"Play cat and mouse like this. Holding us on a pin like flies in an
exhibit."
Leroy Davis smiled brightly. "Like a butterfly in your case, honey. A
big, beautiful butterfly."
"What are you going to do," Frank Brooks snapped. "Whatever it is, let's
get it over with?"
"Can't you see what I'm doing?" Davis asked with genuine wonder. "Are
you that stupid? I'm being the boss. I'm in command and I like it. I
hold life and death over four people and I'm savoring the thrill of it.
You're pretty stupid, mister, and if you use that 'can't get away with
it' line, I'll put a bullet into your left ear and watch it come out
your right one."
Jim Wilson's fists were doubled. He was again approaching the reckless
point. And again it was dulled by the gradually increasing sound of a
motor--not in the air, but from the street level to the south.
It was a sane, cheerful sound and was resented instantly by the insane
mind of Leroy Davis.
He tightened even to the point that his face grew more pale from the
tension. He backed to a window, looked out quickly, and turned back.
"It's a jeep," he said. "They're going by the hotel. If anybody makes a
move, or yells, they'll find four bodies in here and me gone. That's
what I'm telling you and you know I'll do it."
They knew he _would_ do it and they stood silent, trying to dredge up
the nerve to make a move. The jeep's motor backfired a couple of times
as it approached Madison Street. Each time, Leroy Davis' nerves reacted
sharply and the four people kept their eyes trained on the gun in his
hand.
The jeep came to the intersection and slowed down. There was a
conference between its two occupants--helmeted soldiers in dark brown
battle dress. Then the jeep moved on up Clark Street toward Lake.
A choked sigh escaped from Nora's throat. Frank Brooks turned toward
her. "Take it easy," he said. "We're not dead yet. I don't think he
wants to kill us."
The reply came from Minna. She spoke quietly. "I don't care. I can't
stand any more of this. After all, we aren't animals. We're human beings
and we have a right to live and die as we please."
Minna walked toward Leroy Davis. "I'm not afraid of your gun any more.
All you can do with it is kill me. Go ahead and do it."
Minna walked up to Leroy Davis. He gaped at her and said, "You're crazy!
Get back there. You're a crazy dame!"
He fired the gun twice and Minna died appreciating the incongruity of
his words. She went out on a note of laughter and as she fell, Jim
Wilson, with an echoing animal roar, lunged at Leroy Davis. His great
hand closed completely over that of Davis, hiding the gun. There was a
muffled explosion and the bullet cut unnoticed through Wilson's palm.
Wilson jerked the gun from Davis' weak grasp and hurled it away. Then he
killed Davis.
He did it slowly, a surprising thing for Wilson. He lifted Davis by his
neck and held him with his feet off the floor. He squeezed Davis' neck,
seeming to do it with great leisure as Davis made horrible noises and
kicked his legs.
Nora turned her eyes away, buried them in Frank Brooks' shoulder, but
she could not keep the sounds from reaching her ears. Frank held her
close. "Take it easy," he said. "Take it easy." And he was probably not
conscious of saying it.
"Tell him to hurry," Nora whispered. "Tell him to get it over with. It's
like killing--killing an animal."
"That's what he is--an animal."
Frank Brooks stared in fascination at Leroy Davis' distorted, darkening
face. It was beyond semblance of anything human now. The eyes bulged and
the tongue came from his mouth as though frantically seeking relief.
The animal sounds quieted and died away. Nora heard the sound of the
body falling to the floor--a limp, soft sound of finality. She turned
and saw Jim Wilson with his hands still extended and cupped. The
terrible hands from which the stench of a terrible life was drifting
away into empty air.
Wilson looked down at his handiwork. "He's dead," Wilson said slowly. He
turned to face Frank and Nora. There was a great disappointment in his
face. "That's all there is to it," he said, dully. "He's just--dead."
Without knowing it for what it was, Jim Wilson was full of the futile
aftertaste of revenge.
He bent down to pick up Minna's body. There was a small blue hole in the
right cheek and another one over the left eye. With a glance at Frank
and Nora, Jim Wilson covered the wounds with his hand as though they
were not decent. He picked her up in his arms and walked across the
lobby and up the stairs with the slow, quiet tread of a weary man.
The sound of the jeep welled up again, but it was further away now.
Frank Brooks took Nora's hand and they hurried out into the street. As
they crossed the sidewalk, the sound of the jeep was drowned by a sudden
swelling of the wailings to the northward.
On still a new note, they rose and fell on the still air. A note of
panic, of new knowledge, it seemed, but Frank and Nora were not paying
close attention. The sounds of the jeep motor had come from the west and
they got within sight of the Madison-Well intersection in time to see
the jeep hurtle southward at its maximum speed.
Frank yelled and waved his arms, but he knew he had been neither seen
nor heard. They were given little time for disappointment however,
because a new center of interest appeared to the northward. From around
the corner of Washington Street, into Clark, moved three strange
figures.
There was a mixture of belligerence and distress in their actions. They
carried odd looking weapons and seemed interested in using them upon
something or someone, but they apparently lacked the energy to raise
them although they appeared to be rather light.
The creatures themselves were humanoid, Frank thought. He tightened his
grip on Nora's hand. "They've seen us."
"Let's not run," Nora said. "I'm tired of running. All it's gotten us is
trouble. Let's just stand here."
"Don't be foolish."
"I'm not running. You can if you want to."
Frank turned his attention back to the three strange creatures. He
allowed natural curiosity full reign. Thoughts of flight vanished from
his mind.
"They're so thin--so fragile," Nora said.
"But their weapons aren't."
"It's hard to believe, even seeing them, that they're from another
planet."
"How so? They certainly don't look much like us."
"I mean with the talk, for so long, about flying saucers and space
flight and things like that. Here they are, but it doesn't seem
possible."
"There's something wrong with them."
This was true. Two of the strange beings had fallen to the sidewalk. The
third came doggedly on, dragging one foot after the other until he went
to his hands and knees. He remained motionless for a long time, his head
hanging limply. Then he too, sank to the cement and lay still.
The wailings from the north now took on a tone of intense agony--great
desperation. After that came a yawning silence.
* * * * *
"They defeated themselves," the military man said. "Or rather, natural
forces defeated them. We certainly had little to do with it."
Nora, Frank, and Jim Wilson stood at the curb beside a motorcycle. The
man on the cycle supported it with a leg propped against the curb as he
talked.
"We saw three of them die up the street," Frank said.
"Our scouting party saw the same thing happen. That's why we moved in.
It's about over now. We'll know a lot more about them and where they
came from in twenty-four hours."
They had nothing further to say. The military man regarded them
thoughtfully. "I don't know about you three. If you ignored the
evacuation through no fault of your own and can prove it--"
"There were four of us," Jim Wilson said. "Then we met another man. He's
inside on the floor. I killed him."
"Murder?" the military man said sharply.
"He killed a woman who was with us," Frank said. "He was a maniac. When
he's identified I'm pretty sure he'll have a past record."
"Where is the woman's body?"
"On a bed upstairs," Wilson said.
"I'll have to hold all of you. Martial law exists in this area. You're
in the hands of the army."
* * * * *
The streets were full of people now, going about their business, pushing
and jostling, eating in the restaurants, making electricity for the
lights, generating power for the telephones.
Nora, Frank, and Jim Wilson sat in a restaurant on Clark Street. "We're
all different people now," Nora said. "No one could go through what
we've been through and be the same."
Jim Wilson took her statement listlessly. "Did they find out what it was
about our atmosphere that killed them?"
"They're still working on that, I think." Frank Brooks stirred his
coffee, raised a spoonful and let it drip back into the cup.
"I'm going up to the Chicago Avenue police station," Wilson said.
Frank and Nora looked up in surprise. Frank asked, "Why? The military
court missed it--the fact you escaped from jail."
"They didn't miss it I don't think. I don't think they cared much. I'm
going back anyway."
"It won't be much of a rap."
"No, a pretty small one. I want to get it over with."