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Samhain, under penalty of execution. Not to a friend. Not even to a wife. My own wife doesn’t even know about this.”
    Not seeing an alternative, Andy held up his right hand, as if he were testifying in court.
    “Fine. I swear.”
    “General Murdoch will provide the details, he knows them better than I. Suffice to say, this may be the single most important project this country, maybe even the world, has ever been involved with. I wish you luck, and God bless.”
    The screen went blank.
    “It’s aliens, isn’t it?” Andy turned to Race. “You’ve got aliens here.”
    “Well, no. But back in ‘47 we had a hermit who lived in the mountains, he found our secret entrance and got himself a good look inside. Before we could shut him up he was blabbing to everyone within earshot. So we faked a UFO landing two hundred miles away in Roswell to divert attention.”
    Andy rubbed his temples.
    “You want some aspirin?” Race asked. “Or breakfast, maybe?”
    “What I want, after swearing under the penalty of execution, is to know what the hell I’m doing here.”
    “They say an image is worth a thousand words. Follow me.”
    Race headed to the Red Door and Andy loped behind. The Red Arm hallway looked exactly like the Yellow Arm; white and sterile with numbered doors, this time with the word RED stenciled on them. But after a few dozen yards Andy noted a big difference. Race had to stop at a barrier that blocked the hallway. It resembled a prison door, with thick vertical steel bars set in a heavy frame.
    “Titanium,” Race said as he pressed some numbers on a keypad embedded in the wall. “They could stop a charging rhino.”
    There was a beep and a metallic sound as the door unlocked. The door swung inward, and Race held it open for Andy, then closed it behind him with loud clang. It made Andy feel trapped. They came up on another set of bars fifty yards further up.
    “Why two sets?” Andy asked. “You have a rhino problem here?”
    “Well, it’s got horns, that’s for sure.”
    Race opened the second gate and the Red Arm came to an abrupt end at doors Red 13 and Red 14.
    “He was found in Panama in 1906, by a team digging the canal,” Race said. “For the past hundred years he’s been in some kind of deep sleep, like a coma. Up until last week. Last week he woke up.”
    “He?”
    “We call him Bub. He’s trying to communicate, but we don’t know what he’s saying.”
    Andy’s apprehension increased with every breath. He had an irrational urge to turn around and run. Or maybe it wasn’t so irrational.
    “Is Bub human?” Andy asked.
    “Nope,” Race grinned. The General was clearly enjoying himself.
Didn’t have visitors too often,
Andy guessed.
    “So what is he?”
    “See for yourself.”
    Race opened door Red 14, and Andy almost gagged on the animal stench. This wasn’t a farm smell. This was a musky, sickly, sweet and sour, big carnivore smell.
    Forcing himself to move, Andy took two steps into the room. It was large, the size of a gymnasium, the front half filled with medical equipment. The back half had been partitioned off with a massive translucent barrier, glass or plastic. Behind the glass was…
    “Jesus Christ,” Andy said.
    Andy’s mind couldn’t process what he was seeing. The teeth. The eyes. The claws.
    This thing wasn’t supposed to exist in real life.
    “Biix a beel,” Bub said.
    Andy flew past Race, heading for the hallway.
    “I promise not to tell anyone.”
    “Mr. Dennison…”
    Andy met up with the titanium bars and used some of his favorite curses from several different languages. His palms were soaked with sweat, and he’d begun to hyperventilate.
    Race caught up, placing a hand on his shoulder.
    “I apologize for not preparing you, but I’m an old man with so little pleasure in my life, and it’s such a hoot watching people see Bub for the first time.”
    Andy braced the older man.
    “Bub. Beelzebub. You’ve got Satan in there.”
    “Possibly. Father