“Come on,” I said, breaking into a run.
“What are we doing?” Madison whispered.
“Seeing what’s in that van. It didn’t look like he locked it.”
“Probably because he’s coming right back.”
“Then we should definitely hurry. Your camera is on, right?” I stopped as we approached the garage, taking a moment to peek around the corner. It was empty.
“Of course it’s on. I’m not wearing it because it looks cute.” She adjusted the camera on her chest.
I darted to the van and grasped the back handle. I pulled the door open.
A scrab lunged at me.
Madison gasped. I stumbled back, barely escaping a swipe of claws. The scrab—no scrabs, plural, there were two of them—were chained to the van. Their legs were free, but each arm had a silver cuff and a short chain that was bolted to the floor.
The scrab closest to Madison lunged again, yanking on its chain. The bolt began to pull away from the floor of the van. It wasn’t going to keep the scrab contained much longer.
Madison pulled out her machete. I grabbed mine as well.
“How many times have I told you not to leave them unattended?” a voice called. “And why is this door still open?”
The garage door began to close. I darted toward it, but it was moving too fast, and I could hear footsteps approaching from the other side of the van.
Madison and I scrambled to the front of the vehicle and crouched down in front of the headlights. I slid my machete back into its sheath and peeked around the side of the van to see a man dressed in a suit standing near the roaring scrabs.
“Oh, come on, Kavanaugh! They even opened the door! You should have at least checked on them before walking away.”
Footsteps pounded the pavement. “Jesus, they’ve almost pulled those chains out,” a second male voice said. They both had American accents.
“We need to rethink the restraints we’re using. I’m bringing it up with investors.” He sighed. “Come on, let’s send a sedation team to deal with this. There’s a retrieval van leaving now. They’ve picked up significant scrab movement a few miles away.”
“Yeah?” The second guy sounded excited.
Retrieval van? That sounded like they were capturing more scrabs. I looked at Madison. She was already typing a message out on her phone.
A door opened and then closed. The van rocked on its wheels as the scrabs roared.
Madison stood. “Let’s get out of here before—”
The door slammed open, and she quickly crouched down beside me again. Heavy footsteps pounded against the garage floor.
Too heavy. Those didn’t sound like human footsteps.
I peered around the front bumper. Scrabs. Five of them. They were big ones—broad and bulky, with claws that looked so sharp I wondered if someone had filed them to a point. They all had the same silver things on their heads that I’d seen at the farm in France. Three ovals across their foreheads, and one on either side of their necks.
“Subdue,” a voice said. I crept around the van until I could see where it was coming from.
It was a blond woman, dressed in the usual black MDG uniform. She stood at the top of the steps in front of the door that led into the building. She held a tablet in her hand, her attention focused on it.
She glanced up. “Good.”
I ducked back down, scrambling to join Madison on the other side of the van and see what was good. The trained scrabs had the two new ones free from the chains. They held the growling scrabs by either arm.
“Steady,” the woman said. She lifted a strange-looking gun and fired.
Two darts shot out in quick succession and sank into the angry scrab’s neck. The woman fired two more into the other one. They both slumped to the ground.
A man dressed in a suit appeared behind the woman.
“I heard these are the good ones,” he said, peering at the still-standing scrabs. They were stiff and motionless, like they were waiting for instructions.
“Not just good, the best,” the woman said. “These can take verbal commands. We’ve taught them twenty-seven different commands, and there’s no reason they can’t do more. Watch.” She swiped at the tablet and then looked back up. “Retrieve.”
Two of the scrabs immediately began moving. They knelt down and each grabbed the arms of the scrabs that had been darted.
“Bring,” the woman commanded.
The scrabs marched forward, dragging their motionless friends with them.
“Why did only those two obey?” the man asked.
She angled the tablet screen toward him. “I gave the others a shock that keeps them in place. We haven’t been successful giving commands individually yet. We tried giving them names, but they didn’t seem to understand it. They’re pack animals. They want to work together.”
The man smiled. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. This is impressive work. I assume these five are going out with the first shipment?”
“Oh, definitely.” She stepped aside as the scrabs approached her, letting them drag the unconscious ones into the building. She was so close to them that they could have easily swiped their claws across her throat. She didn’t seem the least bit worried.
A phone buzzed, and the man pulled it out of his pocket and then looked at the woman. “It’s the Dust Storm facility. Do you have a minute? The guys there have some questions for you about the scrab shipment. They want to make sure they’re prepared to take them all in.”
“Of course.”
The man glanced at the three scrabs still waiting in the garage. “Do you need to do something about them?”
“They’re fine for a few minutes. They won’t move until given another signal.” She punched a code into the pad on the door and pushed it open. It slammed shut behind them. Silence descended on the garage.
I looked at Madison. She was crouched on the ground, machete clutched in hand. Her eyes were wide when they met mine. She opened her mouth like
