the tent, looking back at him over her shoulder with a faint smile. "Okay. G'night."

"Night."

Then Wade pushed the tent-flap aside and was gone. Quinn flopped back onto his bunk with a sigh, tossing the notebook into the air. He'd chickened out again, just like the time before, and the time before that. He could never bring himself to say the things he wanted and needed to say to Wade, could never bring their relationship to the next level. The days just passed, one by one, while they both hoped for something more.

"Quinn," he whispered to himself, "you are the biggest loser on Earth. All three billion of them."

When his irritation had subsided, Quinn looked down at the notebook resting on the floor. It had fallen over, losing the page he had saved. Quinn picked it up again to flip to the back, trying to find the page he needed, when he came across the listing of safety procedures. Quinn's eyes swept over it, preparing to move on, when he caught sight of something.

He had seen it before, but Quinn never made the connection until now. He blinked, trying to comprehend what he had seen. Then it all came together in his mind with an almost audible snap.

Quinn lunged out of his bunk, running across the cold floor in his bare feet to the tent's entrance to get Wade. Just as he poked his head out, he saw Sgt. Rembrandt Brown trudging past his tent. The gun in his holster was clearly visible.

Quinn ducked back into his tent. Okay, he couldn't talk to Wade. Not yet. But he would tomorrow. Rembrandt and Arturo, too. And everything they thought about this place was going to change forever.

Because Quinn knew the truth.

CHAPTER SIX

If this had been a normal world, sunlight would have been shining through the windows, heralding the dawn of a new day. But Professor Arturo was acutely aware, as he awoke on a leathery bunk in a tent, that this was not a normal world. There no open windows or doors to indicate the morning's arrival. Only the morning siren told him that this was another day.

Arturo sat up in his bed, groaning, as his bones protested his movements. It had been a dreadful night's sleep by any standards. Many factors were involved in this, but one was the fact that he didn't have any pajamas. He had been forced to sleep in his undershirt and boxers, the same undershirt and boxers he had carried with him from Earth Prime. Arturo couldn't wait to get back home to his wardrobe for a change of pace. At least the bunker had a laundry service which provided him with clean clothes.

The other factor that made sleep elusive was the constant grinding of the spiderwasps. Every time he had started to drift off, an especially loud crunch would jolt him back to consciousness.

But the worst thing of all was tea. Specifically, the lack of it. Arturo missed many things about his original Earth, but one of the biggest was a nice, hot cup of tea served at four o'clock. It had been his link to his childhood in Britain, one he hadn't been able to indulge in for what seemed like centuries.

"Maybe I can get some coffee," Arturo murmured.

As he reached for his pants that lay folded beside his bed, Quinn folded back the flap on his tent that served as a door.

"Professor?" Quinn asked. "You in here?"

"Who did you expect?" Arturo growled, then covered his lap with his pants. "And I would appreciate a little privacy. Not bad enough we're in an alternate dimension, but a man needs a little time to put on his trousers in peace."

Quinn winced and averted his eyes. "Sorry, professor. I just wanted to let you know I'm meeting the others in the greenhouse in ten minutes. I've got something really big to tell you guys."

Arturo was tucked his legs into his pants as he frowned up at Quinn. "Really? Like what?"

"Couldn't talk about it out here. Just be there." Quinn hurried through the tent-flap, leaving it rippling in his wake.

Then he reappeared. "Oh, and make sure no one's in the greenhouse with you."

"What about Mary?" Arturo asked. "She works there."

"Get rid of her. We can't let anyone hear our conversation."

"But..."

Too late. Quinn had vanished out of the tent again.

Arturo shook his head as he zipped up his pants. "Never a moment's peace."

****

Quinn weaved through the crowds of Harkinville citizens headed for the cafeteria. It was breakfast time, but food was the farthest thing from Quinn's mind as he made his way through the bunker. His mind was locked on the remarkable discovery he had made the night before. It had changed everything he believed about this place, and made him so nervous that he found himself watching everyone around him for signs of trouble.

Quinn reached the greenhouse, glancing around for spectators. When it seemed as if no one was paying attention to him, Quinn knocked on the door three times. After a few more seconds had passed, Quinn knocked again.

Before his knock had even faded, the greenhouse door opened a crack, allowing Arturo to peer out.

"It's me, professor," Quinn said.

"I can see that," Arturo said. "I'm just checking to make sure your head is still on straight."

Arturo opened the door wider, allowing Quinn to hurry past him into the darkly-lit greenhouse. When Quinn was safely inside, Arturo shut the door firmly behind him.

Wade and Rembrandt were already there, leaning against one of the rows of hydroponic tanks, lit by the pale blue light of the UV-lamps. Rembrandt leaned back to pluck a grape off one of the vines twirling on a pole behind him. "Okay, Q-Ball, you mind telling me why you dragged us all the way out here on this fine morning?" He popped the grape into his mouth.

"Yes," Arturo said. "And why the devil did you want to get rid of Mary so we could meet in this place? By the way, Mr. Brown, don't touch the grapes. They're not ripe yet, and I need to give them another coating of Quik-Grow."

Rembrandt chewed up the grape and spat the seed into the hydroponic tank. Then he grinned. "There. Whole new plant for you to grow."

Arturo scowled as he began to advance on Rembrandt. "Mr. Brown, you can't just..."

Wade moved between them, bracing her hands on their chests to seperate them. "Hey, hey, hey. Come on, you guys. Knock it off. I think what Quinn has to say is a little more important than a grape, okay?"

"It is," Quinn said. "Oh, boy, is it ever. Guys...someone in this bunker is a murderer."

Rembrandt and Arturo stopped glaring at each other, turning their eyes onto Quinn instead. Wade's hands slid down to her sides as she stared at Quinn, her eyes wide with horror.

"What?" Wade whispered.

"Yes, Mr. Mallory," Arturo asked. "What are you talking about?"

Quinn pulled the Goodwin notebook out of his pocket, and began flipping through its pages. "I was reading this last night, you know, trying to see if I could figure out Dr. Goodwin's breakthrough...when I came across this."

Quinn held up the notebook, displaying a page headlined with the words "SAFETY PROCEDURES" in bold handwritten lettering.

"These pages," Quinn whispered, "outline Dr. Goodwin's procedures for handling the toxic chemicals he used as well as the spiderwasps' containment. He was incredibly thorough. I don't why I didn't think of it before."

"Get to the point, Mr. Mallory," Arturo said.

"Yeah, right, sorry." Quinn lowered the noteook, clutching it tightly in his hands. "Okay, remember how Dr. Harkins said Dr. Goodwin was killed?"

"Yes, by a spiderwasp that escaped from one of the jars in his laboratory. Nothing unusual or surprising about that. Those creatures are so dangerous, they probably escape all the time."

Quinn pointed at him. "That's what I thought. But you're wrong. We were both wrong. I should've thought of it when we first saw the lab. Goodwin's been dead for weeks. But his spiderwasps are still in their jars. None of them chewed their way out."

Wade snapped her fingers. "Hey, that's right. And the sergeant said the jars could only contain them for a few days."

"I see," Arturo said. "That is rather odd, isn't it?"

Rembrandt shook his head. "I don't get it. What's that got to do with a murderer?" "You'll see," Quinn said. "Because I found Dr. Goodwin's method of containing the spiderwasps, right here. It says that, at first, Goodwin tried to use thick glass jars to contain the spiderwasps, but it was impractical. So he used a new method. He would catch a spiderwasp and knock it out with a very powerful sedative, but even so he only had a few seconds before it recovered. But that was long enough to do what he had to do; remove their fangs."

"Good lord," Arturo whispered.

"Exactly," Quinn said. "I checked out the bugs in the lab. All of them had their fangs removed. There's no way any of Goodwin's specimens could have chewed their way out, because none of them have anything to chew with."

"So that means," Rembrandt said, "that his death wasn't an accident."

"Right," Quinn said. "I think someone deliberately released a spiderwasp in Goodwin's laboratory to kill him. There was another clue that I just didn't pick up on. If one of his spiderwasps killed him, then which was it? All the spiderwasps in his lab were accounted for, so where's the one that killed him? Unless someone caught it and put it back in its jar, the spiderwasp should've been gone."

"You were quite right in your assessment, Mr. Mallory," Arturo said. "There is a murderer somewhere among us."

"But that leaves one big whopper of a question," Wade said. "Who would wanna kill Dr. Goodwin?"

"I think there is an even greater question," Arturo said. "Why would anyone want to kill him? He was working on something that could save all mankind. Who would have a grudge against him strong enough to risk stopping that work?"

"My double," Rembrandt said. "Sergeant Brown."

Wade frowned at him. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, who else around here is nutty enough to kill somebody? I think he almost took a swing at me yesterday."

"Yeah?" Wade asked. "Well, I've got an even better candidate. Those hippies who tried to kill me yesterday. They looked whacko enough to try anything."

"Of course," Arturo said, "we may be thinking along the wrong lines. We are trying to decide among the people we have witnessed commit violent acts, but that may not be the case. It is possible that, among the people who came to this bunker, one of them was a sociopath. If that was the case, he may have killed Goodwin simply because he was available, not for any good reason. And he...or she...would be difficult to capture, since sociopaths are capable mimics of sanity."

"The professor's right," Quinn said. "There are lots of people in here we know nothing about. Any one of them could be a murderer."

"So we're right back where we started," Rembrandt said. "With more questions than answers."

"Yeah, but it's a start. I want everybody to keep their eyes and ears open. We've got two more days in this place, and I intend to leave here on two feet."

"I second that motion," Rembrandt said.

"Indeed," Arturo said. "I believe we're all in agreement on that point. Now you'd all best be going. Mary will be here any moment, and I still haven't pruned the bonsai orange trees."

Rembrandt and Quinn headed for the door, checking to see if anyone was watching before they slipped out. Wade paused to give Arturo a knowing smile.

Arturo threw up his hands. "All right, all right, I surrender, Miss Wells. I like gardening. I adore it. I am a complete failure as a man and a human being. There, are you satisfied?"

"Yup." Wade sauntered out the door with her hands in her pockets, whistling to herself.

Arturo furrowed his brow as he murmured, "Impudent young hooligan."

He turned away with further grumblings, then paused to look down into the hydroponic tank Rembrandt had been standing next to. The grape seed that Rembrandt had spat into it floated on the bubbling chemicals.

Arturo squinted at it, then pulled out one of his gloves. Slipping it on his hand, Arturo carefully fished out the grape seed, then tucked it into a plastic pouch in his belt. "Waste not, want not," he whispered as he headed for the miniature orange trees.

****

Rembrandt was striding to his work area as he passed a platform around which were gathered a large number of Harkinville's citizens. A man standing on the platform was holding up a small hand-held Tiger LCD videogame as he spoke in rapid tones.

"Okay," he was saying, "I've got a blender for this lovely version of Sonic the Hedgehog. Do I hear more?"

"Clock radio," a woman called out.

"I have a clock radio. Thank you, madame. Anyone have a blender today? That's the highest I can go, thank you, sir, one blender..."

Rembrandt poked someone in the ribs. "Hey, what's goin' on?"

"It's the weekly auction," the woman said without looking back. "You know, stuff from outside. I'm holding out on this one. I hear someone managed to bring in a copy of last month's Vogue magazine."

Rembrandt shook his head, grinning. "Man, this place is too much."

He headed over to the section of the wall where he was assigned. He felt strangely optimistic about the day. Somehow, the prospect of living and working in this place didn't seem too bad anymore. At least it was something to keep him busy.

As he approached the wall, his steps slowed to a halt. He frowned as he loked around at his feet, but there was nothing there. His hammer was gone. "Hey, wha..."

Sgt. Brown seemed to emerge from the shadows, a cold smile on his face. "I'm afraid you've been reassigned, Mr. Brown. You've got a new job now."

Rembrandt tried to stay calm in the face of his double's malevolence as he shrugged. "Well...okay. Gotta be better than this."

"Oh, I doubt it. I've decided that Kat could use a little help on her runs. You'll be goin' with her."

Rembrandt's hesitant smile faded as he asked the question he knew the answer to. "To where?"

Sgt. Brown slowly raised a hand with the index finger extended until it pointed to the front gate.

The impact of what he was saying weakened Rembrandt's knees until he could barely stand. "You mean...out there?"

"That's right."

Rembrandt took a step away from the sergeant, shaking his head. "No way, man. No way I'm goin' out there."

Sgt. Brown unbuckled the gun in his holster. "Oh, you'll go. You'll go, one way or another. It's either suit up and go with Kat or I put a bullet through your thick skull and throw you out that door."

Rembrandt closed his eyes. The scrabbling at the walls seemed so much louder now, the spiderwasps so much more vivid. But he knew he had no choice. This was what the sergeant wanted all along, and there was no escape.

"Okay," he whispered. "I'll go."

Sgt. Brown nodded. "That's the spirit. I just hope you have better luck out there than Kat's last partner."

"What happened to him?" Rembrandt asked, even though he didn't really want to hear the answer.

"He got stung fifteen times by the bugs. When Kat dragged his body back here, we didn't even recognize it. Try to wear some identification, okay, buddy?"

The sergeant clapped Rembrandt on the back twice, then strode off.

Rembrandt closed his eyes and swallowed. He wished he'd finished his breakfast. He had a feeling it was going to be his last meal.

****

Kat was in a room near the front gate, tugging on the last pieces of her armor. She looked up as Rembrandt entered the room with a broad grin.

"Hey, welcome aboard," Kat said. "Nice to have some company for a change."

Rembrandt lingered in the doorway. "Yeah. I heard what happened to your company last time."

Kat pulled a metal tube onto her forearm. "Ah, don't sweat it. He just got careless. It's no picnic out there, but survival is possible. It's all a matter of knowing what you're doing."

Kat opened a nearby locker to display a second suit of armor that looked like it was made of pots and pans welded together. "Lesson number one, never, ever face the bugs without protection. That means solid metal covering every part of your body, especially the face. The bugs love to go for the face."

"Great." Rembrandt lifted the armor off a hook from inside the locker. He felt himself being dragged forward by his arms until he immediately toppled over onto the floor. "This stuff weighs a ton!"

"Well, it's not exactly styrofoam," Kat said. "Don't worry, you get used to it. Now climb in."

Rembrandt grunted as he pulled the piece of the armor up and onto his body; first the chestplate, sleeves, legs, and finally the helmet. It had a grille on the front through which he could see Kat grinning up at him.

"Perfect fit," she said. "Okay, I packed a bag for you. Grab your gear, and let's go."

Rembrandt hoisted the canvas bag she pointed out to him onto her shoulder, then followed as she marched to the front gate. He was trembling so hard that it was impossible for him to walk a straight line.

The guards nodded as she passed them, then unlocked the main gate. It slid open to reveal the small chamber in which the Volkswagon van was parked. She led Rembrandt to the doors of the van, which were even more dented and chewed-away than he remembered.

Kat climbed behind the wheel of the van while Rembrandt struggled into the passenger seat, fighting the weight of the armor.

"Lesson number two," she said, "fasten your seatbelt. This ain't no summer cruise we're goin' on."

"Right." Rembrandt locked his seatbelt and made sure it was secure.

When he was done, Kat started the van, then punched a button on her dashboard. The door behind them slid open, accompanied by a blaring siren as spiderwasps filled the chamber with them. Kat backed the van out onto the street, closed the garage door in front of her, then sent the vehicle roaring down the street.

She was calm, seemingly oblivious to the deafening buzzing of the spiderwasps, and their bodies that cracked into the windshield.

"Okay," Kat said, "our purpose is very simple. Some people may have survived the first wave of the spiderwasps. It's doubtful, but Dr. Harkins wants to make sure. That why I'm doing a grid-by-grid search of the entire city, exploring every building, tunnel, sewer, and nest. If I find anyone, I bring them back to the bunker, although you guys are the first I've ever seen."

Rembrandt stared at her, the last parts of her speech frozen in his mind. "Did you say nests?"

"Yup. We're going into the belly of the beast. Not just for people, but meat. All the animals left in California have been caught by the spiderwasps. Every now and then, I make a run for the local nests to see if I can cut some animals loose from their webs. The webbing preserves them in almost mint condition. I hate that veggie crap."

"But...isn't that a bit...dangerous?"

"Ah, don't worry, I've done this hundreds of times. Only got stung...let's see...twenty-six times. But that's over a six-month period, so it evens itself out."

"You've been stung?" Rembrandt asked. "How'd you survive?"

"Well, before Dr. Goodwin passed on, he developed an antidote to the spiderwasp's venom. It works great, but it's kind of ironic that we couldn't get it to him in time to save him."

"Why not?"

"Well, most of the supply is kept by the main gate, because we figured that's where it would be needed most. But his lab is on the second floor. No one was around to help him when he died, and we figure he couldn't get to the elevator in time to inject himself with the antidote."

"Mm," Rembrandt said, but couldn't help thinking how convenient that was. That fit nicely with Quinn's murderer theory.

"Of course," Kat said, "with him gone, we're running a little low because no one else knew how to make the stuff. Now we keep half of the remaining supply in the lab, and the other half in my backpack for emergencies. Hopefully we won't need it for long. How you guys comin' on that pesticide, anyway?"

"Uh, it's...in the early stages."

Kat turned a corner too fast, skidding on two wheels before slamming back down again. "Well, that's good. Okay, lesson number three, the bugs are tough, but they can be killed. A good sweep from one of the Uzis in your pack, and they'll go down. Only problem is, there are so many of them that you can't hold them off forever. That's where lesson number four comes in."

"Four," Rembrandt said, trying to keep it all straight.

"Right. Lesson number four, smokescreens. The bugs get confused and drowsy by smoke, just like bees." Kat released the steering wheel long enough to toss Rembrandt a metal canister. "That's a smoke grenade, releases a cloud of thick smoke after you pull the pin. A good tactic is to use the guns and smoker in unison. Fog up the place to disorient the bugs, then mow 'em down."

"Got it," Rembrandt said.

"But the most important lesson of all," Kat said, "is to keep moving at all times. The bugs can't sting what they can't catch. Got all that?"

"I think so."

"Good. Time for your final exam."

Rembrandt looked out the windshield to see a massive white form looming on the horizon. It looked like it had once been a skyscraper, but it was now completely encased in a massive cocoon. He could see a thick swarm of spiderwasps encircling the nest like clouds clinging to the summit of a mountain.

Kat pulled up to the curb in front of the building. She opened her backpack to pull out a pair of Uzis. Rembrandt did the same. He echoed Kat's movements as she flicked off the safety and the catch on the cocking handle slide. Then she strapped more guns to her belt, as well as grenades, and smokers.

"Every shoot an Uzi before?" she asked.

"Not really," Rembrandt said.

"When you fire," she said, jamming a machete into a holster on her boot, "you gotta squeeze your palm against that button on the rear of the grip. Other than that, the gun works itself. Just aim and pull the trigger."

Kat looked at Rembrandt with an encouraging smile, but he could see the fear in her eyes. "You ready?"

Rembrandt clutched his Uzis tightly. He couldn't believe he was going to do this, couldn't believe he was going to die in this world, all becaus