"So it must have known that it would be needed too."

"So it seems. But there were other occurrences back in that first year, a cluster of hideously deformed children born in November and early December. No one could explain it then, but now I can see that they all must have been conceived around the same time as Rasalom. His very presence in town must have mutated them in embryo." Bill shook his head. "Major tragedies for the families involved but merely warnings of what was to come."

Jack mulled that as Bill guided him through the town, past the high school where he'd been a football star, past the new house built on the site of his family home, burned to the ground a little over five years ago, killing both of his elderly parents.

"I truly believe Rasalom was responsible for that too," he said in a low voice, thick with emotion. He ground a fist into his palm. "So many others—friends, acquaintances, children! My folks, Jim, Lisl, Renny, Nick, and Danny—dear God, Danny! Damn, I've got scores to settle!"

Jack put a hand on Bill's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"We'll get the bastard. We'll make him pay."

Sure we will.

They killed time driving around Monroe. The town—village—seemed all but deserted. No bodies lay about. No bodies anywhere. Probably because unlike the bugs, which merely sucked the juices from their victims, the newer, bigger hole-things devoured their kills. Occasionally Jack spotted fearful faces peering at them from darkened rooms through shattered windows. As they cruised the main drag through the remnants of the downtown harbor front area, a gang of lupine scavengers began to approach the car.

Bill lifted one of the Spas-12s and worked the pump.

"I almost hope they try something," he said through thin, tight lips. "I'm feeling real mean at the moment."

At the sight of the shotgun they immediately lost interest and trotted away.

Jack stared at him. "Even you."

"What?"

"It's getting to you. Even you're starting to feel the effects of this craziness, aren't you?"

"And you're not?"

"Nah. I've made my living waiting for guys like that to start something. You're just beginning to browse in the neighborhood where I've spent my adult life."

The Movie Channel:

Joe Bob Briggs' Drive-In Movie—A Special All-Day Edition.

And Soon The Darkness (1970) Levitt/Rickman

When Time Ran Out (1980) Warner Brothers

Nothing But The Night (1972) Cinema Systems

Doomed To Die (1940) Monogram

Night Must Fall (1937) MGM

The Dark (1979) Film Ventures

Dark Star (1972) Bryanston

Dead Of Night (1945) Universal

Fade To Black (1980) Compass International

Don't Be Afraid Of The Dark (1973) TV

Night World (1932) Universal

By three-thirty they were back at Haskins' place. The fire was still burning in the forge in the back, but not as brightly as before. The air, however, was filled with the clang of metal upon metal.

"You're early," Haskins said at the door, still not inviting them in.

"We know," Bill said, "but it'll be dark soon and we want to get moving as soon as we can."

"Can't say as I blame you. Just as well you did show up. They're almost done. Wait in the car and I'll bring it out to you."

Jack and Bill returned to the old Mercedes. Bill sat inside, fiddling with the radio, trying to find a broadcast of any sort, while Jack paced in front, his gut twisting steadily tighter as the gray sky faded toward black.

He wished again that he hadn't sent Gia and Vicky off with Abe. He needed to see them again, hold them in his arms—one last time before the end.

"Listen," Bill said, sticking his head out the window. "The clanging's stopped."

"Doesn't matter," Jack said. "It's too late. We're not going to make it back. Even if we had a goddam plane we couldn't make it back in one piece."

The storm door slammed then, and there came old George Haskins lugging two blanket-wrapped objects in his arms like sick children.

"There you go," he said, dumping them into Jack's waiting hands.

One bundle was square and bulky, the other long and slim. And they were heavy. Bill took the smaller one and together they placed them on the back seat, then Jack was diving for the driver seat.

"It's been great talking to you, George, but we've got to run."

"Good luck, boys," Haskins said, heading back to his front door. "I don't know what this all means, but I sure hope it works out."

The rear wheels kicked gravel as Jack accelerated down the road. He glanced at the rearview mirror and saw Haskins standing on the stoop, watching them go. He couldn't be sure in the dim light but he thought he saw a group of knee-high figures clustered around his legs. Then Haskins waved—they all waved.

Blinking his eyes to clear them, Jack concentrated on the road.

Somewhere beyond the mists that masked the sky, the sun was setting for the last time.

"We're not going to make it," Jack said. "No way we can get back alive."

"We've got to give it our best shot," Bill said. "We don't have any other options that I can see."

"Oh, we'll give it one hell of a shot, Billy boy. One hell of a shot."

But we're not going to make it.

WNEW-FM

JO: This is it, Folks. It's 3:01 in the afternoon. Supposedly the last sunset. If Sapir's curve is right, the last time we'll ever see the sun.

FREDDY: Yeah. Nobody's offered us any hope, so we can't pass any on to you. We wish we could, but—

JO: And don't ask us why we're here because we don't know ourselves. Maybe 'cause it's the only thing we know how to do.

FREDDY: Whatever, we'll keep on doing it as long as the generators hold out, so keep us on as long as you've got batteries to spare. If we hear anything we'll let you know. And if you hear anything, call us on the CB and we'll pass it on.

JO: Anyway you look at it, it's gonna be a long night.

Part III

NIGHT

Aaaahh! NIGHT. Endless night. Everlasting darkness.

Rasalom turns within his fluid-filled chrysalis and revels in the fresh waves of panic seeping through from the nightworld above. Darkness reigns supreme. His dominion is established beyond all doubt. A fait accompli.

Except for one flaw, one minuscule spot of hope—Glaeken's building. But that is a calculated flaw. It, too, will fade once its residents realize that all their puny efforts to reassemble the weapon are for nought. It is too late—too late for anything. The juices from those crushed hopes will be SWEET.

All Rasalom need do now is await the completion of the Change at the undawn tomorrow, then break free from this shell to officially lay claim to this world. His world.

And he is nearly there. He feels the final strands of the metamorphosis drawing tight around and through him. And when it is done, he will rise to the surface and allow Glaeken to gaze on the new Rasalom, to shrink in awe and fear from his magnificence before the life is slowly crushed from his body.