building is
going to go smack in the middle of where your house used to be."

"My house _is_."

"For less time than you will be yourself, Earthling."

"Earthling yourself! What's wrong with you, Doc?"

"No. I am not an Earthling. I am a superhuman alien from outer space. My
mission on Earth is to destroy you."

* * * * *

Collins pulled away gently. When you lived in a town all your life and
knew its people, it wasn't unusual to see some old person snap under the
weight of years.

"You have to destroy the rocketship station, huh, Doc, before it sends
up spaceships?"

"No. I want to kill _you_. That is my mission."

"_Why?_"

"Because," Candle said, "I am a basically evil entity."

The undertaker turned away and went skittering down Main Street, his
lopsided gait limping, sliding, hopping, skipping, at a refined
leisurely pace. He was a collection of dancing, straight black lines.

Collins stared after the old man, shook his head and forgot about him.

He moved into the hardware store. The bell tinkled behind him. The store
was cramped with shadows and the smell of wood and iron. It was lined
off as precisely as a checkerboard, with counters, drawers,
compartments.

Ed Michaels sat behind the counter, smoking a pipe. He was a handsome
man, looking young in the uncertain light, even at fifty.

"Hi, Ed. You closed?"

"Guess not, Sam. What are you looking for?"

"A pound of tenpenny nails."

Michaels stood up.

Sarah Comstock waddled energetically out of the back. Her sweet, angelic
face lit up with a smile. "Sam Collins. Well, I guess _you'll_ want to
help us murder them."

"Murder?" Collins repeated. "Who?"

"Those Air Force men who want to come in here and cause all the
trouble."

"How are you going to murder them, Mrs. Comstock?"

"When they see our petition in Washington, D.C., they'll call those men
back pretty quick."

"Oh," Collins said.

Mrs. Comstock produced the scroll from her voluminous handbag. "You want
to sign, don't you? They're going to put part of the airport on your
place. They'll tear down your house."

"They can't tear it down. I won't sell."

"You know government men. They'll just _take_ it and give you some money
for it. Sign right there at the top of the new column, Sam."

Collins shook his head. "I don't believe in signing things. They can't
take what's mine."

"But Sam, dear, they _will_. They'll come in and push y