“It’s a pity,” Jean said, “they’re so damn big. If they were smaller—”
“Size is in their favor,” Erick admitted. “An unfortunate circumstance.”
“All this academic wrangling!” Laura cried wildly. “We sit here working out theories and meanwhile they are after him!”
“This might explain gods,” Bill said suddenly.
“Gods?”
Bill nodded. “Don’t you see? In the past these beings looked across the nexus at us, into our universe. Maybe even stepped down. Primitive people saw them and weren’t able to explain them. They built religions around them. Worshipped them.”
“Mount Olympus,” Jean said. “Of course. And Moses met God at the top of Mount Sinai. We’re high up in the Rockies. Maybe contact only comes at high places. In the mountains, like this.”
“And the Tibetan monks are situated in the highest land mass in the world,” Bill added. “That whole area. The highest and the oldest part of the world. All the great religions have been revealed in the mountains. Brought down by people who saw God and carried the word back.”
“What I can’t understand,” Laura said, “is why they want him.” She spread her hands helplessly. “Why not somebody else? Why do they have to single him out?”
Bill’s face was hard. “I think that’s pretty clear.”
“Explain,” Erick rumbled.
“What is Doug? About the best nuclear physicist in the world. Working on top-secret projects in nuclear fission. Advanced research. The Government is underwriting everything Bryant College is doing because Douglas is here.”
“So?”
“They want him because of his ability. Because he knows things. Because of their size-relationship to this universe, they can subject our lives to as careful a scrutiny as we maintain in the biology labs of—well, of a culture of Sarcina Pulmonum. But that doesn’t mean they’re culturally advanced over us.”
“Of course!” Pete Berg exclaimed. “They want Doug for his knowledge. They want to pirate him off and make use of his mind for their own cultures.”
“Parasites!” Jean gasped. “They must have always depended on us. Don’t you see? Men in the past who have disappeared, spirited off by these creatures.” She shivered. “They probably regard us as some sort of testing ground, where techniques and knowledge are painfully developed—for their benefit.”
Douglas started to answer, but the words never escaped his mouth. He sat rigid in his chair, his head turned to one side.
Outside, in the darkness beyond the house, someone was calling his name.
He got up and moved toward the door. They were all staring at him in amazement.
“What is it?” Bill demanded. “What’s the matter, Doug?”
Laura caught his arm. “What’s wrong? Are you sick? Say something! Doug!”
Professor Douglas jerked free and pulled open the front door. He stepped out onto the porch. There was a faint moon. A soft light hovered over everything.
“Professor Douglas!” The voice again, sweet and fresh—a girl’s voice.
Outlined by the moonlight, at the foot of the porch steps, stood a girl. Blonde-haired, perhaps twenty years old. In a checkered skirt, pale Angora sweater, a silk kerchief around her neck. She was waving at him anxiously, her small face pleading.
“Professor, do you have a minute? Something terrible has gone wrong with…” Her voice trailed off as she moved nervously away from the house, into the darkness.
“What’s the matter?” he shouted.
He could hear her voice faintly. She was moving off.
Douglas was torn with indecision. He hesitated, then hurried impatiently down the stairs after her. The girl retreated from him, wringing her hands together, her full lips twisting wildly with despair. Under her sweater, her breasts rose and fell in an agony of terror, each quiver sharply etched by the moonlight.
“What is it?” Douglas cried. “What’s wrong?” He hurried angrily after her. “For God’s sake, stand still!”
The girl was still moving away, drawing him farther and farther away from the house, toward the great green expanse of lawn, the beginning of the campus. Douglas was overcome with annoyance. Damn the girl! Why couldn’t she wait for him?
“Hold on a minute!” he said, hurrying after her. He started out onto the dark lawn, puffing with exertion. “Who are you? What the hell do you —”
There was a flash. A bolt of blinding light crashed past him and seared a smoking pit in the lawn a few feet away.
Douglas halted, dumfounded. A second bolt came, this one just ahead of him. The wave of heat threw him back. He stumbled and half fell. The girl had abruptly stopped. She stood silent and unmoving, her face expressionless. There was a peculiar waxy quality to her. She had become, all at once, utterly inanimate.
But he had no time to think about that. Douglas turned and lumbered back toward the house. A third bolt came, striking just ahead of him. He veered to the right and threw himself into the shrubs growing near the wall. Rolling and gasping, he pressed against the concrete side of the house, squeezing next to it as hard as he could.
There was a sudden shimmer in the star-studded sky above him. A faint motion. Then nothing. He was alone. The bolts ceased. And—
The girl was gone, also.
A decoy. A clever imitation to lure him away from the house, so he’d move out into the open where they could take a shot at him.
He got shakily to his feet and edged around the side of the house. Bill Henderson and Laura and Berg were on the porch, talking nervously and looking around for him. There was his car, parked in the driveway. Maybe, if he could reach it—
He peered up at the sky. Only stars. No hint of them. If he could get in his car and drive off, down the highway, away from the mountains, toward Denver, where it was lower, maybe he’d be safe.
He took a deep, shuddering breath. Only ten yards to the car. Thirty feet. If he could once get in it—
He ran. Fast. Down the path and along the driveway. He grabbed open the car door and leaped inside. With one quick motion he threw the switch and released the brake.
The car glided forward. The motor came on with a sputter. Douglas bore down desperately on the gas. The car leaped forward. On the porch, Laura shrieked and started down the stairs. Her cry and Bill’s startled shout were lost in the roar of the engine.
A moment later he was on the highway, racing away from town, down the long, curving road toward Denver.
He could call Laura from Denver. She could join him. They could take the train east. The hell with Bryant College. His life was at stake. He drove for hours without stopping, through the night. The sun came up and rose slowly in the sky. More cars were on the road now. He passed a couple of diesel trucks rumbling slowly and cumbersomely along.
He was beginning to feel a little better. The mountains were behind. More distance between him and them…
His spirits rose as the day warmed. There were hundreds of universities and laboratories scattered around the country. He could easily continue with his work someplace else. They’d never get him, once he was out of the mountains.