by Allen Wold
A sound overhead made him move back to the dubious shelter of a withered loblolly pine. Coming down from the Research Triangle Park was an alien skyfighter. From its course, it seemed to be heading toward Fayetteville. It passed right overhead, and then slowed, swinging back in an arc.
His truck stood in plain sight, out in the field. The skyfighter passed over it once, then turned to come back again. Quickly, Durk tied the goat to the tree, then walked boldly back toward the fence, hitching up his pants as if he'd just stepped over to relieve himself. He looked up at the skyfighter, hovering twenty feet up, refastened his belt buckle, wiped his hands on his jeans, and reached into the back of the truck for a shovel. The skyfighter turned and sailed off.
Continuing his sham, Durk took the shovel to the fence line and began digging at one of the leaning posts. He straightened the post, packed the dirt back in, then dropped the shovel and went over the fence again.
The goat, in spite of its weakness, was strangely nervous. Durk untied it and carried it onto the sand. When he put the animal down, it tried to go back toward the fence. Durk pulled off his belt and whipped the animal, driving it deeper into the sand barrens. He followed it only a short way.
The goat, weak after this little exertion, and obviously frightened, bent its head to chew at some snake grass. It was facing Durk and did not see the moving mound of sand coming up behind it. As big as a basketball, the mound cruised through the sand, avoiding the trees and plant roots. Durk watched in paralyzed fascination. He hadn't expected anything to happen so soon.
The moving sand mound, now only a hundred feet from the goat, must have made some sound because the animal suddenly raised its head and turned. It bleated once and tried to back away, but the mound accelerated, and suddenly two long snaky tentacles came up from the sand and wrapped themselves around the helpless goat. The goat screamed, and then the tentacles dragged it down under the surface. The sand roiled for a moment, and then was still.
Whatever was under the sand was either eating the goat right there or it was going back deeper, because there was no movement now, no mound skimming just under the surface.
Durk felt something warm and wet running down his pants leg and looked down at himself. He didn't have to just fake taking a leak now, he thought.
He backed away from the spot until he felt his feet on firmer soil. Looking around, he found the tree where he'd left the rope and went to retrieve it. It was hard to do because he couldn't take his eyes off the place where the goat had disappeared. But at last he got his hand on one end and, continuing to back to the fence, coiled the rope sloppily over his arm. He made it over the fence in one step and then ran toward the truck. He didn't remember opening or closing the door. He was just suddenly driving like hell back across his fields. Good, solid clay fields, where no sand-demon could go.
Chapter 4
The skyfighter from the Research Triangle Park landed on the roof of a building next to an enclosed compound. Peter Frye and his four friends were unloaded and marched down a flight of stairs into the building where, although they had been searched and relieved of all personal possessions back at campus, they were searched again. The Visitors did not concern themselves with gender propriety.
When the humiliation was ended, the five students were ushered through the building into a large area like a military compound. The ground was hard and bare, barrackslike buildings stood in rows, and the whole compound was surrounded by a high, heavy-duty chain-link fence with three strands of barbed wire at the top.
Edna was crying, and Dave was trying not to, and Peter didn't feel too cheerful himself. Benny kept a blank face, and Greta was quietly angry.
There were other men and women in the camp, most of them older than Peter and his friends. They stood or walked aimlessly across the bare earth. Beyond the fence to one side were other buildings; these were larger and were contained within their own fences. The other three sides were wilderness, pine scrub, and barren field.
"Welcome to Camp T-3," a tall black man said, coming up to them as they stood there in fear and confusion. His sardonic expression belied the friendliness of his words.
"Where are we?" Peter asked. Edna tried to pull herself together as two or three other prisoners came up to join them.
"I don't know for sure," the black man said. "Somewhere on the coastal plains—you can tell by the sand." He turned to look around the three sides of the compound that faced the wilderness. "They like their camps to have sand," he said, turning back. "I'm Cliff Upton."
Peter introduced himself and his friends. The three other prisoners, wearing civilian clothes which looked as if they had been doing service for months without a change, nodded in response.
"You the ones that trashed the Visitor liaison office at UNC?" the woman named Susan Green asked.
"Uh, yeah," Dave said. "How'd you hear about it?"
"The lizards don't care who's listening when they talk," Susan answered.
"I need a bathroom," Edna said.
"First door on the left, any building, either end," a man named Bryan Ricardo told her. "Knock before you go in if you're sensitive about that kind of thing."
"Let's get you some bunks," the third man, Chuck Lamont, said. He was quite a bit older than the others, and seemed more resigned to his fate and hence more gentle about it. "You all will want to stick together, there's plenty of room. Come along."
The five students followed him across the compound, with the other three prisoners walking beside them.
"What's going to happen?" Greta asked. Her eyes kept searching the fence, checking out the scrub and brush beyond the chain link.
"Today," Cliff said, "nothing. Tomorrow you'll be tested and maybe put to work in one of those buildings over there." He jerked his head at the larger buildings behind them.
"Food's not bad," Chuck said, "if you're a vegetarian. No meat for the prisoners. You'll get plenty to eat, however."
"How long have you been here?" Dave asked him.
"Since the camp opened about three months ago." They came to one of the barracks buildings. "But I was arrested two weeks after the Visitors first came to Earth. I've seen a lot of people come and go."
"When will they set our sentences?" Peter asked as they entered the barracks. Bunks lined both walls. There were no lockers. They paused a moment while Edna stepped into the small bathroom, which smelled.
"You gotta be kidding," Susan Green said. "You stay here as long as they want you. You leave only when they find some use for you."
"You have to realize," Bryan said, "you have no rights here at all. As far as the lizards are concerned, we're just animals. They keep us this well because it serves their purposes, not because of any human feeling."
"Anybody ever escape?" Greta asked.
"Nope," Cliff said.
"That fence looks easy to climb," Greta went on.
"It is," Chuck said, glancing at his companions. Edna came out and they went to find their bunks.
"Then how come you don't try to get out?" Greta wanted to know.
"Did you see that strip of bare sand around the compound, just outside the fence?"
"They keep dogs out there?"
"Something like that. Some fool gives us a demonstration every couple of days. You wait until you see before you try making a break. Here you go, five bunks together. Supper will be in about an hour and a half. Why don't you just set here a spell and get used to the idea that you're not going anywhere the lizards don't want you to go? We'll be outside."
The four prisoners nodded at the young newcomers and went on out the door at the other end of the barracks. Edna, unable to control herself further, threw herself down on a bunk, sobbing.
Dr. Lucia Van Oort poured the last of the Hennesy into two snifters, put them on a tray, and carried them into the bedroom where her husband, Ralph, was already under the sheet. "It's going to be Sebastiani after this," she said, handing him one of the glasses.
Ralph put down the papers he wa
s shuffling through so that he could swirl the brandy in his glass. "Maybe we ought to switch to bourbon," he said.
Lucia took a sip of her own brandy and was just about to get into bed when the doorbell rang. She exchanged glances with her husband. It was nearly ten o'clock, and these days few people went calling at that hour.
"I'll get it," Ralph said. He threw off the sheet, threw on a robe, and walked down the hall to the living room. After only a moment's hesitation, Lucia put her own robe back on and followed him.
Ralph opened the front door and over his still-broad shoulders Lucia could see Penny Carmichal and JoAnn Hirakawa on the front step. Ralph let them in quickly, then closed and relocked the door.
"Sorry we got you out of bed," JoAnn said as they all moved into the living room. "We didn't want to call; I think the phone line's tapped again."
"That's all right," Lucia said. "Would you like some coffee?"
"No thanks," Penny said. "We're not going to stay any longer than we have to. Ever since those students broke into the UNC liaison offices, the lizards have been tighter with their security than usual. We got stopped twice on our way over here."
"Were you searched?" Ralph asked with some concern. He didn't know the purpose of their visit, but it was obvious to him that they wouldn't be here except on important business that the Visitors might like to learn about.
"Both times," JoAnn said, "but we brought nothing with us. Except this." She held out an envelope that had been torn open. Lucia took it and looked inside. It contained an official-looking but totally specious memo to the effect that Lucia's withholding figures had been found to be in error and the payroll department wanted to set things straight first thing in the morning. "You, uh, forgot to take this with you when you left," JoAnn added, to fill Lucia in on their cover in case she was asked.
"Thanks," Lucia said dryly. "I'll see to it, of course. So, could you make any sense out of that report?"
"I think I'll go back to bed," Ralph said. "The less I know about this the better." With a nod at the two younger scientists, he left the room.
"There's really not much to say," JoAnn said when she heard the bedroom door close. "But the implications are disturbing."
"We sorted through everything twice," Penny went on, "including a few new messages somebody left at the drop behind ITA. The Visitors are engaged in a breeding program for sure, involving two separate species of animals. All indications are that both species are alien."
"As we had first guessed," JoAnn continued, "the smaller species is a herbivore. The factors they're looking for are a high rate of breeding, efficient conversion of plant matter to animal protein, and adaptability to a range of environments we haven't figured out yet."
"I'd guess," Lucia said, "that that's their basic food stock. Any idea what it's like?"
"Mammalian," Penny said. "Size somewhere between a house cat and a cocker spaniel. Litters four times a year, six to ten pups each time. Diurnal, easily managed, no byproducts noted."
"Seems like a perfectly reasonable project," Lucia said. "Lord knows we can't keep them fed with our own animals. What about the other species?"
"Carniverous," JoAnn said. "Maybe the size of a burro or donkey. We think it's reptilian, but we can't be sure. We know at least that it's hairless. And this is the disturbing part. The lizards seem to be trying for size, strength, speed, and ferocity. What the hell do the Visitors need attack animals for?"
"I'm sure I have no idea, but maybe Dr. Marino can fit that in with whatever else she's been learning about their activities. Is that all?"
"For right now," Penny said. "We'd thought you'd better know, in case Marino and Casey told you more that helps make sense out of all this."
"You know just as much as I do," Lucia said, "but thanks for coming by." She got up and led them to the front door. "Be careful going home."
When they were gone she went back to the bedroom, slipped out of her robe, and got under the sheet. She sipped idly at her brandy while Ralph, having put aside his papers again, watched her quietly.
"Wolves," Lucia said, half to herself. "Why would they want to breed wolves?"
It was shortly after eight o'clock in the morning when Durk Attweiler came to the intersection of Columbia and Cameron, where three days ago he'd seen the unfortunate students being loaded into an alien paddy wagon. This time, instead of driving by, he turned right on Cameron and entered the campus. Though classes had already started, there were still a number of students walking along the street. Durk pulled over to the curb, rolled down the window on the passenger side, and called out to a young fellow who looked like a football player.
"Excuse me," he said. "I'm trying to find, uh, Professor Morton Barnes."
"Don't know him," the student called back. "Go up to the second driveway on the right, and you'll be right next to Memorial. Information is inside."
"Thanks," Durk called. He went as directed, parked in a visitor's parking space ("Small v on that," he muttered to himself), and went up the stairs to the building's front door. He felt conspicuous in his old, worn clothes. There was a time, he knew, when jeans and such were popular attire among college students, but now few people wore other than slacks and sport shirts. One of the girls who'd been arrested yesterday, he remembered, had affected a pseudofarm style. He put the thought out of his mind.
Inside, to the left of the door, was an office with a sign above the door identifying it as the place he wanted. A woman behind a desk looked up as he entered and smiled, though the smile was strained. At first Durk thought she was disapproving of him, but then he remembered again the troubles of three days ago.
"I'm looking for Professor Morton Barnes—I think," Durk said, unsure of himself.
"Just a moment," the woman said, and opened a campus directory. "His office is room three-oh-nine, the Smythe Building. Do you know where that is?"
"No, I surely don't."
"Here." She took out a map printed on a single sheet of paper and turned it toward him on the desk. "You're here," she said, marking a building with a red x. "Smythe is just across the way here." She marked another building.
"Okay. Uh, can I leave my truck here?"
"Surely, and you can keep the map."
"Thank you." He nodded and left.
He could see Smythe from the steps, across Cameron and set back sixty yards from it. Folding the map and putting it in his pocket, he started across the street, watching for traffic, of which there was little, and Visitors, of which there were none that he could see. The first door he tried in Smythe led into a classroom where a lecture was in progress. Embarrassed, he backed out and went around the side to another door, this one giving access to a lobby with stairs running up both sides.
Room 309 was at the north end of the third floor. The professor's name was on the door, and it was open a crack. Durk paused, caught his breath, settled his determination, and knocked at the door frame.
"Come on in," he heard the professor answer. No secretary? Durk slid inside, more self-conscious than ever about his clothes and the faint aroma of barnyard that clung to him.
"Professor Barnes?" he said. "I'm Durk Attweiler. We sort of met a couple days ago at the FCX."
"Ah, yes, I remember. You witnessed those unfortunate students being taken off."
"Yes, sir. You said something about some kind of animal they have guarding those prison camps those kids will be sent to."
"Ye-e-s, at least that's what Kenny Borgman told me in his letter."
"Well, I think there may be one of those things in the sand fields near my farm."
"Indeed. And what makes you think so?"
"Couple weeks ago I saw a deer out there, and it just disappeared, sucked right down into the ground. Kinda frightening, but what the hell, maybe I wasn't seeing things right. It was a ways off. But then three days ago, after hearing what you said, I took a goat up to the same place. Just a sick one, it woulda died in a couple of weeks anyway. Took it across the fence and drove it out on
to the sand flats."
"Just a minute," Barnes said. He got up from his desk, went around to the door, looked out into the hall, and then closed it carefully. "Sit down," he said, all trace of condescension gone. "What happened to the goat?"
Durk sat on the edge of a chair. "You see those movies about submarines? How they come along under the water, and all you see is a wake moving toward the enemy ship? Well, it was just like that, only it was coming through the sand."
"What was?"
"I don't know. But it came awfully quickly. And when it got to the goat, two big snaky arms came up out of the sand and grabbed the goat and dragged it down."
"How far were you from the goat?"
"Maybe thirty feet. With the deer, there were bushes in the way, and I couldn't see the ground so clear. But this time I wanted to make sure. I don't know what that thing was, but it sure as hell knew the goat was there, and took it. I didn't see it going back."
"How long were the tentacles?" Barnes asked, scribbling on a sheet of paper.
"I couldn't say for sure—six or seven feet or so. They didn't have suckers on 'em as far as I could see. Is that the same kind of critter they've got guarding the prison camps?"
"It sounds like it, Mr. Attweiler. Why did you decide to tell me about it?"
"You were talking about it and I overheard your name. I didn't know who else to go to."
"I see. Very well, Mr. Attweiler, I do know people to go to, and I'll tell them about this." He wrote a few more words and then stood up. "Thank you for coming to see me," he said, extending his hand.
"Sure thing, Professor," Durk answered, getting to his feet as well. "I just felt somebody ought to know." He accepted the proffered hand, then turned and left the office.
Morton Barnes watched him leave, then sat back down in his chair. The farmer had been right. If one of those prison animals had escaped, somebody ought to do something about it. He picked up his phone.
