er the cord in the night," he warned as he blew out the lamp. Then
he bedded down in the corner on the floor.

A short time later he heard her sobbing softly. "What the devil's
wrong?" he snarled disgustedly.

"Thanks, Morgan--thanks," she whispered.

For a moment he felt sorry for her. Apparently she was thanking him
for the bed. Fat boy had evidently taken the best of everything and
given her the crumbs of Lazarus. Such were the mores of chaos. But
Morgan quit congratulating himself. He had chosen the floor because it
looked cleaner than the bed.

He was awakened before dawn by the rapid sputter of rain on the roof.
It dribbled through several holes and spread across the floor. He sat
up shivering. Shera was a glowing cigarette near the window.

"Can't sleep?" he asked.

"I'm scared," she answered.

Faintly he could see her profile silhouetted against the pane. She was
watching outside the cabin.

"I've got a funny feeling--that something's out there."

"Heard anything?"

"Just a feeling."

Morgan felt ice along his sides. "Shera--do you get hunches, feelings,
intuitions very often?" His voice was hushed, worried.

"Yeah."

"Have you always?"

"No--I don't think I used to."

He was silent for a long time; then he hissed, "Are you _sure_ you
haven't been stung recently?"

Another brief silence. Then the girl laughed softly. A wave of
prickles crept along his scalp.

"I've got the shotgun in my lap, Morgan."

* * * * *

"How long?" he whispered in horror.

"Six months."

"_Six months!_ You're lying! You'd be fully depersonalized! You'd be
in complete liaison with Oren!"

"But I'm not. Sometimes I can feel when they're near. That's all."

"But if it were true--your brain would be replaced by the parasite!"

"I wouldn't know. Apparently it's not."

Morgan couldn't believe it. But he sat stunned in the darkness. What
was this thing in the cabin with him? Was she still human? He began
inching along the wall, but a board creaked.

"I don't want to shoot you, Morgan. Don't rush me. Besides--there's
something outside, I tell you."

"Why should _you_ worry about that?--if you've really been stung."

"The first sting evidently didn't take. The next one might. That's
why."

"You weren't sick?"

"During the incubation period? I was sick. Plenty sick."

Morgan shook his head thoughtfully. If she had been through the
violent illness of the parasite's incubatio