I sat there in the chill quiet, on this ugly, alien world, reading "The
Dodo" by the light of a miniature flash, so as not to disturb Rene.
Pretty soon I began to feel creepy. "The Dodo" is a ghastly poem.
There's an insidious morbidity about it. It had sounded merely funny
the first time I read it.
Now, the more I read it, the more I began to hear strange, impossible
creakings and sighs, which might or might not be due to temperature
changes.
The night outside was a deep, cold cup of darkness where no human thing
moved.
There was a knock at the door.
I dropped the book and flashlight. Rene was up like a cat. He didn't
turn on the light.
"Who's there?" he shouted.
There was a scratching noise at the door. Then a voice croaked, "My
name is Isadore Summers."
* * * * *