How can you be sure?
Maybe half a mile.
I can't make half a mile.
Then it's an eighth of a mile.
I fell.
I didn't get up.
Darkness? warmth? softness like cotton blankets? a cup of warm cocoa? happiness
As the vision drew me in, fear suddenly exploded and blew the image to pieces. I got up, licking my lips. I started walking, wondered if I were still going eastward, kept going.
I fell again.
I got up as far as my hands and knees, my head hanging down-and I realized that I was kneeling in a circle of pale yellow light. A shudder passed through me as I pictured half a dozen yellow-eyed creatures closing in around me, casting an eerie luminous glow before them. But
I looked up and found that the light was coming from one of the farmhouse windows not more than ten feet away.
A minute later I fell against the front door, pounded on it, called for Connie, wept.
The door opened.
'Don!'
I stumbled inside, leaned against her when she offered a shoulder, and said, disbelievingly: 'I'm home.'
SATURDAY 12:00-1:00 A.M
The Attack
14
I didn't see it, of course. I cannot know. I can't retell it with perfect confidence in the tale. Never theless, it must have happened something like this:
A small herd of deer was sheltered in the forest where the snow didn't drift to such heights as it reached out in the open fields. They fed on the tough but juicy leaves of winter brush, on crow's foot and holly, on cold weather berries, of various sorts, on tender bark, and on those mushrooms that had survived far enough into the autumn to be quick-frozen by a sudden change in the seasons.
One buck fed at the edge of the herd. He nibbled on strips of peeling birch bark.
The wind was high above the trees, a distant howling like wolves held at bay by mounted hunters.
Now and again one of the deer would look up into the darkness overhead, never with fear but with curiosity.
The pine boughs-for this part of the forest was mostly pines-protected the deer from the worst of the storm.
The alien moved noiselessly through the trees.
The buck paused in his meal.
The alien came closer.
The buck stopped chewing, blew steam, drew breath, tilted his magnificent head, listened, snorted, went back to the birch bark.
The alien closed in on him.
Suddenly aware of the foul odor of ammonia, the buck finally raised its proud head. It sniffed and shook its antlers and let a half-chewed mouthful of bark drop to the ground.
Some of the other deer turned to watch it.
The buck sniffed again.
By now all twenty-odd members of the herd had caught the ripe scent. None of them were interested in food any longer. They were motionless, except for their long eye lashes which trembled and except for their nostrils which, beaded with moisture, also trembled. They were waiting for the worst, hearts racing, ears pricked up
The alien stopped ten yards away.
Snowflakes melted on the buck's nose.
The wind moaned. It seemed a bit louder than it had been a moment ago.
The buck stood very still for a while until it saw the huge yellow eyes that were fixed on it. It froze for an instant, then panicked.
The alien moved in quickly.
The buck snorted and reared up on its hind legs — and the alien reached out and took full control of the simple animal mind.
One of the does squealed.
Then another: contagion.
The herd thundered away down the forest trail, white tails puffed up behind them, their hoofbeats silenced by the blanket of snow that misted up around them.
Only the buck remained.
The alien came out from the deep brush, shoving aside the jagged brambles and blackberry vines, snow pluming up from its many legs. It stepped onto the narrow path between the pines and approached the deer.
The buck blinked, quivered.
The other being immediately soothed it. Standing before the animal, the alien carefully examined it for all of half a minute, as if learning the uses of the beast, then turned away and lumbered down the trail in the direction that the herd had gone.
Head lowered, large brown eyes wide, the buck followed without hesitation. Its tongue lolled between its lips. Its tail was tucked down now: brilliant white side concealed, dull gray-brown side re vealed.
The two creatures eventually left the woods and came out on a long slope where five other yellow-eyed beings were waiting for them.
The buck snorted when it saw the others.
Its heart thundered, threatened to burst.
The alien responded quickly, stilled the terror, slowed the heart-and kept rigid control.
Silently, they climbed the hill.
The buck was forced to jump through a number of deep drifts that nearly proved too much for it. It kicked and heaved. Its thick haunch and shoulder muscles bunched painfully. Steam spurted from its black nostrils.
Steam rose, too, from the broad, dark, slanted, shiny backs of the six aliens.
Shortly, a house came into sight atop the hill.
A farmhouse.
Timberlake
Farm.
The attack had begun.
15
I took a quick, hot shower, sluicing away some of the chill which had curled like a segmented worm of ice deep inside of me. The worm had anchored it self with a thousand tendrils and could not be entirely torn loose. When I came out of the shower, I discovered that Connie had left a double shot of whiskey, neat, in a squat glass tumbler on the edge of the sink. I sipped at the first shot while I toweled off and dressed. Just before I went
