We’re not in Kansas anymore, was Matthew Albright’s first coherent thought after watching the strange tree fold in on itself. No plant on Earth moved like that, or looked like that. His mind tried to reject the idea, but the same clinical detachment that allowed him to talk to wealthy clients and explain to them that no, a bathroom that large still can’t have five toilets and three bathtubs on a single pipeline now allowed him to recognize the truth that was staring him in the face.

  And then, just in case he needed more confirmation, a crab the size of a Volkswagen burst out of the surf behind him and charged, pincers upraised and snapping.

  “RUN!” Allie’s voice cracked like a whip, the Command Sergeant tone breaking through his paralysis before it had even had a chance to set in. The part of his brain that accepted clients’ orders and demands with good grace and willingness tried to get his legs to obey his wife’s hollered order.

  The part of his brain labeled ‘father’ told that other part of his brain to get stuffed as he took two fast steps to the right and positioned himself between his kids and the crab.

  The thing was huge, and proportioned weirdly. The pincers were elongated and saw-toothed, more like a scorpion’s than a crab’s. Its carapace bristled with spines, and its body was more slender and spider-like than the saltwater crabs he had seen.

  “Get to the tree-line!” Matt yelled, trying to keep an eye on the crab and search the beach for some kind of weapon at the same time. Driftwood and rocks littered the sand, all of them seeming poor options against the armored hulk of the crab. Still, it was better than facing it with nothing but fingers in his fist. The crab scuttled back and forth, kicking up sand with each step and snapping with its pincers as it advanced. Matt snatched up a solid-looking length of driftwood and set himself.

  Then Alejandra was next to him, her compact form bracing against his left side as she put herself between the crab and their family as well. He glanced down at her, and saw her brown eyes like spearpoints, flinty and focused.

  “I said to run,” she growled.

  “I heard,” he replied, not looking away from the crab. “Decided you weren’t talking to me.”

  The crab scuttled forward in a fast zig-zag and lashed out with one claw, striking from Matt’s right. Matt jumped back just out of range, and heard the thunderous ‘clack’ as the pincer snapped closed where his head had been. He felt the breeze from it pass over his head, and he instinctively struck out with his driftwood club. The wood connected with the pincer with a loud Crack, but other than making the claw jerk away in what he was fairly sure was surprise, there was no other reaction.

  “Keep it busy ‘til the kids are safe, then run?” he asked Allie as they moved together, back and forth, positioning themselves always between the crab and the kids.

  “I like that plan,” Allie said, still watching the crab. “See how it moves? It’s fastest side-to-side. Don’t let it catch you by surprise.”

  “Right.”

  It became a kind of dance. He or Allie would keep the thing’s attention and dodge out of the way of its attacks, then the other would strike out and draw attention away before the crab could follow up.

  A cry of pain from behind them made both parents’ heads whip around. Lucas lay prone on the ground halfway up the beach, clutching at his bare and bleeding foot. His sisters and Dinah were beside him, yelling for him to stand and trying to drag him to his feet.

  Distractions are dangerous on the job site, he heard his mind tell him matter-of-factly, and his eyes bugged out. On pure instinct he threw himself forward, and felt the hiss of air just above his head as the crab’s claw snapped shut in what would have been a decapitating attack if he hadn’t moved.

  “Matt!” Allie’s voice cracked with fear. He hit the sand hard and rolled, still moving on instinct. The crab must have been right behind him, because he felt its feet stomping down into the sand, trying to impale him as he kept desperately rolling.

  Then there came a loud klonk sound, and the crab made its first noise. A high pitched squeal sounded, and the legs stopped trying to stamp on him, giving him just enough time to clamber back to his feet. His club was a good ten feet away, out of reach. He looked up just in time to see Allie scoop up a softball-sized rock from the sand and hurl it with all the force of a major-league pitcher at the crab’s eye-stalks. The crab squealed again and lifted a claw to deflect the thrown rock, protecting its–

  Vulnerable spot. Find the vulnerable spots.

  “Mom, dad, Lucas is hurt! He can’t walk!” Olivia’s voice was panicked.

  “Pick him up and get to the trees,” Matt barked. “You and Bel. Now!”

  “Come on, Cabron,” Allie hollered, throwing more rocks at the crab. “Come and get me!”

  * * *

  The War sang in Allie’s veins, the same as back in the desert and yet completely different.

  Her weapons were rocks and sticks instead of her trusty M4. She had no grenades, no flak jacket, no helmet. No squaddies backing her up–Except her husband was here, fighting side by side with her to protect her kids.

  And he kind of sucked at it.

  A part of her watched him scrabble away from the monster crab even as she grabbed for more stones to throw. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated, his tactics non-existent. He was like… Well. Like a civilian. Untrained, unready, thrust into a combat situation where his natural instincts would more than likely get him killed–

  Matt got his hands on another long piece of driftwood, took it in a double-handed grip, ducked under a pincer-snap, two-stepped forward like an olympic javelin-thrower in his windup, and swung like Shohei Ohtani on his best day. The wood connected with one of the crab’s leg joints and made a very satisfying crunchy crack on impact. The crab let out a high-pitched keen and staggered back, limping.

  Alejandra blinked, staring at her husband in surprise.

  Matt charged in after the crab, ducked under a pincer snap, and drove the narrow end of his club like a spear into the already-damaged leg joint. There was a wet squelch as the wood jammed deep into the joint, and an even wetter popping nose as Matt shoved up on the club with all his weight like a lever, and the crab’s leg separated at the joint.

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  The crab screamed again and thrashed wildly. Matt managed to dodge a wild kick from an undamaged leg, but then a pincer came in from the side and slammed hard into his chest, lifting off his feet and sending him rolling almost a dozen feet across the sand.

  “Dad!” She heard Olivia scream from behind her, but tuned it out. Her kids were safe, or as safe as they could be for now. Matty was the one in trouble. She dropped the small rocks she’d been throwing–they were good for distraction, but the crab was wholly focused on Matt now and Allie doubted it would be distracted again. She had to get in there with something more effective.

  Time dilated to a crawl as her war brain evaluated the options. Only two types of weapons were close to hand. Driftwood clubs were good for damaging the more fragile pieces of the crab, but they were useless for getting through that armored carapace. She might be able to do something like what Matty had done, jam a makeshift spear into a soft part, but the only soft part she saw was at the joints and around the mouth and eyes, all of which were small targets and difficult to get to.

  A larger rock was nearby, dark-colored and half-buried in the sand. It was smooth and heavy-looking, a little bit larger than a bowling ball and coming to a tapered point on one end. She quick-stepped over to it and tried to lift it. It was heavy, but not as bad as she had feared. But it was awkward as hell. She couldn’t get a good grip on it.

  Not with just her bare hands, anyway.

  * * *

  This is not how I thought I would die.

  The thought drifted almost lazily across Matt’s mind as he struggled back to his feet and turned to face the skittering behemoth closing in on him. His chest stung like crazy from where he’d take the pincer in the chest, and he was bleeding from several small puncture wounds where spines on the crab’s claw had pierced his flesh. To say nothing of the scrapes and abrasions he’d just collected from getting batted halfway up the beach and across the sand.

  He was breathing hard, and he could feel his legs getting rubbery. He wasn’t used to this kind of exertion. And the shifting sand under his feet just made it all the harder to keep his balance and speed. The construction site was never this frenetic, even on its worst days.

  The crab scuttled forward cautiously, both its eyes locked on him and its pincers clacking menacingly. Matt set his jaw and gripped his driftwood, which seemed an incredibly poor weapon right at this moment. He’d gotten lucky with that hit on its leg, but it was more cautious of him now, and he doubted he’d get another opening like that.

  He hoped his kids had gotten away safe. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the crab to check.

  The crab lunged forward, and Matt danced back, swinging his club with both hands to knock aside the grasping claws–but this time the crab was ready, and while one pincer took the club’s blow the other one shot forward lightning fast and snapped closed around the heavy driftwood. The wood held up and didn’t snap in half, but Matt lost his grip and let out a cry of dismay as the crab wrenched it from his hand.

  He scrabbled backwards as the crab pressed its advantage, its free claw snapping and grasping at him, trying to clamp down on his flesh wherever it could. Matt puffed and wheezed, feeling his heart thundering in his chest and sweat pouring down his body. He was losing steam fast. Couldn’t keep this up for much longer.

  He lost his footing. Tripped and fell to his backside. The crab loomed over him, pincer reaching…

  CRUNCH!

  The sound was like a sledgehammer slamming into a brick made of cellophane, full of crackle and crunch and the sound of something heavy. The crab squealed and tried to spin around, but its injured leg slowed its progress, and the sound came again.

  WHUNCH!

  The crab skittered sideways, limping and squealing, and Matt saw what had hit the crustacean. Allie stood there, topless except for her bra, her shirt wrapped around a heavy oblong rock and wielded like a makeshift flail.

  “Hi honey!” she crowed as she whirled the awkward weapon around and sent it caroming into the crab’s nearest leg, crushing through the exoskeleton and nearly snapping it off from force alone. “I’m home!”

  Matt felt a feral grin stretch across his face as he levered himself back to his feet, panting hard.

  “That’s a new look for you dear,” he said between gasping breaths, feeling a wild insane laugh bubbling up inside his chest.

  “You like it?” Allie’s grin matched his. “It’s all the rage in Weird Fantasy Island Monthly!”

  The insane laugh made itself known from Matt’s throat, and he bent to grab another piece of driftwood, this one thicker and shorter like a baseball bat. “I love it! Just needs a grass skirt, and I could die a happy man.”

  They pressed the crab from both sides, Allie spinning and striking like a berserker warrior woman, Matt darting in to catch it in its weak joints as often as he could. It was a brawl, pure and simple. The crab spun and struck, seeking to take down at least one of its opponents before the other could get in and distract it again. But it was slowing down, Allie’s strikes had crushed its shell in places, and its injured legs hampered its mobility.

  Then Matt managed a solid hit on another leg on the same side as its other injured legs. He felt tendons give way with a pop, and the crab stumbled and dropped to the sand, its other legs scrabbling desperately to try and get itself back up before–

  Allie charged in, ducked under a flailing pincer, spun her whole body in a full revolution to build up speed, and brought her shirt-rock straight down on the section of shell directly behind the crab’s eyes. The rock smashed the carapace, sending shards of shell and flesh flying. The crab spasmed wildly, tried to bring its pincers up.

  Allie hit it again. And again.

  On the fifth hit, the crab stopped moving.

  By the eighth hit, it was clear it wouldn’t be moving again.

  * * *

  Alejandra stopped hitting the crab and let her shirt–now a stretched-out and gore-soaked mess–drop from her hands. She was breathing heavily, though not as bad as poor Matty. Her husband looked and sounded like he was about to pass out from exertion. He was soaked with sweat, bleeding from a dozen small punctures and scrapes, was caked with sand, and his brown hair stuck out at odd angles or was matted down with blood and viscera.

  And he had never looked better to her.

  She crossed the distance between them in three fast steps, wrapped her arms around him, and yanked his head down and his lips to hers. The kiss was fierce and hungry and after the barest heartbeat he returned it to her with interest. They stood there for a burning moment, lost in each other. Alejandra could feel the adrenaline still screaming in her veins, could feel the beginnings of hyper-awareness setting in in the aftermath of the battle.

  Then they separated–Matt looking slightly stunned–and looked at each other.

  “Hello there,” he said after a moment, starting to grin like a schoolboy.

  “Hi yourself,” she said, grinning back. Then the grin disappeared as she realized anew that he was bleeding. “You’re hurt.”

  “Not bad,” he said, wincing despite his words. “I’ve had worse on the construction site.”

  “Bull,” she said. “Shirt off. Let me see.”

  “Later,” he replied. We need to check the kids first.”

  She accepted that, reaching down to grab her shirt–then hissing in pain at the first touch of the cotton against her palm. She turned her hand up and saw heavy abrasions from where the shirt must have rubbed hard against her skin.

  “Here, let me,” he said, bending down and grabbing up the shirt and its heavy rock inside. “Nice improvisation,” he added, eyeing the crude weapon thoughtfully.

  “You learn to think fast on the battlefield,” she replied simply, shrugging as they turned back up the beach. Their kids were already rushing out of the treeline, running down the beach towards them.

  “Yeah, I guess you do,” he replied, looking at her with a complicated set of emotions rolling across his features. “Allie–”

  “Later,” she said quietly. “When there is time.”

  He nodded. “Right. First things first.”

  They both turned back to meet their children as they ran up.