The agent put a gun to Zach’s face but didn’t fire. His eyes went wide with recognition.

“Barrows? What the hell are you doing—”

That was as much as he got out before the doors behind them blew apart.

Another one of the things. Dead skin hanging off overstressed muscles, the corpse barely able to contain all its power.

And they moved a lot slower in the movies, Zach thought sourly.

He and the agent—Haney, that was his name—ran.

Zach slammed the doors of the Diplomatic Reception Room.

“Where the hell are the CAT teams?” he yelled.

Then they both looked around and saw the answer.

Corpses. But these ones weren’t going to get up again. They looked like they had been ripped apart. The hall where the president greeted foreign leaders had been turned into an abattoir. Bits of human flesh and blood spread out over the wallpaper selected by Jackie Kennedy.

“We have to get out of here,” Zach said, pulling at Haney’s arm.

“You go,” Haney said, slinging a metal tube off his shoulder. “I’ve got to get the president’s family.”

“No, listen—”

“Go ahead and run, Barrows,” Haney shouted at him.

Zach wanted to scream back, That’s not what I meant . . .

Then it was too late.

Because Zach was right. The creature behind them couldn’t have done all this. It was headed in the opposite direction.

There was another one. And it was in the room with them.