Zenith Books, Inc.
Rockville Centre, New York
Copyright © 1960 by Louis Charbonneau
Zenith Books edition published in March, 1960
Manufactured in the U.S.A.
[Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any
evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I stared appraisingly at the redhead curled up on my couch. Even
she, Laurie Hendricks, might be one of them--one of the things
from outer space.
She noticed me watching her. She smiled knowingly, and stretched,
catlike, her body straining against the smooth coverall.
She walked over to where I stood and pressed against me. "Let's see
what you can teach me, professor," she said softly.
My last thought was: This girl is flesh and blood and human--she
_must_ be human! And then everything was blotted out in the crimson
sensation of that incredible kiss....
1
It came again--the dream within a dream, the alien mind within the
ailing mind. Drowning in the treacherous whirlpool near the shores
of sleep, I fought to reach the firm reality of consciousness, of
awakening, but I was sucked back and slowly sank beneath the surface
into the horror of the dream....
* * * * *
I stood on a lonely stretch of beach in a blue night, the sand
glistening white against the inky darkness of sky and water. Waves
rolled and tumbled toward me in noisy confusion. Beyond the apron
of sand were the small, black beetle-shapes of a cluster of house
trailers. But my eyes were focused on the figure which stood far up the
beach, and an unknown terror crawled like a furry, many-legged animal
down the nape of my neck.
"No!" The wind snatched the single cry of protest from my lips and tore
it into thin shreds of sound.
And the alien mind spoke in my ear, in my mind but not of it, a
whispered insinuation. "Drown!" it urged. "Drown!"
I didn't move. My legs seemed to have grown into the sand like the
trunks of trees. The voice spoke again in my mind, louder, more
compelling.
"Walk! Now! Into the water!"
I stood resisting the terrifying power of the voice. The figure up the
beach seemed closer, blurred by the cold wind that brought tears to my
eyes. I stood rooted and my body bent as if a gale tugged and pulled
at it. My legs began to tremble uncontrollably. The command hammered
at me with a relentless pressure, filling my mind, blotting out all
consciousness save for the drumming words, overwhelming in their brutal
strength.
And one foot moved. I took a step. Awkwardly, stiffly, like a rusty
robot lifting its leg. I struggled to force my body to obey the protest
of my own will. No! Stop! Don't move! But the cry of resistance was
obliterated by the command that swelled within my brain.
"Walk! Walk! Walk!"
Feet dragged resisting in the soft sand. Then there was the packed wet
surface, dark footprints, and the cold spray against my face, the water
swirling around my ankles, receding rapidly away from me down the wet
brown slope. I stumbled after it, impelled by the irresistible force,
each step a painful conflict that racked my body. I flung a wild glance
toward the figure on the beach. Closer now, much closer. Moving in for
the kill. And I felt anger, raging helpless anger mixed with the terror.
A breaker cracked like a whip ahead of me. The foaming tail of the
wave tumbled and crashed around me, washing above my knees. For a
single moment, I braked to a stop. I could feel the fabric of my suit
plastered wet against my legs.