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Leroy Davis c.o.c.ked his head as he looked at her. "Doing what?"
"Play cat and mouse like this. Holding us on a pin like flies in an exhibit."
Leroy Davis smiled brightly. "Like a b.u.t.terfly in your case, honey. A big, beautiful b.u.t.terfly."
"What are you going to do," Frank Brooks snapped. "Whatever it is, let's get it over with?"
"Can't you see what I'm doing?" Davis asked with genuine wonder. "Are you that stupid? I'm being the boss. I'm in command and I like it. I hold life and death over four people and I'm savoring the thrill of it.
You're pretty stupid, mister, and if you use that 'can't get away with it' line, I'll put a bullet into your left ear and watch it come out your right one."
Jim Wilson's fists were doubled. He was again approaching the reckless point. And again it was dulled by the gradually increasing sound of a motor--not in the air, but from the street level to the south.
It was a sane, cheerful sound and was resented instantly by the insane mind of Leroy Davis.
He tightened even to the point that his face grew more pale from the tension. He backed to a window, looked out quickly, and turned back.
"It's a jeep," he said. "They're going by the hotel. If anybody makes a move, or yells, they'll find four bodies in here and me gone. That's what I'm telling you and you know I'll do it."
They knew he _would_ do it and they stood silent, trying to dredge up the nerve to make a move. The jeep's motor backfired a couple of times as it approached Madison Street. Each time, Leroy Davis' nerves reacted sharply and the four people kept their eyes trained on the gun in his hand.
The jeep came to the intersection and slowed down. There was a conference between its two occupants--helmeted soldiers in dark brown battle dress. Then the jeep moved on up Clark Street toward Lake.
A choked sigh escaped from Nora's throat. Frank Brooks turned toward her. "Take it easy," he said. "We're not dead yet. I don't think he wants to kill us."
The reply came from Minna. She spoke quietly. "I don't care. I can't stand any more of this. After all, we aren't animals. We're human beings and we have a right to live and die as we please."
Minna walked toward Leroy Davis. "I'm not afraid of your gun any more.
All you can do with it is kill me. Go ahead and do it."
Minna walked up to Leroy Davis. He gaped at her and said, "You're crazy!
Get back there. You're a crazy dame!"
He fired the gun twice and Minna died appreciating the incongruity of his words. She went out on a note of laughter and as she fell, Jim Wilson, with an echoing animal roar, lunged at Leroy Davis. His great hand closed completely over that of Davis, hiding the gun. There was a m.u.f.fled explosion and the bullet cut unnoticed through Wilson's palm.
Wilson jerked the gun from Davis' weak grasp and hurled it away. Then he killed Davis.
He did it slowly, a surprising thing for Wilson. He lifted Davis by his neck and held him with his feet off the floor. He squeezed Davis' neck, seeming to do it with great leisure as Davis made horrible noises and kicked his legs.
Nora turned her eyes away, buried them in Frank Brooks' shoulder, but she could not keep the sounds from reaching her ears. Frank held her close. "Take it easy," he said. "Take it easy." And he was probably not conscious of saying it.
"Tell him to hurry," Nora whispered. "Tell him to get it over with. It's like killing--killing an animal."
"That's what he is--an animal."
Frank Brooks stared in fascination at Leroy Davis' distorted, darkening face. It was beyond semblance of anything human now. The eyes bulged and the tongue came from his mouth as though frantically seeking relief.
The animal sounds quieted and died away. Nora heard the sound of the body falling to the floor--a limp, soft sound of finality. She turned and saw Jim Wilson with his hands still extended and cupped. The terrible hands from which the stench of a terrible life was drifting away into empty air.
Wilson looked down at his handiwork. "He's dead," Wilson said slowly. He turned to face Frank and Nora. There was a great disappointment in his face. "That's all there is to it," he said, dully. "He's just--dead."
Without knowing it for what it was, Jim Wilson was full of the futile aftertaste of revenge.
He bent down to pick up Minna's body. There was a small blue hole in the right cheek and another one over the left eye. With a glance at Frank and Nora, Jim Wilson covered the wounds with his hand as though they were not decent. He picked her up in his arms and walked across the lobby and up the stairs with the slow, quiet tread of a weary man.
The sound of the jeep welled up again, but it was further away now.
Frank Brooks took Nora's hand and they hurried out into the street. As they crossed the sidewalk, the sound of the jeep was drowned by a sudden swelling of the wailings to the northward.
On still a new note, they rose and fell on the still air. A note of panic, of new knowledge, it seemed, but Frank and Nora were not paying close attention. The sounds of the jeep motor had come from the west and they got within sight of the Madison-Well intersection in time to see the jeep hurtle southward at its maximum speed.
Frank yelled and waved his arms, but he knew he had been neither seen nor heard. They were given little time for disappointment however, because a new center of interest appeared to the northward. From around the corner of Washington Street, into Clark, moved three strange figures.
There was a mixture of belligerence and distress in their actions. They carried odd looking weapons and seemed interested in using them upon something or someone, but they apparently lacked the energy to raise them although they appeared to be rather light.
The creatures themselves were humanoid, Frank thought. He tightened his grip on Nora's hand. "They've seen us."
"Let's not run," Nora said. "I'm tired of running. All it's gotten us is trouble. Let's just stand here."
"Don't be foolish."
"I'm not running. You can if you want to."
Frank turned his attention back to the three strange creatures. He allowed natural curiosity full reign. Thoughts of flight vanished from his mind.
"They're so thin--so fragile," Nora said.
"But their weapons aren't."
"It's hard to believe, even seeing them, that they're from another planet."
"How so? They certainly don't look much like us."
"I mean with the talk, for so long, about flying saucers and s.p.a.ce flight and things like that. Here they are, but it doesn't seem possible."
"There's something wrong with them."
This was true. Two of the strange beings had fallen to the sidewalk. The third came doggedly on, dragging one foot after the other until he went to his hands and knees. He remained motionless for a long time, his head hanging limply. Then he too, sank to the cement and lay still.
The wailings from the north now took on a tone of intense agony--great desperation. After that came a yawning silence.
"They defeated themselves," the military man said. "Or rather, natural forces defeated them. We certainly had little to do with it."
Nora, Frank, and Jim Wilson stood at the curb beside a motorcycle. The man on the cycle supported it with a leg propped against the curb as he talked.
"We saw three of them die up the street," Frank said.
"Our scouting party saw the same thing happen. That's why we moved in.
It's about over now. We'll know a lot more about them and where they came from in twenty-four hours."
They had nothing further to say. The military man regarded them thoughtfully. "I don't know about you three. If you ignored the evacuation through no fault of your own and can prove it--"