Event

Mahjtic silently went back to the old bed and crawled up its height and sat down. Its small, three-toed feet dangled two and half feet off the floor as it looked from the old man to the window.

'Aneemal,' it said, mispronouncing the word. 'Destroyer is an aneemal.'

Gus went to the table and sat in one of the two chairs. He put both elbows on his knees and looked at Mahjtic.

'Never heard of no Destroyer, Matchstick.'

It looked at Gus and tilted its head. 'Maaaa-hJ-tiiic,' it said, pronouncing its name phonetically and far more slowly.

The old man heard the correction and the indignant way it was said, but ignored it.

Mahjtic shook its head, then sat up and turned to the window above the bed and pushed the blind aside. 'Mine animal... my animal,' it corrected. 'It is my animal captured for... work... other worlds, it is not from this... place?' It thought a moment. 'It is not of Earth...It...not meant for your--world.'

'You mean you let an animal loose from your spaceship or somethin'?'

The small head shook back and forth quickly. 'Mahjtic not hurt life here. Destroyer escapes.'

'You're savin' this thing, this Destroyer, is dangerous?' Then Gus felt stupid for asking if something called the Destroyer was dangerous.

The head bobbed up and down, up and down, still looking away from Gus and staring into the darkness outside. 'It is danger, danger your world.'

'That one animal brings all this danger? Then he better stay out of East Los Angeles,' Gus said as a small joke.

Mahjtic looked away from the window and into Gus's eyes, confused. 'Forty and eight units, danger, forty-eight units of time from when...' It was trying to think of the right word. 'I... I... boom ship... crash in ship,... forty-eight... hours?'

'Why forty-eight hours?' he asked, not just a little nervously.

'Babies come.'

'I don't follow you.'

Mahjtic squeezed its eyes closed in exasperation. 'Men come here, the mountain, tomorrow, maybe? Men help Mahjtic and Gus when sun comes again?'

'If you're askin' if the cops or army will be coming here, I don't know. In my experience the army sometimes can be a day late and a dollar short, and the cops will probably give you a ticket for crashin' your ship.'

Mahjtic opened its eyes and looked at the old man long and hard. Then it slid from the bed and walked slowly toward Gus. It placed its small right hand on the table and looked at its host with its obsidian eyes. It tilted the large lightbulb-shaped head and concentrated, saying the words as clearly as its voice would allow it.

'The Destroyer has babies in ten more of your time hours. We need the many people of your species that will come to look for ship. When they find my ship, these mens will have to help find Destroyer soon, or too late, too many baby, overwhelm all life on this world. My Gray Masters live here then.'

Gus blinked. The words had been pronounced slowly and clearly, even taking into account the bad quality of their vocalization.

'What makes you think the men will find your spaceship; maybe we should just walk into town and call for help.'

'No, noooo, not in dark, never in dark. Never walk on ground in light-dark. Men will come to mountain, I feel it in here.' The little green hand went to its head. 'Must tell mans about Destroyer, the Talkhan, or too late your world. Some of my Master kind, the Gray ones, want planet, Gussss.' It tilted its head and touched the old man's leg. 'Gus will help Mahjtic?' it asked, eyes blinking.

Gus stood, the hand sliding away from his leg slowly. He felt Mahjtic's eyes on his back as he walked to the window once more and stared through the dirty panes.

'I s'pose I don't have much of a choice, do I?'

He turned from the window and looked at Mahjtic's downcast eyes and then shook his head.

'This is no way to impose on a new friend,' he mumbled, 'by extinctioning him, whatever you just said. But again I ask, I s'pose I haven't a choice, have I?'

It looked up and the small mouth formed the wondering O shape again. 'Gus help?'

'Yeah, Gus will help you, you little shit,' he answered angrily, and pulled down the yellowing blinds to shut out the darkness.

'Gus help little shit' it repeated with awe. Then it thought a moment. The brow furrowed and the eyes narrowed. 'Not shit, Gus, Mahjtic name not shit. What is shit?'

'Shit is what I have a sinking feeling I just stepped into, son.'

TWENTY-THREE

Las Vegas, Nevada

July 9, 01.30 Hours

Staff Sergeant Will Mendenhall placed the CLOSED sign in the window and turned the neon OPEN sign off, and for the first time in years the Gold City Pawnshop was closed for business. He glanced through the large plate- glass window as the buzz of the neon ceased, then he turned to the man standing beside him.

'Okay, that does it. This has to be something big for them to need all the security personnel,' he said, looking at the lance corporal.

'What do you think it is?' the young marine asked.

'I don't know, but to close this gate down for the first time in twenty-some years is definitely out of the norm. The whole complex has gone on a war footing, or at least the highest alert level I've seen here since the attacks on the Trade Center and Pentagon.'

Mendenhall had had little sleep that day and didn't feel like answering too many questions. The skeleton security staff they were leaving behind to guard the gate was on his mind more than whatever alert level they were currently on.

'That does it. We have to take one of the cars in through gate one to pick up some gear and then get to the briefing.'

***

Henri Farbeaux watched the black man hold the door for the smaller one. He had come to full alert when the bright red OPEN sign had been turned off, leaving the area directly in front of the shop barren of light. After the information Reese had given him about the security gate that led to the Event complex and the security team there, he had been prepared to enter and do what he needed to do. But when the lights went out, he had to think on the fly. The pawnshop claimed to be open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, so Farbeaux instinctively knew this was the moment he had waited for. He would have either the complex location or the whereabouts of the crash site.

He placed two dental swatches into his mouth and firmly set them along his jawline, puffing his jowls out to the proper thickness, and then he smiled, not only happy with his disguise, but happy that the late Mr. Reese had been so forthcoming about this magical gate into the Event Group.

Farbeaux quickly opened the car door and crossed the street. As he moved, he took a tube out of his pocket and slid his thumb into position on the top of the small object and stepped to the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding a driver who swerved out of the way at the last moment. The Frenchman clicked the small button on top of the tube.