"This won't take long," the cop behind the wheel interrupted. "A short process. Only a few minutes."
"I hope it's short," Loyce muttered. The car slowed down for a stoplight. "I guess I sort of disturbed the peace. Funny, getting excited like that and—"
Loyce yanked the door open. He sprawled1 out into the street and rolled to his feet. Cars were moving all around him, gaining speed as the light changed. Loyce leaped onto the curb2 and raced among the people, burrowing3 into the swarming4 crowds. Behind him he heard sounds, shouts, people running.
They weren't cops. He had realized that right away. He knew every cop in Pikeville. A man couldn't own a store, operate a business in a small town for twenty-five years without getting to know all the cops.
They weren't cops—and there hadn't been any explanation. Potter, Fergusson, Jenkins, none of them knew why it was there. They didn't know—and they didn't care. That was the strange part.
Loyce ducked into a hardware store. He raced toward the back, past the startled clerks and customers, into the shipping6 room and through the back door. He tripped over a garbage can and ran up a flight of concrete steps. He climbed over a fence and jumped down on the other side, gasping7 and panting.
There was no sound behind him. He had got away.
He was at the entrance of an alley8, dark and strewn with boards and ruined boxes and tires. He could see the street at the far end. A street light wavered and came on. Men and women. Stores. Neon signs. Cars.
And to his right—the police station.
He was close, terribly close. Past the loading platform of a grocery store rose the white concrete side of the Hall of Justice. Barred windows. The police antenna9. A great concrete wall rising up in the darkness. A bad place for him to be near. He was too close. He had to keep moving, get farther away from them.
Them?
Loyce moved cautiously down the alley. Beyond the police station was the City Hall, the old-fashioned yellow structure of wood and gilded10 brass11 and broad cement steps. He could see the endless rows of offices, dark windows, the cedars12 and beds of flowers on each side of the entrance.
And—something else.
Above the City Hall was a patch of darkness, a cone13 of gloom denser14 than the surrounding night. A prism of black that spread out and was lost into the sky.
He listened. Good God, he could hear something. Something that made him struggle frantically16 to close his ears, his mind, to shut out the sound. A buzzing. A distant, muted hum like a great swarm5 of bees.
Loyce gazed up, rigid17 with horror. The splotch of darkness, hanging over the City Hall. Darkness so thick it seemed almost solid. In the vortex something moved. Flickering18 shapes. Things, descending19 from the sky, pausing momentarily above the City Hall, fluttering over it in a dense15 swarm and then dropping silently onto the roof.
Shapes. Fluttering shapes from the sky. From the crack of darkness that hung above him.
He was seeing—them.
They were landing. Coming down in groups, landing on the roof of the City Hall and disappearing inside. They had wings. Like giant insects of some kind. They flew and fluttered and came to rest—and then crawled crab-fashion, sideways, across the roof and into the building.
He was sickened. And fascinated. Cold night wind blew around him and he shuddered22. He was tired, dazed with shock. On the front steps of the City Hall were men, standing23 here and there. Groups of men coming out of the building and halting for a moment before going on.
Were there more of them?
It didn't seem possible. What he saw descending from the black chasm24 weren't men. They were alien—from some other world, some other dimension. Sliding through this slit25, this break in the shell of the universe. Entering through this gap, winged insects from another realm of being.
On the steps of the City Hall a group of men broke up. A few moved toward a waiting car. One of the remaining shapes started to re-enter the City Hall. It changed its mind and turned to follow the others.
Loyce closed his eyes in horror. His senses reeled. He hung on tight, clutching at the sagging fence. The shape, the man-shape, had abruptly26 fluttered up and flapped after the others. It flew to the sidewalk and came to rest among them.
Pseudo-men. Imitation men. Insects with ability to disguise themselves as men. Like other insects familiar to Earth. Protective coloration. Mimicry27.
Loyce pulled himself away. He got slowly to his feet. It was night. The alley was totally dark. But maybe they could see in the dark. Maybe darkness made no difference to them.
He left the alley cautiously and moved out onto the street. Men and women flowed past, but not so many, now. At the bus-stops stood waiting groups. A huge bus lumbered28 along the street, its lights flashing in the evening gloom.
Loyce moved forward. He pushed his way among those waiting and when the bus halted he boarded it and took a seat in the rear, by the door. A moment later the bus moved into life and rumbled29 down the street.
Loyce relaxed a little. He studied the people around him. Dulled, tired faces. People going home from work. Quite ordinary faces. None of them paid any attention to him. All sat quietly, sunk down in their seats, jiggling with the motion of the bus.
The man sitting next to him unfolded a newspaper. He began to read the sports section, his lips moving. An ordinary man. Blue suit. Tie. A businessman, or a salesman. On his way home to his wife and family.
Across the aisle30 a young woman, perhaps twenty. Dark eyes and hair, a package on her lap. Nylons and heels. Red coat and white angora sweater. Gazing absently ahead of her.
A high school boy in jeans and black jacket.
A great triple-chinned woman with an immense shopping bag loaded with packages and parcels. Her thick face dim with weariness.
Ordinary people. The kind that rode the bus every evening. Going home to their families. To dinner.
Going home—with their minds dead. Controlled, filmed over with the mask of an alien being that had appeared and taken possession of them, their town, their lives. Himself, too. Except that he happened to be deep in his cellar instead of in the store. Somehow, he had been overlooked. They had missed him. Their control wasn't perfect, foolproof.
Maybe there were others.
Hope flickered31 in Loyce. They weren't omnipotent32. They had made a mistake, not got control of him. Their net, their field of control, had passed over him. He had emerged from his cellar as he had gone down. Apparently33 their power-zone was limited.
A few seats down the aisle a man was watching him. Loyce broke off his chain of thought. A slender man, with dark hair and a small mustache. Well-dressed, brown suit and shiny shoes. A book between his small hands. He was watching Loyce, studying him intently. He turned quickly away.
Loyce tensed. One of them? Or—another they had missed?
The man was watching him again. Small dark eyes, alive and clever. Shrewd. A man too shrewd for them—or one of the things itself, an alien insect from beyond.
The bus halted. An elderly man got on slowly and dropped his token into the box. He moved down the aisle and took a seat opposite Loyce.
The elderly man caught the sharp-eyed man's gaze. For a split second something passed between them.
A look rich with meaning.
Loyce got to his feet. The bus was moving. He ran to the door. One step down into the well. He yanked the emergency door release. The rubber door swung open.
"Hey!" the driver shouted, jamming on the brakes. "What the hell—"
Loyce squirmed through. The bus was slowing down. Houses on all sides. A residential34 district, lawns and tall apartment buildings. Behind him, the bright-eyed man had leaped up. The elderly man was also on his feet. They were coming after him.
Loyce leaped. He hit the pavement with terrific force and rolled against the curb. Pain lapped over him. Pain and a vast tide of blackness. Desperately35, he fought it off. He struggled to his knees and then slid down again. The bus had stopped. People were getting off.
Loyce groped around. His fingers closed over something. A rock, lying in the gutter36. He crawled to his feet, grunting37 with pain. A shape loomed38 before him. A man, the bright-eyed man with the book.
Loyce kicked. The man gasped39 and fell. Loyce brought the rock down. The man screamed and tried to roll away. "Stop! For God's sake listen—"
He struck again. A hideous40 crunching41 sound. The man's voice cut off and dissolved in a bubbling wail42. Loyce scrambled43 up and back. The others were there, now. All around him. He ran, awkwardly, down the sidewalk, up a driveway. None of them followed him. They had stopped and were bending over the inert44 body of the man with the book, the bright-eyed man who had come after him.
Had he made a mistake?
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1
sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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2
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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3
burrowing
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| v.挖掘（洞穴），挖洞( burrow的现在分词 )；翻寻 | |
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4
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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5
swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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6
shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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7
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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8
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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9
antenna
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| n.触角，触须；天线 | |
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10
gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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11
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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12
cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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13
cone
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| n.圆锥体，圆锥形东西，球果 | |
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14
denser
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| adj. 不易看透的, 密集的, 浓厚的, 愚钝的 | |
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15
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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16
frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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17
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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18
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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19
descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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20
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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22
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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23
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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24
chasm
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| n.深坑，断层，裂口，大分岐，利害冲突 | |
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25
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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26
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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27
mimicry
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| n.（生物）拟态，模仿 | |
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28
lumbered
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| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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29
rumbled
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| 发出隆隆声，发出辘辘声( rumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 轰鸣着缓慢行进； 发现…的真相； 看穿（阴谋） | |
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30
aisle
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| n.（教堂、教室、戏院等里的）过道，通道 | |
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31
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
omnipotent
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| adj.全能的，万能的 | |
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33
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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34
residential
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| adj.提供住宿的；居住的；住宅的 | |
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35
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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36
gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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37
grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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38
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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39
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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40
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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41
crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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42
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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43
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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44
inert
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| adj.无活动能力的，惰性的；迟钝的 | |
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