Carston awoke in darkness. His head throbbed as though he was still being beaten. When he tried to roll over he realized that his hands were still bound behind his back.

The metallic ring of a lock being thrown startled him. He heard a door creak open, an almost comically stereotypical sound, and then footsteps. Rough hands grabbed him by the arms and hauled him up, then spun him around and sat him down hard on his crude bed. Someone yanked the hood from his head, leaving him dazzled by the sudden illumination. With the muttering of a few words in Spanish someone bent behind him and freed his hands, allowing him at last to rub at his eyes and blink the stars from them.

A thin man in uniform smiled down at him. "Good morning, Mr. Carston!" he said brightly, although there was little in his eyes that hinted at friendliness. "I hope you are rested enough to answer some questions for us."

"Questions?" Carston rubbed at his eyes again, then the fog in his mind lifted and he sat up suddenly. "Did you see him? Did you see Tegu?"

He let out a sudden yelp as another man standing beside him jabbed a nightstick viciously into the small of Carston's back. The thin man frowned and shook his head with a weary sigh. "Let us have my questions first, if you please, Mr. Carston. Afterward, then perhaps I will answer yours. Agreed?"

Carston groaned, clutching at his side. "I...yes, whatever you say," he stammered through a haze of pain. He did not want a repeat of the pummeling he had received the previous day -- if indeed it had only been one day since he had been captured.

The thin man smiled. "Good. Very good. You may call me Lieutenant Vargas if it makes you more comfortable." He withdrew a small notepad and a pencil from his shirt pocket. "I would like to begin by asking what you were doing in a restricted area, alone and without authorization."

"I was...I am a scientist. I was looking for native fauna. I have a research permit. Please, you can look it up."

"Yes, I know of your permit. That still does not explain why you went into the forest alone, though. Surely a man with your experience knows that is not safe."

"But I wasn't alone. I went with a Dr. Sanchez and two of his..." He paused, swallowed, and said more softly, "two guides. I never got their names."

"Dr. Sanchez. Of course. Where is this Dr. Sanchez now, please?"

Carston wanted to tell the truth. He wanted to tell Vargas about the colossal beast that had squashed Sanchez and his hired guns, the beast that Carston had followed through the jungle, had watched while it slaughtered the workers at a logging camp, and in whose hand he had actually sat and lived to tell about it. He sensed somehow, though, that Vargas would not believe him. "I don't know."

For that answer he earned another sharp blow to the back that crumpled him onto his side, his knees curling up to his chest. Vargas shook his head and gestured at the guard to step back. "I really don't like making that sort of thing necessary," he said tiredly. "Please just tell the truth. It will be much easier on both of us, I assure you."

Carston winced against the pain. "Please, it's true," he gasped. "I got separated from them. I've been lost in the jungle. I swear I don't know where he is."

"Separated," Vargas said softly as he scribbled on his pad. "I see. Mr. Carston, you are obviously a very intelligent man and I think that this is not the first expedition you have taken into jungle terrain. How ever could you let yourself become separated so easily from your guides?"

Carston sat up with difficulty. He looked down at his feet and then slowly up to his interrogator. "They tried to kill me," he said grimly. "I was scared, and I ran away."

More writing. "Now, why would they want to kill you, Mr. Carston -- unless, perhaps, they had some reason themselves to be afraid of you? What could make them so afraid that they would want to hurt you?"

"I don't know." He cringed as the guard took a step toward him again. "Or maybe I do! I can't be sure. Sanchez was...he was saying that if he killed me and made it look like some crazy revolutionaries did it, then the U.S. would send aid down here. He kept saying he was sorry but that it was necessary and...and I ran for my life at that point. What else could I do? They were going to shoot me! I ran, and then I got lost."

Vargas nodded. "That is certainly a very intriguing story," he said, tapping his chin thoughtfully with his pencil. "Quite different from the one that Dr. Sanchez told me this morning."

"Sanchez?" Carston blurted out. "But how? He's..."

Vargas leaned forward with a thin smile. "He's...what, Mr. Carston?"

There was no way out. It was a simple trap and he had walked right into it. Carston felt as though his heart was trying to claw its way out of his throat. He sat silently, trembling, and when Vargas repeated the question Carston cleared his throat and whispered, "I would like to speak to a representative of the United States embassy."

He was ready for the blow this time, though it still hurt like hell. Vargas leaned down and seized Carston by the collar and jerked him to his feet. "You are a terrorist, Mr. Carston!" he snarled. "Terrorists do not make demands, and neither does my government offer them any negotiations. Your government's representatives are too busy sleeping with the local whores to care what happens to you. You have no rights in here other than the ones I choose to grant you. Now, you are going to tell me what I want to know or I will teach you what the word agony truly means. Do you understand me clearly, Mr. Carston?"

Carston whimpered in surrender and nodded, and Vargas shoved him back down onto the bed. "I believe, before we were interrupted, that you were going to tell me that Dr. Sanchez is dead. I am right, yes?

Carston gulped and nodded feebly.

"But you did not kill him, did you?"

Carston shook his head.

Vargas tapped his chin again. "Of course you did not kill him. You are not a killer. No, Mr. Carston, you are a jellyfish -- a weak and pathetic jellyfish. You did not kill Dr. Sanchez." He leaned closer, his gaze hard. "But you know who did, don't you?"

Carston nodded. "Yes," he whispered, lowering his gaze.

"Was it Tegu?"

Carston jerked his head up. His jaw dropped. "Oh, my God," he whispered. "Tegu? You know about Tegu?"

Vargas smiled. "I suspected as much. So it was Tegu who killed Dr. Sanchez, you say."

"Yes! Sanchez and both of his guides. It was right in front of me, all at once. God, it was horrible! I don't think he meant to do it though. They were just in his way. I don't think he even saw them." He began to gesture feverishly. "The men in the camp, though, Jesus, I've never seen anything like it. All that blood, and the screams, Sweet Jesus -- but he didn't mean to. I mean, he did, but he's just trying to protect his home. He didn't kill me because he knew I wasn't going to cause any harm. He even protected me, took care of me when I was lost, showed me back to Sanchez's car. I don't know how but he could, he could sense it, you understand? It's the loggers, the, the, the men who...who..."

His voice trailed off. He looked up at Vargas who was peering intently at him and noting every word, and then he glanced at the stone-faced guard. "That...that's really all I know."

"I see." Vargas scribbled a few more notes, and then said, "So you admit that you and Tegu were working together?"

Carston felt ice in his chest. "What? No. No! It's not like that. I'm telling you, I had nothing to do with the men he killed. I would have stopped him if I could, but how could I? You've seen him. He's huge! And he doesn't even understand me when I talk. How the hell could I have possibly stopped him?"

"Mm. That is another question entirely...but I think we are making some progress at last," Vargas said as he flipped to a new page. "So tell me what you know about Tegu: What is his real name? What is his nationality? How many men are with him and where is their headquarters?"

Carston's breath caught. So Vargas really did not know! He still believed that Tegu was simply another fanatical eco-terrorist with a colorful moniker. Carston remembered blurting out the name more than once during his arrest and the subsequent beating he had received. Vargas had simply drawn the most logical conclusion he could.

That made the situation even more perilous. Carston could not tell the real story or his captors would believe he was insane, or lying, or both. They would either lock him away forever or beat him to death where he sat. He dared not lie, though. He had never been a good liar and was certain that Vargas would see right through him.

There was only one way out. Carston had planted an image in Vargas's mind that Vargas believed. If he could nurture that image without arousing suspicion, he might well be able to save his skin. Just give them the truth, he reminded himself, but only the parts that they'll believe. "He...never told me," he said softly. Stick to the truth. "And no, he doesn't speak English, or at least he didn't around me. I couldn't identify his language. I don't know how many men he might have with him. I only saw...only saw a few men here and there but I don't think they were with him. We never went to any sort of camp; we were always in the jungle. After he killed Sanchez and the loggers he...he captured me, held me...held me prisoner. I was sure he was going to kill me too, but instead he took me to the car and let me go. That's when your men found me."

Vargas's gaze had not wavered. "I would almost believe your story," he said evenly, "except for one thing that troubles me. This Tegu should have known that you would be arrested and would probably tell us everything you knew about him. Why would he take the risk of letting you go when it would be so much easier to kill you?"

Carston swallowed. "I honestly don't understand why," he said. He forced himself to meet Vargas's gaze. "I can say one thing for certain, though: Tegu doesn't think the same way you or I do."

There was a long, tense silence before Vargas smirked and leaned back. "That I believe," he said. Nodding to the guard, he pocketed his notepad and pencil. "That is all I need to know for now, Mr. Carston. As I said, I am rather convinced that you are not a killer. This Tegu, though, has been a problem for us for long enough. We intend to see to it that he does not get away from us again."

Carston stood up. "What do you mean? You aren't really going to go after him, are you?" He tensed as Vargas gave him a quizzical look. "I mean, look at how many people he's killed. He'll just do it again. You haven't seen him. He's...he's wild, I can tell you. And I think all he wants is to protect his territ-...er, his home. Can't you just leave him alone instead?"

"Leave him alone?" Vargas snorted. "A murderer who tries to dictate how my country uses its natural resources cannot simply be left alone. Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Carston. We will find him, and I assure you, we will make an example of him. Even as we speak, we are systematically removing his hiding places. When he has nowhere left to hide, we will have our man."

"Removing...what do you mean?"

Vargas smiled and drew in a deep breath. "Smell," he said simply.

Carston did so. The air in the cell was stale, but beneath the odor of mildew and sweat he could smell smoke. Wood smoke. "Oh no. No, you can't be serious..."

"We do what is necessary, Mr. Carston," Vargas said, turning away. "He and the men working with him are killers who must be brought to justice. We will take away their hiding places one at a time, and then we will give them what they deserve. You will be asked to identify him at his trial once he is in our custody, of course."

"No!" Carston shouted but Vargas vanished, closing the door behind him. "No, you can't do that!" he called, but there was no answer. The only sound in the cell was that of his own labored breathing. Slowly Carston sank back onto the bunk. The smell of smoke was growing stronger, and through the tiny window high in the wall he could see a gray pall rising into the sky. The setting sun soon painted the smoke as red as the fires that were burning beneath it, and no stars shone as night fell.

An explosion jolted Carston out of a fitful sleep. Cars were honking their horns outside and hundreds of voices were shouting and chattering near and far. It sounded much like a Carnival celebration, only these voices were more apprehensive, the air itself too tense for a party. "Hey!" Carston called out. There was no answer. "Hey, out there! What's going on?"

Still no reply. Unnerved by the clamor outside, Carston grasped the bunk and dragged it against the far wall of his cell, then jumped upon it and peered through the tiny window. Through its dirty glass he could see a fenced-in courtyard. Beyond it stretched a wide city street, at the end of which rose the tall glass facade of a hotel. The street itself was a jumble of commotion with people scrambling amongst gridlocked vehicles, some of whose drivers abandoned them and joined the anxious crowd. Carston began to worry that yet another political revolution was taking place, but then there was a tremendous explosion, much louder than the one that had woken him. The hotel at the end of the street shuddered and every one of its windows shattered at the same time, sending a storm of glass shards cascading downward. From the center of the building an immense and alien hand suddenly erupted, the claws splaying for a second before raking three long gashes downward through six entire floors. Clouds of dust bloomed from those wounds and from the empty windows as the hotel imploded, collapsing in upon itself and sending a cloud of pulverized cement rolling through the street below. From the billowing veil of destruction a colossal figure emerged, crossing the rubble with one great stride and dusting its hands against one another in an eerily manlike gesture.

"Tegu," Carston whispered in astonishment. "Good God almighty..."

The giant did not pause, nor did he bother with the crunching automobiles or the puny figures that screamed and died beneath his pounding tread. He walked forward, raising his arms and bringing his huge fists crashing down atop two buildings on opposite sides of the street, sending them tumbling in pieces. Another building was gutted with the savage spike that jutted from Tegu's elbow and simply left to sway and topple behind him.

It was just like it had been at the logging camp in the jungle, with Carston as powerless a spectator to the devastation. He watched as Tegu's towering form advanced, head and shoulders rising out of Carston's view until all that was visible were the mighty legs and feet. In only a few long strides they had reached the courtyard that lay between Carston's prison and the street, and there they halted, turning toward a small and ornately gilded church that stood on the corner. People were cramming themselves frantically inside, many with their arms thrown heavenward and hands clasped in desperate prayer. Tegu did not move for the few moments it took for the last of the faithful to disappear into their sanctuary, but the moment they pulled the heavy wooden doors closed behind them he raised a powerful leg and lashed it forward. His foot crashed through the church's stone portico, then withdrew and swept upward to land with a dull boom upon the roof. It withstood the awesome weight for only a second before the entire roof crumbled, crashing down into the building's interior. The shrieks and pleas for salvation were silenced for good as two great hands battered the remaining walls inward, entombing the worshippers beneath a mountain of debris.

Seemingly satisfied, Tegu turned and resumed his march. His legs loomed larger still, their tops vanishing beyond the frame of the window. Carston watched as a gigantic foot crashed down right in front of the courtyard, then rose and rushed forward, the clawed toes tearing up the chain link fence and sweeping it along with them, straight toward the little window through which Carston was staring.

"Get down, you idiot!" a voice shouted. Carston did not immediately recognize it as his own. He obeyed, but sluggishly, his limbs feeling as though they were filled with wet cement. He saw the window's frame grow smaller while Tegu's claws grew larger within it. Then he was staring at the underside of the bunk where a little yellow spider was busily trying to spin a web. Chiracanthium inclusum, he noted, and peered at it in dumb fascination until swirling gray dust obscured it from view. Oddly, he heard no sound at all, not even his own heartbeat. It was like being underwater -- or perhaps like being dead. The silenced persisted until the dust around him began to settle, and as sunlight formed golden shafts through the shroud he could once more hear the sounds of sirens and distant wailing.

Blinking, coughing, Carston slid himself awkwardly from beneath the cot and sat up. Sunshine warmed his face. Dazed, he found himself staring at the nearly perfect outline of Tegu's three toes cut into the wall where the window had once been. The ceiling was gone, and the opposite wall bore the same claw-pattern. Beyond it loomed a tangle of concrete blocks and twisted metal rebar and pieces of office furniture. "Fuck," was all he could say.

Movement caught his eye, and he turned to see the lone figure of a man shuffling through the courtyard outside. The man paused before the deep print Tegu had left behind and stared down into it, brow furrowed, as if unable to comprehend how such a thing could have gotten there. He wore a torn and disheveled but still recognizable uniform. His little notepad was still tucked in his shirt pocket.

"Vargas," Carston said, and felt anger rising up within him. Before he realized it he was pulling himself through the cleft where Tegu's middle toe had crashed through the wall and scrambling down the slope of wreckage and into the courtyard. Teeth bared furiously, he stalked up to the teetering Vargas and seized him by the arms. "You stupid son of a bitch!" he screamed, spittle landing on Vargas's cheek. "You stupid, mindless, fucking bastard! Look what you did! Look around you!" Vargas merely blinked and mouthed a few words, then looked past Carston at the ruins of the police station and furrowed his brow again in confusion. "Do you see that?" Carston bellowed at him. "You did this! You did this! I told you he was just trying to protect his home! You couldn't just leave him alone, could you? Now look what you did! Are you happy? Huh? I said, are you happy, you stupid asshole? Answer me!"

Vargas blinked twice, then slowly his eyes rolled upward and his eyelids fluttered. He let out a soft gurgle and then pitched forward into Carston's arms. Shocked, Carston fumbled to keep his footing as Vargas slid to the ground. The entire back of Vargas's shirt was stained bright red. The back of his skull was gone and jumbled pink and gray flesh could be seen slopping about within.

"Oh, shit," Carston choked, backing away from the twitching corpse. He clapped a hand to his mouth and then spun around as a tremendous crash echoed from behind him. Above the wreckage of the police station an oily black cloud rose skyward, billowing into a mushroom shape. "God...Tegu!"

His mind reeled. The systematic way that Tegu had gone about destroying buildings, how he had deliberately waited for the church to fill before obliterating it -- no, it was inconceivable. Calculation? Deliberation? We will take away their hiding places, Vargas had said, and then we will give them what they deserve.

Carston knew why Tegu had come. He knew as well that the giant would not stop his rampage until the city had been leveled and every man, woman and child killed. And he knew that he would have to find a way to stop it.

How? the rational part of his mind kept screaming as he hurdled huge pieces of wreckage and darted amongst overturned vehicles and deep footprints splashed with grisly red stains. He had no answer. All he knew was that Tegu had sensed somehow that Carston was not an enemy. His only hope was that Tegu would still sense that.

Maybe, he answered back. But he'll kill everyone else if I don't try.

It was not difficult to follow the trail that Tegu left behind him, but it was clear that Carston would never catch up to the huge beast. Unlike the odd game of tag they had previously played in the jungle, Tegu had no interest in letting the man follow him, and in fact had no way of knowing that Carston was even there. Carston recognized, however, that Tegu was not moving in a straight line. He seemed to be targeting the tallest structures first, going from one to the next and smashing whatever he felt like in between. With that realization, a reckless plan formed in Carston's mind. Snatching up an abandoned bicycle, he pedaled furiously toward the tallest building that he could see still standing.

Fleeing people, some burdened with their possessions, hurried past him, some moving in his direction, some against. It was clear that nobody had any idea where the vengeful giant was or which way would lead to safety. Cars plowed into one another head-on at intersections, as did people. Carston wove his way among them, grim and determined, as the gleaming edifice drew closer and closer. When at last he reached the foot of the tower he saw a glass-enclosed stairwell zigzagging its way from the ground floor up to the very top. Perfect! Eagerly he dumped the bicycle, grasped the handle of the front door and pulled hard

The door rattled angrily, locked tight.

At the same time the people in the street behind him all began to run in the same direction. Alarmed, he stepped back from the door and peered in the direction from which they were fleeing, and the color drained from his face. Tegu stood only a few blocks away, framed like Samson between two office towers before shoving them to either side. He gazed impassively downward at the vast herd of terror-stricken humanity stampeding through the manmade canyon, stumbling over and clawing at one another in their desperate flight, and then slowly he began to walk forward. There was nothing in his stride of the ginger, catlike grace that had carried him so silently through the jungle. Now his feet landed hard, shattering the pavement like thin ice, each thundering step carefully aimed to land at the trailing edge of the crowd. His purpose was appallingly clear: he was driving them. It was as Carston had feared. Unsatisfied with demolishing their homes, Tegu had shifted the focus of his anger toward the inhabitants themselves.

More and more people bumped past him, mad with fear, the trickle of humanity growing steadily as Tegu stomped closer. Frantically Carston tugged at the unyielding door handle. If he was swept up into that rushing tide he would become nothing more than another speck amongst thousands and would suffer along with them whatever fate Tegu intended for them. Desperate, he wrenched the brake handle off of the bicycle and tried in vain to pry the door open.

The leading edge of the mob reached him. One man grabbed at Carston's arm and tried to pull him away while making frantic motions toward the approaching monster with his other hand. Carston shoved him away and kicked at the door, tears of anguish flowing down his cheeks. "Tegu!" he shouted, waving his arms over his head as bodies thudded against him and threatened to knock him over. "Tegu, down here!"

For a moment it seemed that the giant's gaze fell upon him, but then it drifted away. Tegu continued to advance. Carston clung to the handle of the door to keep from being carried away by the crowd. Despairingly he began to beat at the glass with his fist, but it stubbornly resisted every blow.

A shot rang out, and then several more. Carston saw a wild-eyed man struggling along with everyone else while brandishing a pistol. Every few steps he would turn and fire blindly toward the looming beast. Tegu did not flinch, did not even seem to feel the bullets striking his thick hide, and took another step closer. Carston felt his grip on the door handle slipping as he was battered by the endless stream of people. His strength was failing.

There was another shot, much closer. Another man was firing at the giant, his bullets having no more effect than raindrops. Carston watched as that man paused to reload, turned and raised his arm to fire again. One shot...two...and then Carston thrust his hand forward and seized the man's arm, yanking it toward him. The third shot left his ear ringing as the bullet shattered the glass door into a thousand glittering shards.

Carston struggled through the empty door frame. Behind him dozens of others tried to follow, but in their rush they simply piled up in the opening, their faces contorted in agony as hundreds of bodies pushed against them from behind. There was no time to look back, though. Carston ran for the stairs and mounted them three at a time, clawing his way along the banister as he spun from one landing to the next. The scene outside whirled wildly past his vision: the crowd surging through the street, packing themselves in between the concrete walls, anguished cries as others tried to climb atop them; Tegu's immense leg sweeping into view and pausing as the giant studied the puny beings he had rounded up. The same huge foot that had freed Carston from prison now rose into the air and cast a menacing shadow over the helpless mob, intent on crushing them like so many swarming insects.

Carston burst through the steel door that led to the roof and charged toward the colossal being that loomed before him. "Tegu!" he shouted, his throat burning with the effort of being heard above the wailing of the doomed humanity below. He flailed his arms like a madman. "Tegu!"

A gleaming eye shifted toward him, narrowing in what could only be annoyance. Ignoring the crowd for the moment the giant turned toward the paltry thing that leaped and waved and squeaked at him from the rooftop. A colossal hand rose up, fingers splayed, claws that could easily knife through concrete bared to their fullest. Their shadow fell upon Carston as they rushed downward and then closed firmly around his body, squeezing all of the breath from him and threatening to snap every one of his bones. He was dragged into the air, eyes watering as the wind whipped past his face, carried close to a baleful eye in which his red and bug-eyed face was briefly reflected, and then he was helplessly falling.

He landed hard in Tegu's palm and dropped to his knees, the wind knocked out of him. It was several long seconds before he could gulp a breath into his burning lungs, and painfully he struggled to his feet. "Tegu," he croaked. "It's me," and then he added idiotically, "the guy from the jungle. Jesus, I hope you remember. If you don't...I'm a dead man, I guess."

Tegu's head tilted. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but he made no move to squash the man in his hand, as easy as it would have been for him. Carston swallowed and rubbed at his aching ribs. "You've made your point," he wheezed. "They understand now. Don't hurt them. Please."

The reptilian eyes glanced briefly at the tiny people struggling below and then returned to Carston, who choked in disbelief. "Don't tell me you understood that," he whispered, and then raised his voice. "There's no need to kill them. They didn't know what they were doing, but they'll listen now. They know who owns the forest."

The distant staccato thud of rotor blades interrupted him. Both Tegu and Carston peered into the distance to see helicopters swarming over the rooftops. Little armored vehicles careened through the streets, and tiny toy soldiers began to spill out of them and take up ranks. Carston turned back to Tegu, and for the first time noticed some tiny red dots scattered over Tegu's chest and neck. He realized that they were bullet holes, tiny pinpricks that the great beast probably barely noticed.

It was not handguns that were being loaded up below, however, and if Tegu's skin could be pierced by small bullets, then he might very well be gravely wounded by heavier weaponry. Carston felt a surge of fear. "Tegu!" he shouted. "We've got to get out of here. If you can understand me -- I don't know how, but for God's sake, just go."

Tegu did not move. He simply stared at the tiny man in his hand. "I said go. Shoo! Piss off!" Carston bawled. "Come on, get the hell out of here!" He started to wave his arms wildly in the direction of the distant jungle, where he could see smoke still curling lazily from the raw boundary where the fires had stopped, and where the men who had set them no doubt lay dead en masse. "That way! That way, you big dumb...whatever...why won't you go? They'll kill you! Don't you ..."

The great hand suddenly closed around him, mercifully avoiding crushing him while still very effectively silencing his miniscule tirade. Tegu paid no heed to the soldiers who were closing in, but instead lowered his gaze to the people still trapped at his feet Slowly he lifted his head and turned it from side to side, scanning the undamaged portion of the city that lay before him, then returned his attention to the crowd below. A quiet growl rumbled from his throat as he lowered his free hand down and gripped between his legs. A torrent of liquid burst forth, crashing down into the thick of the crowd and knocking them around like bowling pins. Tegu pivoted his body slowly, the stream battering a winding path through their midst while they struggled in vain to shield themselves from the deluge.

The message was unmistakable. When he was finished Tegu simply turned away, and with Carston still clutched safely in his hand, strode through the decimated portion of the city and headed for the distant forest.

Machine gunners clutched the stocks of their weapons as they bounced along, perched on the backs of their jeeps. The monster was fast, but they were faster, and it was a big enough target that there would be no way they could miss once it was in range. They converged by the dozens while the helicopters overhead armed their missiles. The beast had just reached the edge of the forest when the order to fire was given.

In the blink of an eye it was gone, vanished before their eyes even as they lined him up in their sights. The jeeps lurched to a halt while their confused gunners gaped at the wall of trees whose leaves were undisturbed by any breeze, and in whose branches colorful birds squawked and quarreled and peered curiously back at the men who were staring at them.