And the thing that had eaten their father could only watch as the four of them climbed in and drove away; the car only held four, with no room for a fifth. The creature started to protest, but Khalil started the engine and revved it, drowning him out.

And then they were off, away from the fire and out of Diamond Park.

5.

Dr. Henry Frauenthal marvelled at the variety of damage that this person calling himself Ed Smith had sustained. His legs and feet were badly burned, while his head and torso were bruised and abraded and liberally adorned with long, deep scratches.

Not all of them were fresh, either. A particularly interesting set of gouges in his side looked to be roughly a week old.

“I got caught in a burning kitchen,” Smith told the doctor, “And a lot of stuff fell on me, and this dog panicked and scratched me up.”

“Doesn’t look like any dog-bites I ever saw,” the doctor remarked. “Did you bring in the dog, so we can check for rabies?”

“Didn’t bite me,” Smith said, “Just clawed me when I tried to carry it out.” He was getting pretty good at impromptu lying, he thought. He’d had plenty of practice of late, luring the nightmare people out of their den.

Dr. Frauenthal left it at that. He checked over the bandages he had just finished applying, then nodded approval.

“That should do it,” he said. “Now, you just lie here and rest.”

He turned to the others, who stood watching. Khalil had insisted that they be admitted, rather than waiting outside, and Frauenthal hadn’t wanted to waste time arguing when his patient was losing so much blood.

“I think he’ll be fine,” he said.

The girls smiled, but Khalil did not. “Doctor,” he said, “Please, you must look at these girls, too, and I think pump out their stomachs – one of them, anyway.”

The two girls both turned to stare at Khalil.

“What are you talking about?” the older one demanded.

“I am talking,” Khalil said, “about that thing that is not your father. It kissed one of you, there at the fire, and I think it did more than kiss.”

The older girl simply looked more confused, while the younger one’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.

“How did you… I mean, what are you talking about?” she demanded.

“Miss Newell,” Khalil said, “I saw you at the meeting at Mrs. McGowan’s house, so I know you have heard this and not believed it, but it is the truth. That thing is not your father. It has killed him and taken his place. And now, it has begun to do the same to you, I think. When it kissed you, did it not feel peculiar?”

“Well, yeah,” the younger one admitted, looking uneasily at her sister.

“Maddie,” the elder said, “What are you talking about?”

“Well, it did, Alice,” Maddie said, “It felt really weird. Daddy never kissed me like that before. I mean, on the mouth, and then he opened his mouth, and at first I thought, you know, he was giving me the tongue, and that was pretty weird, I mean Daddy, doing that? But then it wasn’t his tongue at all, it felt like something else, and it sort of crawled into my mouth and I could tell it wasn’t Daddy at all, it was something he’d had in his mouth, and it tried to slide down my throat and I almost choked on it, and swallowed it without meaning to.”

Alice was staring at her.

“Really?” she asked.

Maddie nodded.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Alice demanded.

“Well, I thought maybe I’d just imagined it all, and besides, we were so busy, helping Mr. Smith and everything, I hadn’t had a chance.” She looked as if she might cry. “And besides, it was Daddy who did it.”

The doctor had listened to all this, and looked utterly baffled. Smith was too weak to argue; he just lay back and watched. It was Khalil who said, “We should pump her stomach, yes?”

Alice started to protest, but stopped when she saw Maddie nodding.

Dr. Frauenthal agreed.

6.

There were two things in Maddie Newell’s digestive tract that had no business there.

One was a significant quantity of blood, apparently her own, and all still fresh. It was as if she had suddenly acquired a severe bleeding ulcer, sometime in the past hour or two.

The other was a black thing about five inches long and an inch or so in diameter, slick and moist, with four tiny sets of razor-sharp, hook-shaped claws, two at the narrower end – what Khalil thought of as the tail – and two about two inches back from the “head.”

It also had a mouth in the head end, a narrow opening perhaps an inch long and lined with tiny needle teeth.

It was quite obvious what was responsible for the blood; the thing’s claws and teeth were smeared with bright red.

It was also obvious that the thing was still alive.

The little group in the examining room stared at it in horror as it squirmed vigorously in the plastic bottle that Dr. Frauenthal had sealed it in.

“That was inside me?” Maddie asked.

Dr. Frauenthal nodded.

“It’s out now,” he said, in a vain attempt to sound comforting.

Maddie sat down, feeling faint.

“Kill it,” Alice said through clenched teeth.

Dr. Frauenthal shook his head. “It should already be dead,” he said. “I don’t know how to kill it.”

“Cut it up!” Alice said.

Frauenthal grimaced. “Ever see a flatworm cut in half?” he asked.

“Well, do something,” Alice insisted.

“What I’m going to do,” Frauenthal said, “is try and find out what it is.”

Alice and Maddie both turned to look at Khalil; Dr. Frauenthal followed their gaze.

“Sir,” he said, “I take it these two think you know something about that thing in the bottle. And as it was your suggestion that it was in there, in her stomach, I assume they’re right.”

Reluctantly, Khalil nodded. He looked at Smith, but Smith was obviously in no shape to comment.

He sighed, and started explaining.

The thing in the bottle squirmed helplessly as Khalil talked.

7.

Annie McGowan sat in front of the TV, her feet tucked up on the couch beside her, knitting nervously and paying no attention to NBC’s special on gangs, cops, and drugs.

Somehow, awful as gangs and drugs were, they didn’t have the same immediacy they had had two weeks before.

She had been alone in the house for hours, ever since Smith and Khalil had left to observe the results of their handiwork, and she had been getting more and more nervous.

For over a week, she had been expecting her phony sister-in-law to drop by, and it hadn’t. She had been ready for it, and it hadn’t come. She had lived with that. Somehow, though, the full moon, and her incomplete knowledge of what was happening seven blocks away, seemed to make it worse. She almost expected to see faces at the windows, or hear strange howling outside, like a scene from one of those awful late-night horror movies on TV that she never meant to watch but sometimes did anyway.

The sirens that had sounded for so long, over on Barrett Road, had all died away now; she wasn’t sure what that meant. Was it just that all the emergency vehicles had reached the apartment complex, or had something gone wrong and kept more from coming?

She pulled too hard at the yarn, trying to loosen a tangle, and instead it knotted hard. She hissed in annoyance.

She was trying to pick the knot apart when the doorbell rang.

She looked up, startled.

Someone knocked, hard.

She dropped the knitting on the endtable, got slowly to her feet, and turned off the TV. Neither Smith nor Khalil would knock like that; Maggie wouldn’t knock at all. That dreadful imitation Kate ought to know better than to knock that way.

Lieutenant Buckley, perhaps?