"We're going for a ride."
"A ride? Where?"
Ed turned to Janet. "We'll leave the lights on. And the TV set. Go turn
it on." He pushed her toward the set. "So they'll think we're still--"
He heard the buzz. And dropped instantly, the long butcher knife out.
Sickened, he saw it coming down the stairs at him, wings a blur of
motion as it aimed itself. It still bore a vague resemblance to Jimmy.
It was small, a baby one. A brief glimpse--the thing hurtling at him,
cold, multi-lensed inhuman eyes. Wings, body still clothed in yellow
T-shirt and jeans, the mimic outline still stamped on it. A strange
half-turn of its body as it reached him. What was it doing?
A stinger.
Loyce stabbed wildly at it. It retreated, buzzing frantically. Loyce
rolled and crawled toward the door. Tommy and Janet stood still as
statues, faces blank. Watching without expression. Loyce stabbed again.
This time the knife connected. The thing shrieked and faltered. It
bounced against the wall and fluttered down.
Something lapped through his mind. A wall of force, energy, an alien
mind probing into him. He was suddenly paralyzed. The mind entered his
own, touched against him briefly, shockingly. An utterly alien presence,
settling over him--and then it flickered out as the thing collapsed in a
broken heap on the rug.
It was dead. He turned it over with his foot. It was an insect, a fly of
some kind. Yellow T-shirt, jeans. His son Jimmy.... He closed his mind
tight. It was too late to think about that. Savagely he scooped up his
knife and headed toward the door. Janet and Tommy stood stone-still,
neither of them moving.
The car was out. He'd never get through. They'd be waiting for him. It
was ten miles on foot. Ten long miles over rough ground, gulleys and
open fields and hills of uncut forest. He'd have to go alone.
Loyce opened the door. For a brief second he looked back at his wife and
son. Then he slammed the door behind him and raced down the porch steps.
A moment later he was on his way, hurrying swiftly through the darkness
toward the edge of town.
* * * * *
The early morning sunlight was blinding. Loyce halted, gasping for
breath, swaying back and forth. Sweat ran down in his eyes. His clothing
was torn, shredded by the brush and thorns through which he had crawled.
Ten miles--on his hands and knees. Crawling, creeping through the night.
His shoes were mud-caked. He was scratched and limping, utterly
exhausted.
But ahead of him lay Oak Grove.
He took a deep breath and started down the hill. Twice he stumbled and
fell, picking himself up and trudging on. His ears rang. Everything
receded and wavered. But he was there. He had got out, away from
Pikeville.
A farmer in a field gaped at him. From a house a young woman watched in
wonder. Loyce reached the road and turned onto it. Ahead of him was a
gasoline station and a drive-in. A couple of trucks, some chickens
pecking in the dirt, a dog tied with a string.
The white-clad attendant watched suspiciously as he dragged himself up
to the station. "Thank God." He caught hold of the wall. "I didn't think
I was going to make it. They followed me most of the way. I could hear
them buzzing. Buzzing and flitting around behind me."
"What happened?" the attendant demanded. "You in a wreck? A hold-up?"
Loyce shook his head wearily. "They have the whole town. The City Hall
and the police station. They hung a man from the lamppost. That was the
first thing I saw. They've got all the roads blocked. I saw them
hovering over the cars coming in. About four this morning I got beyond
them. I knew it right away. I could feel them leave. And then the sun
came up."
The attendant licked his lip nervously. "You're out of your head. I
better get a doctor."
"Get me into Oak Grove," Loyce gasped. He sank down on the gravel.
"We've got to get started--cleaning them out. Got to get started right
away."
* * * * *
They kept a tape recorder going all the time he talked. When he had
finished the Commissioner snapped off the recorder and got to his feet.
He stood for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he got out his
cigarettes and lit up slowly, a frown on his beefy face.
"You don't believe me," Loyce said.
The Commissioner offered him a cigarette. Loyce pushed it impatiently
away. "Suit yourself." The Commissioner moved over to the window and
stood for a time looking out at the town of Oak Grove. "I believe you,"
he said abruptly.