Free Antman by Robert V. Adams

were all over her. Then she moved. Arms flailing like sails on a windmill. But they were pouring off the high branches which overhung her, like thick streams of sticky black treacle. Faster than she could brush and shake them off, fresh lumps of the black crawling masses of insects landed on her, hissing and crackling as they dispersed to find a hold anywhere on her skin or clothing. With mandibles and hooked feet they clung on, resisting with all means the force of her wild movements.
    She screamed. She went on screaming for some minutes after she had nearly lost her mind. Until they had completely filled her mouth, crawling, softly nipping, sucking and stickily suffocating her with blood and saliva, secretions of her own nose and mouth which she was unable to cough completely out. Revolted, she crunched and spat ... until her last breath.
     
     

Chapter 6
     
    E-mail Robin to Tom:
     
Meeting at Research Council very productive, had some v. positive responses. Have met up with people who've just returned from where we're going. Incidentally, they've identified new species coleoptera which cd have value in cosmetics. And some parasites which affect people as well as cattle, so the government out there may be willing to pay to pulverise. What do you think about a bid? Attaching bid and abstracts of research into Dorylus for you as promised. Don't suppose there is much you haven't already seen or heard of.
 
R.
     
    E-mail Tom to Robin:
     
Thanks for welcome message. Keep up the good work. You always were great on the PR front, for our unit and for the University! Anyone with sense would make you Ambassador. Pl. send details of those possible research bids. Haven't had time to go through the abstracts in detail yet, but will look forward to them. At first glance some useful stuff. Haven't seen it all before.
 
TF.
     
    E-mail Tom to Robin:
     
PS. By the way, problems over budgets. Review of Centre's future role. Such is life.
 
Forgot to ask – You remember I mentioned apparatus used in first communication experiments, when we met that day in your office. I still can't track it down. Have you any idea when you last saw it?
 
TF.
     
    Underneath Tom's casual manner there was a seriousness reflecting the make or break situation of the department.
     
    E-mail Robin to Tom:
     
Ambassador, no chance. I'd rather be director of external affairs (not my own though. Only punning!) Sorry to hear about financial probs. Bad luck! Can't change our senior managers – more's the pity – they're the root of our problems! Can't help over apparatus. No precise recollections at all. Old age creeping on I expect, though don't mention pre-senile – what is it? My grandfather died of that. Hereditary I believe. Do ask if there's anything else I can do. Good luck. Pl. bear in mind leaving for Heathrow tomorrow. Will be at least 3 days before arrive destination. Till then no news is good news.
 
Ciaow! 
 
R.
     
    *  *  *
     
    Tom crossed the road from the Station. He looked at his watch. Twelve o'clock. He was in good time as he headed for the homely atmosphere of the Beverley Arms where he was due to meet Mrs or Ms Wistow. He wondered which. He allowed himself the thought that she was an attractive young woman.
     
    *  *  *
     
    Sergeant Brill was venting his feelings. PC Paul Morrison was on the receiving end.
    'You say it arrived through the post this morning? That's five bloody hours. I'm telling you, Constable, another delay like this and you'll be looking for another job. Is that clear?'
    'Sorry, sir. I didn't think it was serious. Written by a nutter.'
    'It's not your job to judge seriousness. It's your job to bring material to the attention of a more senior officer. Plenty of serious crimes are committed by so-called nutters. Now get lost doing something useful.'
    'Sir.'
    Brill took the close-written sheets of paper down the corridor and knocked on Detective Inspector Dave Berringham's half-open door:
    'Don't knock, the