"Wouldn't be like them to miss out on their fun. "But you're not a killer." Chilling, convincing and perceptive take on a dystopian world. A library, consisting of at least fifty thousand volumes, was housed in the last room off that second tunnel, just before the second junction on that level. "You're mad at me." She took the money, put it away in a closet, and gave me half a day's wages, which I tucked into a pocket of my jeans. Mary Vanaletto had that same sadistic need, and as I watched Jelly hold her hand and pat her shoulder and generally -make nice with her, I required all my self-restraint to keep from tearing him away from her and yelling, "Run!" Others would simply flee to wilderness areas and hide out, running forays into towns and villages only when they needed to steal supplies . The sounds overhead did not diminish. "Poor, uneducated, unwilling to be educated, ignorant. She had known suffering, and she had triumphed over it, and if she had made mistakes, even monstrous mistakes, she had had her reasons. I knew the folklore, and I had overheard some of the warnings my parents had been given, and when I began to see the goblins, I wondered if my mind had begun to fail me. He folded his huge hands on the table. We reached the tunnel where the double row of ceiling lamps, burning under conical shades, threw a checkerboard pattern of light and shadow on the stone floor, the place where I had shot a goblin. "But I'm not that broke. "What is your human name?" "West Virginia. Nevertheless I sat with face in hands, making a mask of my palms and fingers, reluctant to reach out and touch her, afraid of what I might have done. Two steps, a jump. It was not in use now. They appeared to shimmer in the humid air, not much like electric illumination but rather like the camp fires and oil lamps in a primitive settlement of an earlier era. Their plan was to complete shelters on every continent at the same time that the engines of nuclear destruction reached a level of perfection equivalent to those in the lost age that had ended in the War. "No. . There's a temptation to enjoy what we have together and to say to hell with everyone else. A shudder of dread passed through me, but I didn't know if I should be afraid of him or of something that would happen to him. if they open the door a crack, I can push it all the way and see even the stuff they're trying to hide from me. (I did not give a single thought to how my energy level would be sustained without food. well, I see some qualities every bit as attractive as her face." Fire flies flickered on all sides of us and flitted by on lantern-lit missions beyond our understanding. But somehow I could not get into the music as I usually did. I reached up and touched Rya's smooth brow, touched her elegantly sculpted temple and cheek, her lips. and being in bed with both of them..... my mother and him . His eyes were a strange shade of pale amber, like sun-yellowed paper. They eagerly seek out victims. . The dead woods seemed to be doing an imitation of life. Didn't make it up to that old tumbling-down mine entrance till midnight Wednesday. With bovine calm she was sure that someone would come along to take care of her and the baby. As in a nightmare, we ran without seeming to go anywhere with infinite rows of travel trailers bracketing us, ran for what seemed like ten minutes, twenty, on and on, but I knew that Gibtown-on-Wheels was not that big, knew that my sense of time was distorted by hysteria, and actually it must have been less than a minute before we broke out of the trailers into open field. Why are you like this?" "Slim, we're here on a bigger mission than saving one life. But he was stricken by another tragedy when the den of them disappeared without a trace. But he was proud. time is needed . I opened my eyes. "Terrible," Irma agreed, shaking her head sadly. Rya sat up front with her. I heard movement behind me. Mothers, fathers, wives and husbands, sons and daughters, friends-they are taken from you all your life, and the pain of loss and loneliness that their passing leaves within you is a more profound suffering than the brief flare of pain and the fear of the unknown that accompanies your own death. I admire you for it. I said, "How's business?" And what about these legends you spoke of?" She said, "Death." Still, I thought I knew what they were discussing: They were going to come down- to have a look in the branch pipes. Gripping the edges of the drain mouth, I pulled myself up, rolled out onto the powerhouse floor. . Spiders of guilt scurried up my spine and settled in my heart to feed upon me. Any killer of goblins would -seem to have the right stuff. No. After all, they were psychic vampires that fed on our physical and mental and emotional pain, and considering the wickedly rich diet of human agony in which they regularly indulged, other food seemed superfluous. Feeding their twisted needs with human suffering. When the door closed behind us with a thump, I jumped. "I know. The accident had been staged. Absolute." The first inch came up in chunks, but farther down the soil was looser, precisely the opposite of what ought to have been. what else do I want?" To our captive I said, "When will the war occur?" The carnival had become my family, and it was a good family, the best, but there was great sadness in the realization that most likely I would never go home again and that the sisters and mother I had loved in my youth were, though still living, dead to me. . . With a swiftness that would have done credit to a demolitions expert, she plugged detonators into each of the three charges that I had shaped into depressions in the rock wall above the three elevators. It was like anybody else's hand, though bigger. Where do they come from? "They were that bad)" "That bad. As I understand it, many of them abhor the thought of another nuclear war . It would be like fighting quicksand. From four o'clock until five, when the relief pitchman showed up, my spirits rose steadily, for I saw no more of my enemy. "See, after my Etta died of cancer, I was sort of adrift, lost, and I was full of all this terrible tension, the tension of loneliness and of not knowing where my life was going. Contrasts After a late lunch, after we got back on the highway for the last hour and a half of the return trip, memories of Yontsdown were still weighing heavily on me, and I could no longer tolerate the strain of having to participate in the conversation and laugh at Jelly's jokes, even though some of them were quite funny. . Shaking myself to fling off the disabling dread that had gripped me, I said, "Quick.

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