“No time,” Brianna mocked. “Please. Just go limp.”

“Go limp?”

“Yeah: limp. And oh, by the way: it’s going to hurt.”

He never saw her move but he felt the linebacker impact as she hit him at blazing speed.

Caine went flying. His shirt was ripped from his back. He spun crazily and fell hard onto the lawn. The bug armies crashed together like two waves behind him. Like the Red Sea closing behind Moses.

Caine tried to stand, but already there were hands on his back pushing him, propelling him forward at insane speed. He hit the doorjamb on his way through. The bugs swarmed toward the door but it had already been slammed, locked, and barricaded with a chair.

Brianna stood in the middle of the room, examining her fingernails with theatrical calm.

“The whole superspeed thing comes in helpful at times,” she said.

“I think you broke my back,” Caine said. He felt sharp pain in his ribs. But it was very much better than the alternative.

Plague, Chapter 37