mself if its beam generators
were repaired, and whose occupants could murder them if they weren't.
But it was most urgent that he get away beyond the military cordon to
find men who would listen to his information and see that use was made
of it. Yet in driving rain and darkness, without car lights and daring
to drive only at a crawl, he might be completely turned around.

"I think," he said at last, "I'll turn in at the next farm gate the
lightning shows us. I'll try to get the car into a barn so it won't
show up at daybreak. We might be heading straight back into the Park!"

He did turn, the next time a lightning flash showed him a turn-off
beside a rural free delivery mailbox. There was a house at the end of
a lane. There was a barn. He got out and was soaked instantly, but he
explored the open space behind the wide, open doors. He backed the car
in.

"So," he explained to Jill, "if we have a chance to move we won't have
to back around first."

They sat in the car and looked out at the rain-filled darkness. There
was no light anywhere except when lightning glittered on the rain. In
such illuminations they made out the farmhouse, dripping floods of
water from its eaves. There was a chicken house. There were fences.
They could not see to the gate or the highway through the falling
water, but there had been solid woodland where they turned off into
the lane.

"We'll wait," said Lockley distastefully, "to see if we are in a tight
spot in the morning. If we're well away--and I've no real idea where
we are--we'll go on. If not, we'll hide till dark and hope for stars
to steer by when we go."

Jill said confidently, "We'll make it. But where to?"

"To any place away from Boulder Lake Park, and where I'm a human being
instead of a crackpot civilian. To where I can explain some things to
people who'll listen, if it isn't too late."

"It's not," said Jill with as much assurance as before.

There was a pause. The rain poured down. Lightning flashed. Thunder
roared.

"I didn't know," said Jill tentatively, "that you believed the
invaders--the monsters--had people helping them."

"The overall picture isn't a human one," he told her. "But there's a
design that shows somebody knows us. For instance, nobody's been
killed. At least not publicly. That was arranged by somebody who
understood that if there was a massacre, we'd fight to the end of our
lives and teach our children to fight after us."

She thought it over.