She gestured vaguely.
"Something grabbed me," she said. "Something fishy grabbed me when I was only half conscious, and dragged me overboard."
"'Something fishy' is right!" Camp snorted. "For God's sake, what did the thing look like?"
"I couldn't describe it," Lois said, and shuddered. "It had arms, and it weaved through the water— "
"Where'd it take you?"
"On shore at Isle Royale, to a cove near Johns. When I came to I saw it watching me, and I ran for the lake and jumped in. It didn't follow me—no, I don't know why—and I swam back to the boat and climbed on ... and here I am. Does that make sense, or bring the story up to date?"
"Um," Camp said thoughtfully. "I guess so." He scratched his stubbled chin, wishing he had shaved after all. He looked again at his plate of bacon and tinned bread. "Here," he said, climbing to his feet, "I'll fix up some of this for you."
"No," said the girl. "I don't want any."
Camp frowned. What was wrong with her? He knew that she hadn't eaten for hours—a whole day, at least.
"Nonsense," he said firmly. "You've got to eat something." He tossed some more bacon into the pan and turned the current high. In a moment or so the food was ready and sizzling. He slipped the strips into a plate and set it down before the girl.
"There," he said. "Stow that away and maybe we'll get the sparkle back in your eyes. Very nice eyes, too."
The girl looked wanly at the plate of food. "I really don't want any," she said faintly. "I'm afraid you won't be able to spare it."
Camp glowered at her. "With the supplies of a whole world to be looted? Of course I'll be able to spare it," he persisted. "And anyway, it's cooked already. On moral grounds alone you should eat it; the stuff'll be wasted otherwise. I don't think I could comfortably manage more bacon myself."
Lois smiled weakly, and stared blankly at the loaded plate. As though she were forcing herself to an unpleasant task she picked a bit of bacon and swallowed it.
"No," she said suddenly. "I don't want to— " and broke off. Her face was set in definite lines of disgust; the food seemed to have made her slightly ill.
The baffled Camp removed the plate. "Okay,"' he said apologetically. "I'm sorry if there's anything wrong. Don't you like bacon?"
"No," she replied, with evident relief. "Not bacon."
"Then how about a string of sausages? Rich and racy, ground from happy hogs," he suggested with ill-advised humor. Lois retched daintily.
"Not sausages," the girl answered, somewhat unevenly. "The thought of it makes me ill. I would like a drink of water, though." Camp poured a glass for her, and watched silently as she swallowed it in one quick gulp. "That was good," she smiled. "That took the edge off my appetite."
Camp blinked. "Oh?" he said. "But you can't live on water!"
Lois arched one thin eyebrow. "No? I can try."
And again something seemed to click in place inside the man's mind. The preposterous contradictions of the whole damned, fantastic set-up seemed to point to some huge, shadowy, indistinct conclusion far off in the distance—and, he thought, he feared for his sanity.
"Lois," he said firmly, "sit down." She obeyed, and he assumed a commanding posture above her. "Now," Camp went on, "what precisely is wrong with me or the world—or perhaps just you? I still don't know how you, of all the living things on Earth, survived whatever happened; I still don't know what it was that did happen; I don't know a single thing about your disappearance last night ... and I don't think you'd tell me the truth anyway."
"But— " she began.
"None of that!" he snapped, and slammed his hand down hard on the tabletop. Marvin squeaked shrilly and scurried into Camp's pocket.
"If I've guessed right," Camp intoned, "you've got some ungodly peculiar friends!"
There was a faint scratching noise behind him. Camp whirled, his hard fists poised and ready for anything.
Ready for anything but what he saw. For it was Lois there in the cabin's doorway.
He shot one quick, unbelieving glance at the girl sitting quietly in the chair behind him, and then looked at her exact twin only two or three meters away. They were, he saw unbelievingly, alike in every detail.
The two girls stared at each other in obvious confusion. It was plainly apparent to Camp that something had gone wrong with the plans of one—or both.
"What the hell is this?" he growled helplessly. There was no answer.
He strode to the cabin door and stood before it, blocking it with his broad shoulders. "Neither one of you two phonies gets out of here until I find out what's going on," he rasped. "You!" This to the second Lois. "Where'd you come from?"
"From—from Isle Royale," she faltered. "Something fishy grabbed me when I was only half— "
He stopped her with a choppy motion of one bronzed hand. "That's enough," he said curtly. He eyed the two girls angrily.
"I don't know what's going on, or what your game is," he said, "but I'm going to give you one chance to talk before I put the screws on. One chance ... will you talk now, or shall I get tough?"
No answer, except an apprehensive stirring.
"Okay," he lipped. "I haven't forgotten what happened when I ran the generator last night. I'm going to turn it over now, and we'll see which one of you throws the first fit."
A quick glance assured him that the cabin's two ports were too small to allow the passage of even the girl's slim bodies. He stepped outside, and slammed the door and bolted it.
As soon as he had started the generator he raced back to the cabin. He knew that blue sparks must now be chasing themselves around the brushes of the generator, and he watched the girls carefully.
And then ... both girls collapsed in horrible, writhing convulsions!
Camp stared in horrified fascination at their frenzied, whipping contortions. Every theory of his was shot, now; he was certain that neither girl was Lois. But if neither one was the girl he knew—what were they?
Their struggles were pitiable, but Camp could be diamond-hard when the necessity arose. Grimly unheeding of their screams he waited for the next development. The discoloration he had seen last night spread simultaneously over the skins of the two sufferers, a rash that seemed to extend itself into a silky, dark-hued coating.
"My God!" he cried thinly. The girls were melting—losing their forms! Slumping into ovoid, tapering creatures that flopped about the floor, each whipping eight short tentacles in open discomfort. Suddenly, then, he knew. These creatures—it had been one of them which he had seen slip over the side of his boat last night, not carrying an unconscious girl but halfway transformed from human to monster!
V. Restoration
"Gah!" Camp said feelingly. He tumbled backwards out of the suddenly cramped cabin and grabbed up the rifle. Marvin, in his pocket, protested sleepily at the sudden commotion.
A metallic click accompanied the introduction of a cartridge into the chamber of the rifle, and Camp felt better. He peered cautiously into the comparative darkness of the cabin.
A clear, curiously gentle voice seemed to sound in his brain.
"Earthman," it said. "Turn off your motors. We will not harm you."
Camp thought it over for a second, and switched off the motors, though not letting his hand stray too far from the starter button.
"Who said that?" he demanded, suspiciously eyeing the two limply relaxed creatures.
One of them oozed forward a trifle. "That's far enough!" Camp warned hastily.
"I did," came that clear voice again.
"Yeah?" Camp said. His hand hovered indecisively over the starter switch. "Start at the beginning of everything and tell me all about it." Cradling the rifle in the crook of his elbow he fished a cigarette from his pocket and applied the flame of a small briquet to its tip....