Slowly, significantly, Watson said, "The thing we don't understand is
how you managed to bring so much equipment. The exact things you
needed--right down to the last nail."
Merklos' inscrutable gaze swung around. The smile lingered on his face.
"We are a careful people. We plan a long way ahead."
Watson opened his mouth for another question--and shut it. Merklos'
attention had left them. The man was listening, his head slightly
cocked. After a moment he turned. "I am happy to see you making a visit.
I hope you come again." He nodded and walked swiftly away.
Wordlessly, Jerry and the sheriff got back in the car. "Could you hear
what he was listening to?" Jerry muttered.
"I didn't hear a thing."
"Notice anything else about Dark Valley?"
* * * * *
Watson shook his head.
"No flowers. Not one dog." Jerry's hand tightened on the steering-wheel.
"And who has ever gotten a single, clear look at one of the kids?"
Jerry spent a restless night. On the way to his office the next morning
he met Watson, talking to a farmer on the courthouse steps.
"Listen to Carson, here," the sheriff said grimly.
Carson's straw hat bobbed as he talked. "I'm waitin' to see the farm
adviser. Somethin's gone wrong out at my place on the South Fork. I'm on
good bottom land--highest yield in the county. But in the last two,
three weeks my corn, my wheat, even my berries has _stopped growin'_!"
Jerry's eyes jumped to Watson.
"Yep," Carson went on, "every single ear o' corn is still a nubbin." He
threw out his arms. "And, by God, even my wife's radishes has stood
still. Ain't anything on earth that'll slow up a radish."
"How about other stuff? How about eggs?"
"Same thing. Cut right down. Hens lay one in ten now, mebbe. An' my
alfalfa has turned a funny gray-green. Even the fruit--"
"What about the river?" Watson broke in. "You still got water in the
South Fork?"
"Way down for this time o' year. But we got enough."
Several people had stopped to listen. One of them, a big, tow-headed
Swede, burst out excitedly. "Mister, you got the same trouble as my
cousin. His crops, they're growin' _backwards_!"
There was more of the same impossible talk. Jerry made an excuse to get
away to his office. He sat at his desk and stared out the window.
There wasn't any problem, he tried to tell himself. Anything he could
not measure by experience and logic was out. And that had to include
giant paw-prints and mysteriously missing objects as well as radishes
that wouldn't grow.
Dark Valley was taking on life and freshness. Fact. The South Fork, and
portions of the North Fork, seemed to be losing fertility. Fact. But to
conclude from this that Dark Valley was gaining at the expense of the
others--that was the road no reasonable man could allow himself to take.
From his window, he saw the huge old trees that shaded Wide Bend. They
looked suddenly wrong. Weren't they less green, less thick than before?
The buildings and streets looked dingier, too. And when did all those
broken fences, cracked windows, missing shingles show up...?
Jerry lunged from his chair and strode up and down the room. Then the
telephone bell tore through his nerves. He grabbed the instrument.
"Watson. I just wanted to tell you, two boys have been reported
missin'."
"No!"
"The Simmons kids. But they've run away before. They'll be back."
Jerry's hand went slowly down. The sheriff's voice echoed hollowly from
the lowered receiver. "Well, won't they?"
* * * * *
It was after midnight when the doorbell rang. It didn't wake Jerry--he
was sitting in bed, staring into the darkness. There was a pile of books
beside him; he knocked them over getting up to answer the door.
Mike Carver stumbled in. He dropped into a chair, panting. Jerry went
for a bottle and glass. Carver gulped the drink, then held the tumbler
out for another.
"I run all the way down the ridge," he gasped, "till I catched a ride. I
figgered you ought to know what happened. It got my brother Ed."
Jerry's lean face hardened.
"Yeah. It was prowlin' around. We went after it, an' shot it."
"But you said ..."
"I said it killed Ed." The old lips tightened. "We gave it one slug
through the heart and one through the head. They didn't even slow it
down."
"You mean," Jerry asked carefully, "that they didn't have any effect at
all?"
Mike nodded. He tipped the glass, wiped his ragged sleeve across his
face, and rose.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to the cabin."
"Mike, you can't go there!"
"That's where my brother's body is."
"Look," Jerry said evenly, "you can't help him now. Stay here with me,
and we'll go up in the morning."
Carver shook his head. "My brother's there at the cabin. I got to set up
with him." There was no arguing against that tone of simple and utter
finality.
"All right. Wait till I get some clothes on, and I'll drive you back."
A few minutes later they passed through Wide Bend's deserted streets and
started out the road to the valley. Carver rolled down his window and
spat tobacco juice. "Feller was up to see us," he said gloomily. "Told
us people was losin' things all over the county--includin' two kids.
Said crops has shrunk. Said water in the forks is way down."
"He's right."
"Said people were gettin' the idea Dark Valley was livin' off the rest
of the land. Feedin' on it, like a parasite. How crazy you think that
is?"
* * * * *