One
“I want to thank you for letting me meet you, “the interviewer says with a smile. A young couple in their late 20s sat on a black leather couch across from him. “We were surprised to get your phone call; we did not think many people were interested in the story,” the young man stated. The interviewer smiled awkwardly, “My editors and I are very interested in it, to say the least,” the interviewer responded. The couple felt oddly relieved that someone was interested in their encounter. “So,” said the interviewer, taking a recording device out of his suit breast pocket and placing it on the coffee table. He cleared his throat, “Tell me what happened on that July day and night.” The couple held hands, and the young woman cleared her throat and began.
It was the July 4th weekend, and Brian and I were going to see his family in College Station, Texas, for a week. Brian had not seen his family in a year and a half since our move to Southern California for work. So we decided to take a road trip instead of flying. We still regret that choice to this day. It was day three of a road trip; we had just passed into Texas. We decided to get a room for the night. We had shared the driving for several hours and were starting to get tired. We would push into the next town when we saw a sign for the roadside hotel where we could stay for the night. We were looking for a bed and a TV for the night; we had eaten a late lunch and brought snacks, so we didn’t need food. It was another 3-mile drive to the hotel. After driving since 4 am, we were both exhausted. We pulled up to a roadside hotel on the outskirts of Route 66. It appeared to have seen better days, yet we were so exhausted that we all wanted a bed to sleep in.
The structure was a 1930s-style two-story building with a paint job that appeared to be from the 1970s, featuring a mix of red, green, and white. We pulled into the lot, and there was only one other car —a late 1990s station wagon. Brian was driving, and we were happy to have found a place. The hotel gave me a Bates Motel vibe, but I pushed those thoughts aside due to exhaustion. Brian has injected himself into his wife’s story. The interviewer smiled at the comment, revealing tarnished teeth. It gave Jennifer, the storyteller, a chilling feeling, yet she ignored it, thinking the interviewer needed better dental care. The interviewer clicked his tongue and stated, “Continue, please.” He leaned in with much interest, eager for Jennifer to continue the story. It took a moment for her thoughts to get back on track after the interviewer’s smile.
Jennifer took a deep breath and then continued the story. So we parked. “It looks like this will be the place for the night,” I stated to Brian as we got out of the car and stretched after a long drive. Being on the road for as many hours as we had, the stretch felt good to both of us. “Let’s get a room”, Brian stated. We then walked towards the motel office as the gravel of the unpaved parking lot crunched under our feet in the low-hanging Texas sun. In the distance, the picturesque southeastern Texas hills and valleys went as far as my eyes could see. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching us as we walked to the office. Brian and I finally arrived at the hotel’s office, where the door and windows appeared as if they had not been cleaned in years. Brian and I pushed the door open despite the office’s dirty appearance, and the bell attached to the door jingled, announcing our arrival. The office was small, measuring 6 feet by 1.83 feet in width, and painted a rust-brown. Two beat-up leather chairs sat in one corner, and on the other stood a run-down vending machine that saw better days. The rug was red, and the counter matched the color of the walls. Behind the desk was a doorway covered by a sheet; in front of that was a station, and to the side of that stood a closed wooden cabinet that stored room keys. The two of us could hear the TV playing behind the covered doorway. The sound of shots indicated an old-time western. A bell sat on the counter; it looked old and beat up. We approached the bell, and I said, “Let’s ring the bell”. Brian nodded in agreement, so I took my right hand and pressed down on the bell. It was cold to the touch; I pushed that thought out and rang the bell.
Brian and I heard a chair creak from behind the curtain, and a person behind the curtain just sat up in the chair. We waited with anticipation for the curtain to open. The curtain opened with a swoosh, and an older white man stood in the doorway. The old Texan wore a stained white shirt, black suspenders attached to matching pants, and worn-out leather cowboy boots on his feet. The man before Brian and me dressed as I had imagined a true Texan would, minus the cowboy hat. He peered at us with icy blue eyes behind horn-rimmed glasses, a tooth stuck between his lips. The old Texan walked limply as he emerged from behind the curtain.
“Howdy there,” the old man says with a deep Texas drawl. “What can I do for you all?” he continued, limping to the counter. “We’d like a room for the night,” I responded to the old Texan behind the counter. “I can do that for you all,” he answered, limping to the room key cabinet. The old Texan opened the cabinet, revealing it was full of keys. He looked at us and then looked over the keys. He thought to himself, paused, and then picked a set of keys from a hook. The old Texan limped back to us, stating, “I’m assuming you all are a couple, so I’ll give you one of the bigger rooms.” “You assume right,” Brian responded.
“Are you heading to see Brian’s family, I replied. We are traveling from San Diego,” I continued with a smile. The old man nodded, stating, “Rooms for the night after 6 pm are less; check out is 11 am”. We nodded, “we’d probably get back on the road earlier than that time,” Brian responded; need a few hours, want to make it to College Station by tomorrow afternoon.” The old Texan nodded again, then responded, “Room is 65 dollars, color tv is available, no smart tv’s or WiFi in the rooms no need for them out here, you can leave the key in the box over there if you leave before 11 am”. The old Texan’s bony hand pointed towards a plastic bin in the left corner of the room. A red sign with white letters read, ‘Please place keys here,’ and an arrow pointed to the bin. Thank you was written in black marker on the bin. Brian and I looked at the older man; we nodded and understood. The old Texan asked if we would pay with cash or credit. “Credit,” I replied, motioning to Brian to pay. He would reach into his pocket, pull out his wallet, and present a credit card. The old Texan took the card with a shaking hand and placed it into an old-school knuckle buster, a manual credit card machine, to charge the credit card. The old Texan filled out a form, placed it in the machine, inserted the card under the form, and ran the imprinter mechanism to “imprint” the numbers and name from B’s card onto the form. The old Texan presented us with the form, the card, and the keys. B signed the form and then retrieved his keys and card. The old Texan smiled; his yellow teeth indicated he was a smoker. With the toothpick still in his mouth, the old Texan said, “You’re in room 17, here on the first floor. There is an ice machine on the second floor, accessible by taking the stairwell B. Vending machines stock fresh snacks and cold beverages, a few doors from your room. Those machines are stocked once a month, but this one is not working. The old Texan pointed to the one in the office. “Thank you very much,” we said in unison. Brian and I exited the office and entered the Texas heat.
Two
The sun was setting, and a chill was in the air when Brian and I got back outside. “No snacks for me,” I said as we walked to the car to get our bags. “I just want a shower, bed, maybe watch a little TV,” was B’s response to my statement. We looked at the hotel; it’s a place that has seen better days. The other car was still in the lot. Oddly, the car was there, as we saw no other guests’ rooms with us due to the fullness of the room key cabinet. We walked past the car and faintly saw words imprinted on the sedan’s door—State of Texas Pest Control. My brain thought I hope this place doesn’t have bugs. After arriving at our car, we got out our bags for the night. We walked from our car, back past the pest control sedan again, then down a few doors to our room.
The door is red and gold with 17 letters. The lights hummed over the door; we inserted the key and turned the knob. The door creaked open, revealing a modest room with a twin bed, a flower comforter, and two nightstands. The rug featured a green pattern color popular in the 1970s, and the walls matched, being blue/grey. A late 90s TV stood across from the bed with a cable hook sticking to the top of the unit. The remote sat to the left of the cable box. A small desk, lamp, and chair were beside the TV, close to the bathroom. The bathroom was small, containing a toilet, sink, and shower. “Looks cozy enough, “B said as he set his bag on the bed. “It will work for the night,” I responded, walking over to the bed and putting on my jacket. B looked at me with a crazy smile and asked, “Why do you need to look so good?” I smiled
“I always have to look good for you, babe.” I wiggled slightly after responding. Brian walked over to me, put his hand on my shoulders, and brought me closer. We kissed, our lips touching with a profound intimacy; our tongues followed, intertwining between our mouths. I saw it out of the corner of my eye: a cockroach the size of a nickel was crawling out of the front door gap of the bathroom. I screamed, jerking Brian from me, and he lost his footing and fell onto the bed behind him. “What is it?” he asked in a clueless manner. I looked around the room and saw the little bastard crawling to the front door.
“A cockroach,” I stammered and pointed to a little asshole crawling on the floor. B looked at me strangely; he stood up from the bed, saying, “Babe, it’s Texas; cockroaches are among the most common household pests here. The state’s warm climate offers ideal conditions for roach breeding. Most Texans are no strangers to cockroach infestations throughout the year. “I get that, but it’s in the room,” I replied. B looked at the door; the cockroach crawled under the front door, leaving the room. “See, it has left; they are more afraid of us than we; you’re of them.” He laughed, “Probably was hanging out here, and when it heard movement, it left for another room.” B cracked a goofy smile after his statement. I tried to laugh, but the thought of that thing crawling around made my skin crawl. “You’ll be okay; I’m here for you,” B said softly. We kissed. “But I need a shower”. He continued and kissed me again. “You should, too”, B added. I nodded. “Watch TV until I get back to you, “B said. He walked over to the TV and turned it on. It was an old movie station, playing a 1950s horror sci-fi flick. A woman and a man were in a car fleeing from a large insect creature. The woman screamed and wailed, and the man drove stone-faced as he tried to outrun the creature. I had a foreboding feeling while watching the classic film. “Leave it on?” B asked. “Sure, we might have to fight off bugs tonight; tips might help,” I responded. He smiled, handed me the remote to the TV, and then headed towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothes on the floor. I heard the shower water turn on and hit his body. It was comforting to have him here. The sunset and darkness filled the room as I watched two young people flee giant insects from another world.
Three
“Thank you for the coffee, “the reporter said as he opened up four packs of sugar at one time and poured them into his cup. I sipped my peach tea. Brian was making himself an iced coffee; he was not far if I needed him. “So, the reporter said after all the sugar was in his coffee, “go on, please .” I sipped my peach tea, savoring its taste for a moment on my tongue. “How did you hear about this again?” I asked finally. I put my cup down on the coffee table, interested in what he would say. The reporter shifted in his seat, crossing his legs. “I work for a paranormal organization that investigates strange phenomena like yours. I heard your story second-hand from a colleague in Texas. My source overheard your experience on the CB the night the encounter occurred. When the police were alerted, he obtained a copy of the police report through a source to verify its validity.
I’m interested in adding the encounter to a book where everyone at the organization collaborates on strange phenomena and creatures found in all 50 states. “Oh”, I replied. I now remember the message left on the answering machine about a week ago, which cited the same information. Brian walked into the room with his homemade iced coffee, sipping it as he approached us silently. “Everything okay?” he asked as he walked over to me on the couch. “Yes”, I say, just waiting for you to return here. “Okay,” he said as he sat beside me on the couch. The reporter nodded, uncrossed his legs, and looked at us. I started to tell the story again.
The TV’s warm glow kept the room lit as the movie progressed, and the monster insects continued destroying the screen city. B and I enjoyed the movie; it was campy yet entertaining, and even better, we got to rest our bodies after a long day of driving. After B’s shower, we watched the movie for some time before I had the energy to shower myself. When I finally had the energy to get up, the monster insects were dying at the hands of the US military and their flamethrowers. As the bugs were set on fire, I jumped out of bed, peeling off my clothes. As my clothes fell to the motel room floor, B sat on the bed, salivating at the sight of my naked body, and he licked his lips. “Not yet, mister. I need a shower, and then you can do whatever you want with me,” I said seductively with a wink. I left the pile of clothes on the floor, entered the bathroom, and turned on the shower, allowing it to warm before I arrived. I entered the shower once the water had warmed up, allowing the warm water to cascade over my body, which felt good. I thought about the cockroach as the warm water ran onto my body. I have had a lifelong fear of bugs. When I was growing up, my grandparents had a nasty infestation of bugs in their home. I stayed with them for long periods in the summer months. During those times, I had to fight off bugs day and night. The most terrifying experiences were at night; the damn bugs had a habit of crawling all over me as I slept. The night was the little bastards’ favorite time to come out and crawl around and, in my mind, have a bug party. As my shower continued, I remembered waking up many times as a kid with a bug crawling on the blankets. The bug would be crawling up towards my face. I knew the bug was walking towards me because its tiny face was looking right at me, staring into my eyes with its beady eyes while it wiggled its antenna. I would scream at the sight of the bug and proceed to fling the bed covers off, sending the little asshole flying through the air to the floor below. I remember running out of the room, screaming, and finding shelter with my grandparents in their room; the bugs did not dare come into the room. The thought of these times again sent a shiver down my spine despite being in the warm shower. The memories have stuck with me even as I got older, and long after, my parents finally had my grandparents fumigate the house to rid it of the bugs. Even after the bugs were dead, I would still wake up at my grandparents’ house, still feeling bugs crawling on me. Though there were no more bugs at the house, my lizard brain still believed they existed, hiding deep in the walls, waiting to get me at night. I could feel their presence still within my grandparents’ home. Ever since childhood, I have had a paralyzing fear of bugs and the fear that they will crawl all over me while I’m sleeping. After my shower, I did my best to stop thinking about bugs. I went back to bed, and B and I made love. After our love-making session, B and I spaced out, spooning and watching another 1950s sci-fi movie. I’m unsure when we fell asleep, but a knock on the door startled us. I looked over at my phone, and it was after midnight. Another knock came, followed by mumbling, a muffled voice that did not sound human. B and I noticed another movie was playing on the TV; humanoid creatures were terrorizing a small town due to a nuclear testing site in the nearby desert. Another knock came, more mumbling. Ice was the only word I understood from the mumbling. B got up, groggy from sleeping, and shuffled in his tight underwear to the door. “Don’t open it,” I stammered in a low voice. He glared at me as if he knew better and that he was pissed that I had the balls to say something. B turned his attention to the door. “We have no ice here; you have to go to the ice machine, for that is a few feet away from here,” B stated sternly; he stood close to the door so the person could hear him. B’s statement was met with silence. Then, without warning, the doorknob started turning slowly back and forth. Since the door was locked, the knob could only move back and forth from right to left. The knob turning was followed by a higher-pitched sound from behind the door; it was the voice yelling, “Ice!” louder this time. The voice had a buzz to it. B looked at the door in amazement as the doorknob started to move more violently now, despite his earlier statement that we had no ice in the room. “Dude, there is no ice in here,” B stated again, this time more firmly and louder. “Don’t make me call management,” B continued. The knob stopped turning, and there was silence again. B turned and smirked at me. I smiled back; he was my dorky hero in his tight undies. I looked back at the TV; the humanoid bug was now attacking a young couple in the car. My attention shifted away from the TV when the room door buckled from a powerful force that had hit it. B jumped back in surprise; there was another slam on the door. The door buckled even more after that slam. “WTF?” I screamed. I covered myself up with the sheets; I was completely naked in bed. The room door buckled again, and another monster slammed from outside. B stepped back and looked around for a weapon to use. He then scrambled towards the bathroom; from the bathroom, he grabbed the grimy ass plunger. B ran back to the motel room door, ready to swing at the would-be intruder. I was frozen in fear, covered up. The girl on the TV screamed as a large, insect-like creature brushed her face with its antennae. The door banged again, and the hinges buckled. I screamed in fear, hoping someone would hear me from outside. B stood ready to protect us at the room door, the plunger in his two hands, ready to swing like a bat. The door was banged on again with force. The hinges continued to buckle more from the banging against them. Neither one of us was prepared for what we were about to see. What was on the TV screen was about to become a reality. The door took its last hit, and the hinges gave way, flying inward and slamming to the floor with a thud. It was dark in the doorway at first. Someone lumbered forward into the doorframe, but it was not a person; it was a large, unknown creature walking on its hind legs. The creature’s mid-legs hung from a segmented abdomen, and wings stuck out mildly from its back. Its forelegs were thick and angled inward, allowing the creature to balance itself as it walked forward on its hind legs. The creature’s head featured compound eyes, antennas twitching up and down, and mandibles that opened and closed as it walked. What stood before us in our motel room in rural Texas was straight out of my nightmares; it was a six-foot-tall, light brown, giant cockroach.
Four
My vision grew fuzzy at what I saw; I fought the feeling of fainting. The giant roach at the motel door looked over at B; it flew towards B when it intelligently comprehended that B had a weapon in his hand. The giant roach took flight, lifting a few inches off the ground, then hovering towards B and the plunger bat with speed. B completely missed the roach due to its speed. B’s swing came close, but not close enough. The roach seized the moment to grab B by his neck with its mandibles, lift him off the ground, and then push him back with force across the motel room. The roach proceeded to pin B against the far wall of the motel room.
An object flashed in the corner of my eyes, causing me to take my gaze off B and the giant roach. I noticed another roach peering from the doorway on all fours. The peering roach and I locked eyes. Its mandibles moved excitedly at the sight of me on the bed. The peering roach slowly used its midsection legs to push itself onto its hind legs, standing upright. When the peering roach stood up, it was 4.5 feet tall, much smaller than the other roach. Despite the size difference, the peering roach had the same features and color as its big partner. The peering roach, now on its hind legs, looked at me with compound eyes; they flashed with intelligence. The roach then released its back wings; it took off from the ground outside the doorway and flew towards me. Now that the roach was in the air, its antennas and mandibles twitched in excitement as it hovered towards me. I instinctively removed the covers and kicked defensively in the air, catching it in its ugly face. In the process, I felt its crispy skin hard on my exposed toes as I kicked its ugly face. The roach was unfazed by the kick; it grabbed me by the hair with its mandibles and pulled me to the bedroom floor. I fell naked to the floor with a thud; my eyes caught B being pinned against the wall by the larger roach; the plunger lay on the floor—the larger roach’s mandibles around B’s neck, holding him tight. I felt B’s fear as I looked at his predicament, but I was not in a postion to help him yet. I looked up at my roach attacker; before the little roach could land on me to pin me to the floor, I used my two hands to pull my hair from the roach’s grasp. It hurt like hell as I tugged my arm from its mandibles. The roach was surprised by my ingenuity and hovered over me momentarily in shock at what I had just done. This pause by the roach allowed me time to scramble toward the bathroom’s safety. I pivoted quickly on the bathroom tile floor when I reached its safety. I slammed the door on the roach as it lurched forward to grab me by my legs.
The roach had a close-to-human screech when the bathroom door slammed on its forelegs. The roach squirmed, pulling itself up and down, attempting to free itself. I needed a weapon, I thought out loud. “Spray”, I said out loud to myself. I just remembered the cleaning chemicals I saw when I showered earlier. The cleaning supplies were placed near the sink in the bathroom. I scrambled towards the sink and the cleaning products at the bottom of the sink’s base. The roach screamed in pain as it tried to unstuck its legs from the door. I picked the two cans under the sink; they were both bleached. Bleach kills roaches; I remember that from my childhood experiences. I hoped bleach could also kill large roaches, or at the very least, it would affect them somehow for B and me to escape. I took a deep breath and uncapped the cans. Here I was, the blonde, naked, bug terminator.
Terrified, I moved forward. The roach’s forelegs were still wiggling, but it was no longer screaming. I placed my hand on the doorknob. I took one more deep breath. With an exhale, I opened the door. The roach lurched forward, its mandibles working overtime to grab me. I sprayed the chemicals directly at the roach, screaming at the top of my lungs as I released the spray in its direction. The spray hit the roach dead in its compound eyes. The fucking thing screeched like a human again. The roach lurched forward in pain, still trying to grab me with its mandibles. When the roach lurched forward, I moved out of the way and tripped its hind legs with my right foot. The roach tripped over my foot, stumbled towards the tub, and crashed into the shower curtain; then it fell into the tub. The shower curtain and the rod were both pulled down onto the roach due to its body width. The roach struggled to free itself from its entanglement. I slammed the door, but clicked the bathroom door lock first. This was to ensure the door was locked. The larger one took its mandibles off B’s neck and looked at me. It sprang and moved towards me.
I aimed the spray can at the roach, screaming a primal scream, and pushed the can button. The bleach spray hits the roach directly in the face. B, free from the roach’s grasp, sprang forward without hesitation; he picked the chair for the desk in room B and hit the studded roach over its metathorax, its back area; the chair broke as the roach lurched forward from the impact. I jumped out of the way as it fell toward the nightstand on the left side of the bed. The roach crashed into its nightstand with a thud. With the roach-studded, I sprayed it again on its face. The roach screeched, fell, and went still. I grabbed the lamp from the nightstand and smashed it on the roach. B looked at me, and I grabbed my clothes, and we fled.
Outside, we rushed to the car. I dressed the best I could as we ran. “Keys,” B stated. I went into my jeans pocket, my jeans were dangling in my arms, and I flipped the keys to B. As we got closer to the car, we heard the sound of wings. A figure swooped down fast and knocked me down; everything in my hands flew across the parking lot. The roach was on top of me; I could not tell if it was the one from the room or a new one. Its antennas brushed against my face, and its mandibles were mere inches from my nose, moving back and forth excitedly. The roach looked at me with compound eyes; they were black and lifeless. The roach acted automatically; it leaned towards me more, the mandibles getting closer to my nose. I started to black out; I was about to pass out. The can of bleach was nowhere to be found. My skin crawled as the roach’s body rested on top of me. The roach’s body was a hard shell, similar to the ones on the beach. I was fading into unconsciousness when the roach suddenly screamed and flew off. B had hit the roach with something.
I don’t know what hit the roach with, but he saved me. B helped me up, and we raced to the car, exchanging no words. We got in the car, which started when B turned the key. B and I drove off; in the review, I saw the roaches approaching and running behind us. There were at least half a dozen of them. All the roaches were on their hind legs, running after us, yet all they could do was watch us drive off. The roach’s mandibles moved in perfect harmony with each other as we hit the highway and sped off.
And that’s what happened, Jennifer says, frowning at B. He nods in agreement with her statement. The interviewer turns off his tape recorder, smiles, and says, “Just like the reports I read.” “So now what?” B asks the interviewer. The interviewer says, “I’ll bring the recording back to the organization I work for, I’ll write it up on my computer, hand it to my supervisors, and if it’s approved, which it should be, it will be published in the book collection of creepy stories from all fifty states. The interviewer pauses and looks down at the recorder; he picks it up and then places it in his pocket. The interviewer then looks back at Jen, and B says, I’ll be in touch once it’s approved, and we’ll pay you for your story plus royalties. The interviewer smiles. The couple nods in agreement with his statement. Jen and B walk the interviewer to the front door once he is packed up; they then watch as the interviewer gets into his car. The interviewer waves as he drives off down a quiet suburban street. Jen and B shut and locked the front door. Jen and B smile at each other and go to the kitchen to decide what they want for dinner.
As the interviewer drives down the street, he makes a call on his cell phone. The phone is picked up quickly on the other end. The interviewer clears his throat and says, “They remember everything from the encounter, sir.” There is a pause on the line, and a voice says, “The team members and you will pick the couple up tonight, and then they need to move forward with the plans.” The responding voice has a deep Texas drawl. The interviewer nods in agreement as he says, “Yes, sir,” on his phone. The older man on the other end of the phone call is at the motel in rural Texas, the same one Jen and B briefly mentioned to the interviewer. The older man sits in the back room of the motel, surrounded by giant roaches in glass containers. The roaches move frantically around in the containers, waiting to be freed for their next adventure. The older man is Dr. Robert Cherry, and in the eyes of the US government, he is a madman, having been fired years ago from secret research at Area 51 due to his outrageous beliefs and ideas. “So, meet with the rest of the team ASAP, Mr. Lindor. I have sent the information for their current location to your car’s GPS; you will all move to retrieve the escapees tonight and bring them back here. “Which team are you using, sir?” Mr. Lindor asks. “It is a local Texas militia that wants to see some changes here in the good ol’ USA,” Dr. Cherry responds. Mr. Lindor agrees to his orders, hangs up the phone, and then accelerates the car’s speed to head towards the meeting spot with the militia. Dr. Cherry hangs up the phone on his end, then turns his seat around to look at his roaches; he smiles at them; they are his greatest creations. Everyone in the government told him he was crazy for trying to splice the genes of humans and roaches to create giant roach-humanoids, which would form a super army. These humanoids possess human intelligence, are indestructible, and can easily infiltrate any environment. The humanoid roaches would create one of the greatest armies on Earth. Dr. Cherry clicks his tongue and says, “Soon, my army, we’ll get back the two human guinea pigs we lost, and with them back here, we’ll have a greater chance of getting you brave roaches to speak full English instead of just words and noises. Dr. Cherry pauses, “Then we can show the world governments what we can do, and if they don’t agree to our terms, we will destroy them all.” Dr. Cherry laughs dryly. The roaches reacted excitedly to Dr. Cherry’s words; they understood what was being said. The roach’s antennas and mandibles move excitedly to communicate with their general. The buzzer sounded from the outside office. “We have company,” Dr. Cherry says. He got up, then put on the limp he perfected to appear less threatening to the general population. Dr. Cherry walked through the curtain with his fake limp. “Hi, you all,” he says in his deep Texas drawl. “What can I do for you?”! As Dr. Cherry tended to the latest company of his motel front for his experiments, the roaches were in their large containers, waiting for the master to return and for their next mission.
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