Micro

“The situation has changed, obviously-”

“But this is unconscionable.”

“Tell me about your conscience,” Drake said scornfully, “later.”

She had agreed to help him eliminate Eric, after Eric had threatened to destroy Nanigen. She had thought she loved Vin Drake and maybe she still did love him. Vin had been incredibly good to her, advanced her career, paid her unlimited amounts of money, while Eric had acted so badly toward Vin…Eric had betrayed Vin. But the others were only students…this situation was going out of control. Even so, she felt paralyzed. The situation had developed too fast. She didn’t know how to stop Drake.

“There is nothing cruel about a predator,” Drake said, standing before the snake tank. “It is extremely humane. That black-and-white striped creature on the other side of the glass is a banded krait from Malaysia. Its bite, for a creature Peter’s size, will be almost immediately fatal. He’ll hardly feel a thing. Slurred speech, difficulty swallowing, paralysis of the eyes, and then complete paralysis of the body in a matter of moments. He may possibly still be alive when the snake ingests him but, ah, he probably won’t care…”

Drake placed his index finger against his thumb, and flicked the plastic bag. It caused the micro-humans inside the bag to be flung around. Shouting and swearing with terror and confusion, they tumbled upon one another, while Drake peered at them. “They’re quite lively,” he commented to Alyson. “I assume the krait will accept them. If not, there’s also the cobra and the coral snake.”

She looked away.

“It’s essential, Alyson,” he said. “Their bodies have to be ingested. There can’t be any…evidence.”

“But that’s not all of it,” she said. “What about their car, their hotel rooms, plane tickets-”

“I’ve got a plan for all that.”

“Do you?”

“Trust me. I do.” He stared at her. “Alyson,” he said, after a long moment, “are you saying you don’t trust me?”

“No, of course not,” she said quickly.

“I hope not. Because without trust, we’re nothing. We are in this together, Alyson.”

“I know.”

“Yes, I know you do.” He patted her hand. “Ah, I see young Peter has dusted himself off, and here comes the krait, looking for his meal.” Slithering black and white stripes, partially hidden in the sawdust. Black tongue flicking in and out.

“Now watch closely,” Drake said to her. “It happens fast.”

Alyson had turned away. She couldn’t watch.

Peter got to his feet and brushed himself off. The fall hadn’t hurt him, but he still felt the effects of Drake’s punches and kicks, and his shirt was stuck to his chest with drying blood. He was waist-deep in sawdust, in a glass cage. The cage had a small branch with some leaves on it, otherwise it was empty.

Except for the snake.

From where he stood, he could only see a few dark-gray and white bands. Probably a banded krait, Bungarus candidus. From Malaysia or Vietnam. As a rule, kraits ate other snakes, but he could not count on this one to be fussy. He saw the coils of black and white move and, with a soft hissing sound, disappear. The snake was sliding forward.

He couldn’t see the head, or even very much of the body. He was too small to really grasp the layout of the cage, unless he climbed the branch, which didn’t seem like a good idea. All he could do was wait for the snake to come to him. Helpless, defenseless. He patted his pockets, but they were empty. His body began to shake uncontrollably: was it shock from his beating? Or fright? Probably both. He backed into a corner, glass on both sides. Maybe he would make a reflection that would disturb the snake. Maybe he would-

He saw the head. It emerged from the sawdust, tongue flicking rapidly. It came so close to Peter that the tongue almost brushed his body. He closed his eyes, unable to watch. He was trembling so hard he thought he would collapse in sheer terror.

He took a breath, held it, trying to stop the trembling. He opened one eye slightly, hazarding a look.

The snake was right there, just inches from his torso, and the black tongue continued to flick in and out, but something was wrong. This snake seemed confused, or hesitant-and then, to his utter amazement, the animal raised its head and slithered backward, pulling away from Peter.

Disappearing into the sawdust.

And gone.

And then he did collapse, falling to the ground, shaking with fear and exhaustion, unable to control his body, and one thought remained fixed in his mind-what the hell happened?

“God damn it,” Vin Drake said, looking down through the glass. “What the hell was that? What just happened?”

“Maybe it wasn’t hungry.”

“Oh, it’s hungry alright. God damn it! I can’t have these mishaps. I’m on a schedule, a tight schedule.”

The intercom clicked. “Mr. Drake, you have a visitor. Mr. Drake, visitor at the front desk.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Drake said, throwing up his hands. “I’m not expecting anybody today.” He dialed reception. “What is it, Mirasol?”