The first to respond were the teachers and students hiding in the school.
The school had been one of the places hit hardest by the cockroach disaster. When the swarms had stormed the cafeteria and attacked the students, most were defenseless, and many teachers and students had been bitten to death. Yet a small group had managed to escape in the chaos, slipping into the cafeteria’s cold storage room. The freezing temperatures had nearly numbed them, but that cold had also lowered their body heat enough to protect them from the cockroaches’ attacks—they had survived until now.
One by one, other fortunate survivors were drawn out by the broadcast, running from their hiding spots—up in the trees, into the ornamental lake, out of closets, even out of trash bins. Though they emerged battered and messy, some bearing horrific burns and bite marks, the fact that they were still alive already made them far luckier than the many victims scattered everywhere.
The survivors heeded the call and came outside. The adults quickly organized themselves, shepherding students in groups onto several intact vehicles, driving them out of the school and away from the town—further was better.
Those who remained behind looked over the blood and debris-strewn streets, teeth gritting in determination, and instinctively raised their weapons.
This was Lemot, a town built on the desert. Life here had always demanded resilience: enduring blistering heat, persistent drought, and frequent sandstorms, constantly battling the harsh environment. These people were never timid cowards. Every one of them carried the indomitable spirit of desert-born blood. And those fallen to the ground weren’t unlucky strangers—they were students, colleagues, neighbors, friends.
The school’s broadcast reached not only the campus but the surrounding area as well.
Even those who had remained hidden in their homes finally emerged.
People began to scatter, coordinating instinctively. Those less physically capable carried messages, spreading the broadcast word from street to alley; those with first-aid knowledge carried medical kits, going house to house to treat the wounded; the rest divided up the work. Housewives rolled up their sleeves, using brooms and mops to sweep the hidden cockroaches into piles. Young and strong adults armed themselves with alcohol, gasoline, sharp knives, and awls. Some even got in vehicles, crushing mountains of cockroaches beneath their wheels…
Old John’s truck rumbled onto the town’s main street. The modified loudspeakers buzzed and vibrated, carrying the voices of resistance into every alley and corner.
First came James’s clear, commanding voice. He told the townspeople that they had only two hours—by 5 p.m., the invading creatures had to be eliminated to save their town.
Then came Everly’s young, earnest voice. The little girl carefully shared her discoveries, setting an example for the timid. She showed that with fire and sharp weapons, even a slender, fragile child like her could easily take a cockroach’s life.
Finally, the familiar voice of the townspeople’s friend, Old John, spoke. This generous elder had brought a truckload of gasoline and promised a safety net for everyone: if any townsperson couldn’t kill cockroaches on their own, they could come to the central square and he would take care of it.
The modified truck rolled over the town’s uneven streets, its wheels crunching over the pockmarked ground. Wherever it passed, small flames erupted, spreading fire across the town.
As they drove past the town hall, they encountered the trapped mayor and his entourage. Soon, the town’s internal broadcast came alive. The severely injured mayor braced himself against a counter, his gaunt frame straining with extraordinary force, his throat wheezing like a bellows, brown eyes blazing fiercely. He clenched his teeth and spoke slowly, each word deliberate:
“Resist! For the town—resist! For your loved ones—resist! For tomorrow—resist!”
“Resist! Resist! Resist!”
The town’s fires grew higher and brighter, thick smoke curling into the sky like a prayer carried to the fallen townspeople.
By 4:30 p.m., as more and more townspeople joined the effort, the flames in the central square were blazing too.
The foundation, originally dug to hold the meteorite, wasn’t first lifted by the heavy stones—but by roaring flames. Within the blaze, countless cockroaches, caught halfway through molting, writhed painfully, trapped in their hard shells. Their grotesque mandibles snapped open and shut, screaming silently at the sky, as the fire charred them into blackened husks.
Amid the crackling and popping of burning limbs, the stench of scorched protein grew stronger, filling the entire square. The flames, carrying heat and flying ash, swept across every face, yet no one flinched or stepped back.
People watched with grim satisfaction as those filthy, vile, contemptible creatures died in batches, reduced to ash. Their hearts, soaked in fear and torment, seemed finally to find a small measure of relief.
But then—the ground of the central square suddenly shook.
At first, people thought they were dizzy from standing too long. But soon, horror struck: the tiles beneath their feet began to bulge, rising rapidly. One, then another, then another… Over half the square’s tiles—and the freshly laid foundation beneath them—shook violently upward. Bricks, soil, and burning cockroach corpses cascaded down, and through the swirling dust, a massive head emerged.
It was a giant, reddish-brown cockroach, flattened and elongated, with shiny wings stretching across its back, rising from a pit in the ground.
So all along, beneath the town, hidden underground, there had been a gigantic adult cockroach mother…
“I should have realized… why did it take so long to notice?! These nymphs are molting all at the same time, clearly born in the same batch. That means they share a common… ‘mother’!” James muttered, stunned.
Everly felt her chest tighten. She and Old John were laypeople—they couldn’t have recognized the pattern. But James, an expert… how could he have missed something so obvious? Honestly, he was really unreliable…
“Ahhhh!” People screamed in panic.
“Run! Get inside the buildings!”
Seeing some still frozen in place, Old John bellowed at them, his voice shaking the air.
Startled, the townspeople grabbed one another, ducked low, and bolted toward the nearest buildings.
Old John didn’t run. He handed Everly over to James, then grabbed a nearly empty gasoline can. Twisting off the cap, he flung it with all his strength toward the giant cockroach not far away.
The fuel arced through the air, splashing out of the can—and sparks falling from the cockroach’s body ignited it mid-flight. The resulting flaming rope of gasoline fell directly onto the cockroach’s head and thoracic shield.
“Boom!”
The red flames erupted instantly. Old John drew his pistol and, alongside a few of the town’s police, began shooting at the cockroach’s back plate.
“Bang! Bang! Bang, bang!”
Shot after shot, the cockroach remained completely unharmed. Worse, one officer, standing in the wrong position, was hit in the lower leg by ricocheted bullets and couldn’t continue fighting.
“It’s no use! John—it’s not afraid of fire! It must have co-evolved!” James shouted from inside a house, clutching the edge of a bed and yelling out.
Everly immediately understood. According to James’s earlier theory, these cockroaches possessed a terrifying co-evolution mechanism: when many individuals die for the same reason, the chemicals they release trigger targeted evolution in the surviving individuals. The small cockroaches that had been burned in large numbers earlier must have released such substances, making the giant mother cockroach immune to flames.
“What do we do now? Is there any other way to take it down?” Everly asked urgently, pressing James for answers.
Of course—he was the protagonist. If anyone on the scene could take on a giant cockroach, it had to be James!
“I… I’ll think, let me think!” James clutched his head, muttering under his breath, reciting bits of textbook knowledge to himself.
Everly watched him anxiously for a while, but soon gave up waiting and turned her gaze to the window outside.
Thanks to Old John and the others buying time, everyone on the square had already evacuated, slipping out one by one through the back doors of the buildings. To avoid drawing the cockroach’s attention, they made as little noise as possible, covering their mouths and keeping their bodies pressed low to the ground.
On the empty street, the few remaining humans had become the primary targets for the giant cockroach. Old John signaled to a handful of county officers. They crouched low and ran off in separate directions.
The giant cockroach reacted immediately. Its massive head lifted high, and its shiny wings snapped open with a loud flap-flap-flap. The creature—huge enough to rival a yacht—leapt into the air and, moving with terrifying speed, lunged at one of the officers.
“Ah!” The officer didn’t even have time to react. The cockroach’s gaping mandibles clamped around him, snapping him in half with a sickening crack. Blood and entrails spilled across the ground.
“Bob! No!”
A shrill scream came from one of the buildings, quickly stifled by those nearby. The remaining people, like rabbits in a burrow, trembled in place, barely daring to breathe, hoping the predator would move on.
But hope was in vain.
The mutated cockroaches in town all possessed infrared sensing abilities—and the giant cockroach was no exception. After devouring the officer’s body, it pivoted, its glossy, black compound eyes locking onto the area with the most humans: the clothing store. With a single powerful beat of its wings, it charged at the glass storefront, running with terrifying speed.
“Run! Run! Scatter!”
Someone shouted, and everyone hiding in the nearby buildings panicked, scattering like mice chased by a cat.
Seeing the situation getting out of control, Old John immediately rushed into one of the buildings and found Everly. He grabbed his granddaughter, ready to escape—just as James, who had been thinking for a long moment, suddenly slapped his palm in excitement and jumped up.
“I’ve got it! Boric acid—boric acid!”
“Forget the boric acid! The giant cockroach is about to bite your butt!”
Everly yanked hard on the hem of James’s shirt. In a single surprising motion, she dragged the tall, imposing man down like a limp, panting dog.
Before James could protest, a deafening crash shook the walls. The windowsill he had just leaned on was obliterated by the giant cockroach smashing into it.
“Oh, Everly, thank—” James stammered, eyes wide in disbelief at the destruction behind him.
“Don’t thank me, just move!”
Everly didn’t pause for pleasantries. She shouted, smacking each of the two adults on the back of their waists to signal them to follow. She darted behind Old John, mimicking her grandfather’s moves, weaving left and right through the complex building terrain.
Finally, before the giant cockroach could begin its attack, the four of them burst out of the house and jumped into the nearby black pickup.
“Go! Go! Go!”
James yelled, and the truck roared away, carrying all four straight toward the western edge of the town.