Drake laughed and swung his whip arm. He wrapped around Jack’s leg and should have tripped him, but he hadn’t counted on Jack’s strength. Instead of tripping Jack, it was Drake who went flying face-first into the ground.

He released, rolled, and stood up in one swift, fluid move, but it was humiliating.

Drake’s whip hand snapped, hit Jack’s back, and drew a gasp of pain. But Jack didn’t stop; he plowed straight on into the melee of bugs. He grabbed the nearest leg and yanked it hard.

The leg came away. It didn’t stop the creature or even seem to affect it, but it gave Jack a weapon.

Plague, Chapter 41