The kicking thrashing body of Evelyn McMahon was lifted high in the air to disappear through the opening above.
Her husband had clutched her until she was torn from his grasp, and now, with a low cry of anguish he started climbing frantically up the strands of the net.
He had clambered half the distance when the chitin-covered limb appeared again, and Charles McMahon went to join his bride.
Randall was heartsick. He could do nothing, absolutely nothing, and he knew it was only a matter of seconds until that huge claw would return for another struggling, screaming human.
He hoped frantically that he would escape the horrible suspense; that he himself would be the next victim. However, he wasn't. He had to wait until two of the school teachers and the young engineer were gone before the opposing claws closed around him.
He waited for the crushing violence of those great talons, but instead, there was only a gentle pressure as he felt himself lifted smoothly and easily from the net.
In another moment he was set free in a small open field covered with a thick carpet of grass. A tall stockade constructed of foot-thick wooden piling, sharpened at the upper ends, enclosed fifteen or twenty acres of field.