slow and regular; obviously he was on the verge of sleep, so the mind thing waited.
Then the male slept, and the mind thing entered his mind. There was a brief but terrible struggle as the ego, the essence, the part of the mind that was Tommy Hoffman, fought back. There was always such a struggle in taking over an intelligent creature. (It was negligible in the case of an animal; it had taken him only a micro-second to enter the small four-legged one less than an hour ago.) But the more intelligent the species, the harder the struggle was; it varied, too, with the degree of intelligence of the individual within the species.
In this case it took him about a second, average for a moderately intelligent creature. Then he had Tommy Hoffman’s mind and, through it, control of Tommy’s body. The whatever-you-want-to-call-it that was Tommy Hoffman was still there, but locked up and helpless, unable to use its own body or its own senses. The mind thing had it, and it could obtain release now only through death. Tommy’s death, or the mind thing’s.
The mind thing now had all of Tommy’s memories and all, such as it was, of his knowledge. But he was going to take time to assimilate all of that, make sense of it, and make his plans from it. First things came first.
And the first thing was to get himself—his own body, into a safe place of concealment. Before some other man or men (he had Tommy’s vocabulary now to think with) might come along and harm or destroy it.
He let everything else go and searched Tommy’s thoughts and memories for a good hiding place, and found one. Half a mile deeper in the woods was a cave in a hillside. A small cave, but a secret one. Tommy had found it years ago, when he was a boy of nine, and had thought of it as his cave and had never shown it to anyone else; to his knowledge no one else knew of its existence. Beside, it had a sandy floor.
Very quietly so as not to awaken the girl (he could have strangled her, of course, but that would be an unnecessary complication; he had no empathy for lesser creatures but neither did he kill wantonly) he got up and started for the path. Since time might be important—someone else might come along that path at any time—he didn’t have his host dress. Tommy wore only a pair of blue socks; his other garments—shoes, shorts, trousers, and a shirt lay in a pile beside where he had been lying.
Just before he parted the bushes to leave the secluded spot he looked back to make sure the girl was still sleeping. She was, her young body completely nude. Not even socks in her case, since she’d been wearing barefoot sandals to begin with. He knew, from Tommy’s mind, why they hadn’t put their clothes on after the act. The sun had felt pleasantly warm on their naked bodies, and besides Tommy had hoped that after a short nap—they knew one or the other would waken within half an hour—he would be able to—“go another round” was the phrase that had been in Tommy’s mind. Obviously these creatures got considerable pleasure out of copulation. And also, although they always wore clothing except in privacy, from the sight and touch of one another’s naked bodies.
At the path he picked himself up and started off at a trot in the direction of the cave he had found in Tommy’s mind, the cave that would be his hiding place, at least for a while.
Probing Tommy’s mind, he learned the answer to something that had puzzled him—why Tommy and the girl had seen him but had not stopped to investigate. Superficially, seen from above, he somewhat resembled an Earth (he knew the name of the planet now) creature called a turtle. To a casual glance he was a turtle about five inches long, with its feet and head pulled into its shell. Turtles were slow-moving and unintelligent; they did not bother humans, and humans seldom bothered them. True, they were edible—the concept and taste of turtle soup came to him—but unless he was hunting turtles a human would be unlikely to pick up and take home a single one only his size; it would weigh about two pounds, about his own weight, but it would yield only a few ounces of edible meat; not enough, except to a starving man, to be worth the trouble of killing and dissecting it.
That accidental resemblance had saved him. That and the actions of the field mouse while it had been his host. What he had done with the field mouse had been the right thing, if for the wrong reasons; another lucky accident. They had not been afraid of it nor would they have chased it off the path. But by biting the girl when she had picked it up and then attacking the boy when the girl dropped it, it had aroused fear that it had had something called rabies and that it might have infected the girl by biting her. And that fear had caused Tommy to rush the girl to their trysting place so they could check to see whether she had really been bitten; otherwise they would have continued to stroll leisurely and might well have stopped when the girl had said “Look, a turtle” for a closer look. And a closer look would have shown them—well, from above they’d only have decided it was a species of turtle they hadn’t seen before, but that might have led one of them to pick it up for a closer look. And that would have been bad, because they would then have seen that it wasn’t a turtle at all. Instead of having a plastrum, or bottom shell, under the carapace, it was one continuous shell with no openings for head or feet. They, or someone they took it to, might all too well have decided to crack it open to see what was inside. And that would have been all for the mind thing; even if it had found itself a host meanwhile it would have died in its host as well as in its own body. The mental extension of itself that controlled a host could not have independent existence.
Now he made Tommy sprint until he was well out of sight from the path and then, having learned that he could not keep up that pace for the half mile to the cave, slowed him down to a jog trot.
The entrance to the cave was small; one had to get down on hands and knees to go through it and, the mind thing saw with satisfaction, it was well screened by bushes.
Inside it was dim but, even through Tommy’s eyes, he could see. But through Tommy’s memory as well as Tommy’s eyes he had a full picture of the place. (His sense of perception, which was independent of light or dark, functioned only when he was, sans host, in his own body. When in a host he was dependent upon the host’s sensory organs, whatever they might be.) The cave wasn’t a large one; it went back about twenty feet, and at its widest place, near the center, it was about six feet wide, and only at that point was it high enough for a man to stand erect.
At about that point the mind thing had Tommy put him down and then scrabble with his hands a hole in the sand. About nine inches down his/Tommy’s hands found rock. He had Tommy put him down in the hole and then cover him and smooth the ground carefully. Then, on hands and knees, back to the entrance Tommy went, smoothing away as he backed the marks he had made coming in. The sand was as smooth now as when he had entered.
And he had Tommy sit just outside the cave entrance—but screened and hidden by the same bushes that hid the entrance itself—and wait.
Now there was no hurry. He was safely hidden now and he could take his time to digest all the knowledge that was in Tommy’s mind, to catalogue it and, using it as a basis, to lay his own long-range plans.
And to lay short-range plans for his host. Already he knew that Tommy’s mind was not the one he needed, ultimately, to control. But Tommy would serve for a while. Tommy probably had an average—but no better than average—I.Q. for his race (at least that was the way Tommy thought of himself), but he was only partly educated and had no knowledge whatsoever of science beyond a very few and extremely elementary principles.
But Tommy could serve him—for a while.
CHAPTER THREE
Charlotte Garner awoke, as suddenly and completely as a kitten awakens, completely oriented even before she opened her eyes. Her naked body felt uncomfortably cool and she shivered a little and then, opening her eyes, saw why the coolness had wakened her. She’d gone to sleep in warm sunlight, now she was in shadow. That meant the sun was low in the west, down behind the thick bushes at that end of the open space. Startled, she held up her wrist watch to read it—and was even more startled. They’d slept three full hours. Even leaving this minute and walking fast, they’d be half an hour late at their respective homes for dinner. Probably their folks, or hers anyway, were beginning to worry a little already.
Quickly she turned over to waken Tommy. Tommy wasn’t there. But his clothes were there, just past where he’d been lying. After a brief shock, she realized what had happened, the only thing that could have happened. Tommy must have wakened a minute or so before she had, and before dressing himself or wakening her, he had gone out of the clearing somewhere nearby to answer a call of nature. He wouldn’t have, couldn’t have, gone any farther than that, for that or for any other reason, without his clothes. He’d be back in a minute.
And since he didn’t carry or wear a watch he probably didn’t realize quite how late it was. But
