They got out of the car and started walking back to her apartment. He stopped her on the stair landing and grabbed her firmly.
“You’ve got to, Jenny,” he pleaded. “Look — I know what this thing is. I’ve been trained to fight it. But you haven’t. You’re vulnerable to it.”
“No, stop, listen!” she shot out angrily. “All my life I’ve been imprisoned. First in a big house, then in a tiny apartment. All my life I’ve been running away from the world out there. I’m not going to run anymore, Paul.”
He sighed. “Okay, wait here and I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said resignedly.
“No, Paul. Let me come with you,” she urged. “It’ll be dark up there — very dark. I’m used to the dark.”
He was about to absolutely veto this when they heard a crash and a tinkling of glass outside. He made his way slowly and cautiously back down the stairs. Jennifer followed.
He could see from the doorway what had happened.
Somebody had just lobbed a rock through his windshield.
Drawing his pistol he ordered Jenny to stay inside the door; then he opened it and stepped into the parking lot, pistol drawn.
It was night, a cloudy, ugly night. flashes of lightning showed in the distance, and the heavy, humid air felt and smelled as if a storm would break any minute.
For a moment he saw nothing. Then came a betrayal of movement, first from just behind the car, then around him, in the dark.
It was the children of the neighborhood.
You’re an enemy of Charley,” accused a piping voice of a kid of six or seven, sex indeterminate in the dark.
“You’re a bad man,” another asserted.
A rock flew out of the darkness and almost hit Savage. He ducked back inside and practically pulled Jenny down the first floor hall toward the building entrance to the office, explaining what had happened along the way.
“How horrible!” she said, and shuddered. “And that’s what will happen to everybody?”
Savage nodded, forgetting for a moment she couldn’t see the gesture. “And that’s only mildly augmented — or unaugmented — power. Imagine boosting it a thousandfold. A millionfold!”
“I’m still coming with you,” she insisted.
“You better believe you are!” he said firmly. “You’re safer with me than alone. Not only do we have people here, so does the enemy. You’re identified with me — and trapped. They would want you here, I think, as a hold on me.”
He used the pay phone and called Petersen’s mobile. He told the other agent the problem, and Petersen said to hold tight, he would be out quickly.
Looking around at the windows, Savage could see six faces, hatred glowing in their eyes, peering in at him. But they would do nothing, he felt confident, as long as he stayed inside. “Charley” or whatever it was changed the way you looked or felt about something — not the whole you. Those kids owed their loyalty to the creature up on the mountainside, but they were still kids — and reacted like kids.
The old couple were apparently in their own quarters or somewhere else in the building. Savage and Jennifer were alone.
“Paul,” she said suddenly.
“Yes, Jenny?”
“Marry me, Paul.”
He kissed her, and managed a chuckle. “You better believe it, beautiful. As soon as this night’s over.” pressed her hand firmly.
“No,” she replied. “Now. Right now, Paul. Before we — face what we have to face.”
“Well, I’m sorry, miss,” he replied jokingly, “but don’t happen to have a judge handy. And the blood tests aren’t in yet.”
“You don’t need those things, Paul,” she whispered. “I’m serious. Will you do it?”
He realized she was serious, and he understood. A loud clap of thunder rang out, and the rain started down in buckets. The kids outside scattered.
He turned and faced her.
“I, Paul Carleton Savage, take this woman to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do us part,” be intoned solemnly.
“I, Jennifer Ann Barron, take this man to be my lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do us part,” she respond.
They embraced and kissed.
“Well, Mrs. Savage, when do we have our honeymoon?” he asked her.
“Ms. Savage, if you please,” she replied, and laughed. “I gotta protect myself and keep you in check.”
“I promise you this, Jenny,” he said seriously. “Never have I taken a more serious or solemn oath. I swear it.”
She smiled and was silent.
At, that moment, the lights of Petersen’s car showed out in front. Savage quickly checked to see that it was Petersen and that the kids had fled the driving rain. In the car he saw the other agent, the little bald-head man he bad seen earlier. Grabbing Jenny’s hand, he an she dashed through the rain to the car. Both. were soaked as they piled into the back seat.
Petersen nodded, and started off. “This is Della Rosa,” he said, introducing the little man. “I thought we should all be in on this.”
“This is Jenny,” Savage responded, “my wife.”
Both their eyebrows shot up but they said nothing. Jenny smiled, and tried to wring the water out of her matted hair.
Savage leaned over to her and whispered, “You know, that rain made that t-shirt a real clinger. You look like a shameless harlot with your assets stuck out front.”
She laughed. “Be quiet and just remember my karate,” she warned.
Savage turned to the men in the front seat. “I brought her because she wasn’t safe back there, and with all of us working on this there wasn’t anyplace else.”
“Probably won’t make any difference,” Petersen commented dryly. “If we don’t get him tonight, we’re all up the creek, anyway.”
They traveled on up the road, careful in the driving rain. Savage briefed the others on the way, sparing nothing. They passed the warning flasher where Alice Mary McBride had jumped the road and continued on to the house.
By the time they reached it, the rain had almost passed, although they could see lightning off in the distance. It felt much cooler.
Petersen drove on past McBride’s and stopped a hundred yards farther down the road, on a curve out of line of sight with the house. Making a three-point turn, he switched off the car lights, and eased slowly back down on the shoulder.
It was pitch dark and no lights showed in the house. They heard no sound except the ever-present crickets celebrating the end of the rain.
Della Rosa reached down and took out a belt on which hung a half-dozen hand grenades. “Picked them up this evening,” be whispered. “Easiest way to get the thing, if we can spot it.”
They took two each. “Give me one,” Jenny urged.
“Why?” Delia Rosa asked. “You’re staying in the car.”
“No, in that darkness I’m better than you,” she shot back firmly. “I can hear better. Besides, if he’s not in the house, I’m a sitting duck here. I’d feel better with you.”
“Okay,” Savage told her, “but keep hold of me. I’ll keep the pineapples, but if you hear anything tell me what and where — fast.”
They all got quietly out of the car. Savage and Della Rosa took off their coats, revealing their shoulder holsters. Petersen strapped his own on over his flowered sports shirt. They all removed their shoes and socks.
Della Rosa went off through some underbrush to cover the back. Petersen checked out the ice cream truck. It was empty. Slowly the three edged toward the front of the house. Quietly, gun drawn, Petersen slipped a skeleten key into the lock and turned it with an almost inaudible click.
The door opened inward at a touch.
A hall led directly back to the kitchen. They could see that Della Rosa had made the back porch, but had not been able to enter.
Petersen tiptoed upstairs while Savage and Jenny went into the pitch-dark living room.
“It’s too dark to see anything in here,” he barely whispered in her ear.
“Let me take the lead,” she said, so faint he could hardly hear her. “I’ve been in strange rooms before.”
She had hold of his left hand and gingerly started making her way forward with the caution of the blind. She reached down and pulled her left pants leg up, then proceeded, using her left foot and arm as gentle probes. Savage’s eyes could not adjust to the bad light, for heavy drapes obscured all the windows. I’m in her world now, be thought…
They made their way, slowly, but surely, around into the small dining room and around to the hall again, this time in the kitchen, where Savage could see a little,
Petersen was already there, and gave a shrug. “I’m going back and call in,” be whispered. “Looks like the only way will be to blast that craft before it can come up.” He made his way back to the front door and stepped outside.
“We’re too late,” Savage said in a low normal tone.
“Quiet!” Jennifer hissed. “Listen!” All he could hear was the extremely loud cricket chorus.
“What?” he demanded. “I don’t hear anything.”
“Below us! The basement!”
Savage cursed himself for a fool. He spotted the basement door, slightly ajar, just under the stairwell, and brought Jenny over to it. She felt it gingerly. He gave her one of the grenades and put her finger into one of its rings. She nodded that she understood.
This was some kind of woman! he thought. Thanks to his single real hand, he could handle a pistol or a grenade, but not both.
Edging open the door cautiously, he saw a shaft of light down below. Jenny felt the edge of the step and descended with him. They found a small landing, or platform, where the stairs turned right; and, as they stepped on it, it creaked noisily.
The sounds downstairs ceased for a moment, then a low whine began. Savage saw a shadow flicker on the cement walls of the basement, and heard someone walking toward them. Jennifer heard it almost before he did, and froze.
“Well, Mr. Savage!” Joseph McBride’s voice boomed out, echoing through the cellar. “I guess I couldn’t avoid It.”
A beam of searing hatred — that was the only way to describe it — hit them both, and Jenny gasped.
“Ah, the girl, too!” McBride’s voice exulted. “That makes it just perfect. Some entertainment to pass the lonely hours till morning!”
Savage and Jenny both felt it come upon them: they felt their love for each other grow larger and larger within themselves until their sexual drives were driven into a sudden frenzy of lust, pushing all other thought from their minds. Standing on the landing, they became animals in heat, forgetting everything but each other, the overpowering emotional blitz sweeping them both into madness. They virtually clawed at each other in an animalistic orgy, all reason gone.
The figure of McBride, smiling broadly, now appeared at the bottom of the stairs, a shotgun casually under one arm. A purplish mass sat in the curve of his neck.
The Kah’diz was well satisfied with itself. It could maintain this all night, and if — or rather, when — they tumbled down the stairs that would still present no problem. The waves from the two on the landing poured forth, bathing the creature in ecstasy.
With a thumping sound, Savage’s pistol tumbled and slid down the stairs and landed at the Kah’diz’s feet. It kicked the weapon idly away.
“Savage!” Petersen’s voice rang from the floor above. “Savage! Where are you? It’s got a portable force-field generator! We can’t get through!”
The creature bathed itself in the ocean of rapture, worrying little about the other two — knowing that, in the morning, when the ship was lifted and the control was effective, it could dispense with such trifles.
Savage and Jennifer had practically torn each other’s clothing to bits in their animalistic attack, it noted with amusement, and the girl was bleeding from some superficial wounds.
All night. It could keep this up all night! The Kah’diz reveled in the knowledge of what it was like to be a god.
Then, abruptly, another object bounced down the stairs, hitting the fourth step, then the sixth, then the ninth, then rolling onto the floor almost up to the feet of the Kah’diz, who glanced at it idly. But suddenly the creature realized what it was.
In her desire to do it right, Jenny had removed the pin from the grenade and had been holding the handle shut tightly in her grip. Now the handle was out.
The Kah’diz felt momentary panic seize it. The force-field generator that kept the others out would keep blast very localized. Eight seconds seemed like an eternity as it tried to seek shelter in some part of the basement.
In a hundred households across the peaceful, sleeping valley below, a hundred or more children suddenly awoke, screaming.