Operation Terror | Page 9

they were released they'd flee.
The car went over a bridge and rounded a curve. Here a deep cut had
been made and the road ran through it. It came out upon undulating

ground where many curves were necessary.
Another car came, plunging after the others. In the next ten miles there
were, perhaps a dozen more. They'd been hard to start, perhaps, and so
left later than the rest. Jill wasn't in any of them. There was one car
traveling slowly, making thumping noises. Its driver made the best time
he could, following the others.
Sober common sense pointed out that Vale's account was fully verified.
There'd been a landing of non-human creatures in a ship from outer
space. The killing or capture of the first three men to investigate a
gigantic explosion was natural enough--the alien occupants of a space
ship would want to study the inhabitants of the world they'd landed on.
The mere paralysis and release of two others could be explained on the
theory that the creatures who'd come to earth were satisfied with three
specimens of the local intelligent race to study. They had Vale, too.
They weren't trying to conceal their arrival, though it would have been
impossible anyhow. But it was plausible enough that they'd take
measures to become informed about the world they'd landed on, and
when they considered that they knew enough, they'd take the action
they felt was desirable.
All of which was perfectly rational, but there was another possibility.
The other possible explanation was--considering everything--more
probable. And it seemed to offer even more appalling prospects.
He drove on. Jill Holmes. He'd seen her four times; she was engaged to
Vale. It seemed extremely likely that she hadn't left the camp with the
workmen. If Lockley hadn't been obsessed with her, he'd have tried to
make sure she was left behind before he tried to find her. If she was
still at the camp, she was in a dangerous situation.
There'd been no other car from the camp for a long way now. But there
came a sharp curve ahead. Lockley drove into it. There was a roar, and
a car came from the opposite direction, veering away from the road's
edge. It sideswiped the little car Lockley drove. The smaller car bucked
violently and spun crazily around. It went crashing into a clump of
saplings and came to a stop with a smashed windshield and crumpled

fenders, but the motor was still running. Lockley had braked by
instinct.
The other car raced away without pausing.
Lockley sat still for a moment, stunned by the suddenness of the
mishap. Then he raged. He got out of the car. Because of its small size,
he thought he might be able to get it back on the road with saplings for
levers. But the job would take hours, and he was irrationally convinced
that Jill had been left behind in the construction camp.
He was perhaps five miles from Boulder Lake itself and about the same
distance from the camp. It would take less time to go to the camp on
foot than to try to get the car on the road. Time was of the essence, and
whoever or whatever the occupants of the landed ship might be, they'd
know what a road was for. They'd sight an intruder in a car on a road
long before they'd detect a man on foot who was not on a highway and
was taking some pains to pass unseen.
He started out, unarmed and on foot. He was headed for the near
neighborhood of the thing Vale had described as coming from the sky.
He was driven by fear for Jill. It seemed to him that his best pace was
only a crawl and he desperately needed all the speed he could muster.
He headed directly across country for the camp. All the world seemed
unaware that anything out of the ordinary was in progress. Birds sang
and insects chirruped and breezes blew and foliage waved languidly.
Now and again a rabbit popped out of sight of the moving figure of the
man. But there were no sounds, or sights or indications of anything
untoward where Lockley moved. He reflected that he was on his way to
search for a girl he barely knew, and whom he couldn't be sure needed
his help anyway.
Outside in the world, there were places where things were not so
tranquil. By this time there were already troops in motion in long trains
of personnel-carrying trucks. There were mobile guided missile
detachments moving at top speed across state lines and along the
express highway systems. Every military plane in the coastal area was

aloft, kept fueled by tanker planes to be ready for any sort of offensive
or defensive