Involuntarily, Mrs. Morris screamed. ‘Up this way!’ she cried senselessly, knowing no
sense, no reason. Perhaps she saw something from the corners of her eyes; perhaps she
smelled a new odor or heard a new noise. There was no time to argue with Henry to
265 convince him. Let him think her insane. Yes, insane! Shrieking, she ran upstairs. He ran after
her to see what she was up to. ‘In the attic!’ she screamed. ‘That's where it is!’ It was only a
poor excuse to get him in the attic in time. Oh, God - in time!
Another explosion outside. The children screamed with delight, as if at a great
fireworks display.
270 ‘It's not in the attic,’ cried Henry. ‘It's outside!’
‘No, no!’ Wheezing, gasping, she fumbled at the attic door. ‘I'll show you. Hurry! I'll
show you!’
They tumbled into the attic. She slammed the door, locked it, took the key, threw it
into a far, cluttered corner.
275 She was babbling wild stuff now. It came out of her. All the subconscious suspicion
and fear that had gathered secretly all afternoon and fermented like a wine in her. All the
little revelations and knowledges and sense that had bothered her all day and which she had
logically and carefully and sensibly rejected and censored. Now it exploded in her and shook
her to bits.
280 ‘There, there,’ she said, sobbing against the door. ‘We're safe until tonight. Maybe we can
sneak out. Maybe we can escape!’
Henry blew up too, but for another reason. ‘Are you crazy? Why'd you throw that key
away? Damn it, honey!’
‘Yes, yes, I'm crazy, if it helps, but stay here with me!’
285 ‘I don't know how in hell I can get out!’
‘Quiet. They'll hear us. Oh, God, they'll find us soon enough - ‘
Below them, Mink's voice. The husband stopped. There was a great universal
humming and sizzling, a screaming and giggling. Downstairs the audio-televisor buzzed and
buzzed insistently, alarmingly, violently. Is that Helen calling? thought Mrs. Morris. And is
290 she calling about what I think she's calling about?
Footsteps came into the house. Heavy footsteps.
‘Who's coming in my house?’ demanded Henry angrily. ‘Whose tramping around
down there?’
Heavy feet. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty of them. Fifty persons crowding into the house.
295 The humming. The giggling of the children. ‘This way!’ cried Mink, below.
‘Who's downstairs?’ roared Henry. ‘Who's there!’
‘Hush. Oh, nononononono!’ said his wife weakly, holding him. ‘Please, be quiet. They
might go away.’
‘Mom?’ called Mink. ‘Dad?’ A pause. ‘Where are you?’
300 Heavy footsteps, heavy, heavy, very heavy footsteps, came up the stairs. Mink leading them.
‘Mom?’ A hesitation. ‘Dad?’ A waiting, a silence.
Humming. Footsteps toward the attic. Mink's first.
They trembled together in silence in the attic, Mr. and Mrs. Morris. For some reason
the electric humming, the queer cold light suddenly visible under the door crack, the strange
305 odor and the alien sound of eagerness in Mink's voice finally got through to Henry Morris
too. He stood, shivering, in the dark silence, his wife beside him.
‘Mom! Dad!’
Footsteps. A little humming sound. The attic-lock melted. The door opened. Mink
peered inside, tall blue shadows behind her.
310 ‘Peekaboo,’ said Mink