The Trap Read Online Free PDF

none of these are made up.
    Fried sea horse on a stick.
    Fried starfish on a stick.
    Fried scorpion on a stick.
    And fried snake wrapped around a stick.
    The philosophy at Donghuamen seemed to be: Is it really gross? Okay then, put it on a stick!
    The crowd was predominantly Chinese, and mostly they weren’t eating the various stick-based foods. They were eating little buns stuffed with meat and vegetables, or pointing at pieces of fish and having it fried up in blistering-hot woks. Or chewing brightly colored glazed fruit.
    It was the American, British, and Australian tourists eating the OMG-on-a-stick food.
    â€œHuh. Those are, like, bugs,” Stefan said. “Bugs on a stick.”
    â€œYou’re not scared to try them, are you?” Mack taunted.
    Stefan narrowed his eyes, shot a dirty look at Mack, but then noticed Jarrah smiling expectantly at him.
    â€œI will if you will,” Jarrah said. She had a dazzling smile. At least Stefan looked dazzled by it.
    â€œYeah?”
    Mack rolled his eyes. “You guys really don’t have to.”
    â€œStarfish?” Jarrah suggested.
    â€œWhy, you scared to eat a fried snake?”
    â€œOh, I’ll eat a fried snake, mate,” Jarrah shot back. “The question is, are you man enough to eat a fried silkworm cocoon?”
    It was a strange sort of courting ritual, Mack decided. Two crazy people sizing each other up.
    â€œScorpion,” Stefan said.
    Jarrah high-fived him. “You’re on.”
    They bought two orders of scorpion on a stick. Each stick had three small scorpions.
    Stefan said, “Okay, at the same—”
    Jarrah didn’t wait. She chewed one of the scorpions, and Stefan had to rush to keep up.
    â€œThe two of you are mental,” Mack said as Jarrah and Stefan laughed and crunched away with scorpion tails sticking out of their mouths.
    â€œOh, come on, don’t be a wimp, Mack,” Jarrah teased. “At least try a fried grasshopper. They don’t look so bad.”
    Mack made a face and looked dubiously at the plastic tray loaded with fried grasshoppers. “Yeah, I don’t think so. They look a little bit too much like those . . .”
    The words died in his mouth. What the grasshoppers looked like were Skirrit.
    One of which, wearing a tan trench coat and a narrow-brimmed fedora that didn’t exactly hide his giant bug head, had just stepped up beside Mack.

Chapter Six
    S kirrrrrriiiiiittt!” Mack yelled.
    He jerked away from the food, away from the Skirrit in the trench coat. But another was right behind him and wrapped its insect stick arms around him. The first pulled a bladed weapon like a short, curved sword from beneath its coat and pointed it at Mack’s chest.
    A ripple went through the crowd of tourists as more and more realized that a couple of very big grasshoppers—grasshoppers not unlike the ones some of them were eating—were kidnapping a kid.
    People ran. The vendors and cooks working the food stands ran. It took about four seconds for everyone to go from normal to complete panic, and then it was screaming and running and knocking over hot woks, and awning poles broken and ice bins spilled all over the sidewalk, and everywhere food: food flying and food dropping and food slithering because it was still alive.
    A giant glass aquarium full of octopi shattered, and hundreds of confused octopi attached their suckers to legs and sandaled feet and bicycle tires.
    That last part was actually kind of funny. If you ever get the chance, attach an octopus to a bicycle tire and ride around. You’ll see.
    Then the first flames appeared as hot wok met spilled oil.
    â€œBack off, bugs!” Stefan roared.
    He threw himself, fists pummeling, at the Skirrit that held Mack tight.
    â€œHe’s got a . . .” Mack had wanted to yell, He’s got a knife ; but it wasn’t exactly a knife and Mack didn’t know quite what it was, so he