The air is filled with the sound of carnivorous plants as their jaws snap wetly at the sky. The sound is getting on Sarra’s nerves and when another of the heads swoops in too close she blasts it away with energy from her hands. It sprays like a busted watermelon onto the faces of the plants behind it and—for a moment—they pull away.
“Hold out your hands,” Chatravati tells her. Then he says to the others: “Follow Sarra.”
Sarra extends her arms out at her sides as though she’s balancing on a tightrope. Her palms crackle with energy and the fiery brilliance of them causes the closest row of plants to retreat.
Jeremy follows her and Chatravati moves after him. Marcus stops to scoop up Farmer Joe’s rifle from the ground and spins it like a marching baton to fend off any plants that get too close.
They move across the farm like this, their heads low. Now and then Sarra blasts another section of plant, charring the field, but there’s far too many for her to burn through them all.
“Head for the barn,” Chatravati urges. Marcus clobbers another plant as it darts towards them. The barn looms ahead and is made of the same rotten wood as the fence that Marcus kicked apart earlier… but at least the alien plants haven’t infested it yet.
Jeremy suddenly pushes Sarra roughly to the ground. Her hands strike dirt and the fire goes out of them. Above her, one of the plants drops its head to take a bite out of Jeremy, but stops only inches away from the teenager’s face. Its jaws drip wetness onto Sarra’s back.
Jeremy stares directly into the mouth of the creature, past row after row of needle-sharp teeth and into the pulpy redness of its jaw—but it doesn’t bite him. Then Marcus knocks the head away with the butt of the rifle and Chatravati helps Sarra to her feet.
“Get in the barn!” Marcus yells, since they are close enough now to make a run for it.
They bustle in and Marcus heaves the wooden door closed behind them. Sunlight filters in through the cracks between the rotted wood planks and a window set high in the front wall, but most of the barn is obscured by the lumpish shadows of collapsed hay bales and rusted farm equipment.
Several plants begin battering the sides of the barn, causing the wood to creak and splinter, but the walls are holding up for now. Marcus inspects a row of tools leaning against one wall and hands out the ones that he thinks will make the most effective weapons: Chatravati gets a pitchfork and Jeremy a spade.
Sarra’s hands are starting to glow again, but she knows that she can’t use them here (or even touch anything) or else the barn will go up like a firecracker. Then Marcus discovers a row of half-filled fuel tins sitting beside a gutted tractor and asks if she remembers the time that they went skeet shooting.