The meal was beef stew, which Jake prepared in a big pot on an old wood-burning range. They all ate around the kitchen table.

"There are lots of wild cattle up here," Cal explained. "This used to be good range country, you know. The remnants of the old beef herds are still in existence, the ones that have learned how to dodge or whip the lions, that is."

Zen was busy watching Nedra and Ed. The little bantam was following every move she made and was keeping as close to her as possible. He insisted on sitting next to her at the table and he kept trying to touch her at every opportunity.

Zen kept silent. Inwardly, he was greatly perturbed. Night was already throwing shadows over the mountains. What would happen after darkness fell? Trying to keep such thoughts out of his mind, he found himself wondering if it would be possible for him to break the bantam's neck with his bare hands. He decided he could do this, and that he would like to do it, but that he would also like to stay alive afterward.

"Girls who go walking in the mountains have to take what happens to them," he said.

Nedra ignored him. Ed glowered at him. Cal chuckled but continued eating without speaking. Jake ate as if he did not know what he was doing or where he was. Occasionally he looked toward the northwest and shook his fist in that direction. Zen knew that deep in his sick mind Jake was dreaming of what he would do to the Asians. Remembering Marcia, Zen did not blame him.

Ed tried to urge the nurse toward the dilapidated sofa in the room but she eluded him and sat on an empty powder can, to the obvious disgust of the bantam. Two people could not sit on the same powder can. Jake rattled dishes in the kitchen, and fought imaginary Asians. Cal found a seat in the corner, a position from which he could watch everyone in the room. Off in the night an owl hooted.

Ed jumped at the sound, grabbed Nedra's hand, and tried to drag her toward a ladder that led to some kind of an attic. Cal rose to his feet and moved toward the door.

"Stop it!" Nedra said, to Ed.

"But, honey, you've got to get out of here," Ed urged. The bantam was at the edge of panic.

"Why?"

"Because that owl hoot was a signal. The guys who are coming will take you away from me," Ed explained.

"Fine," Nedra said, her face brightening. "There is justice in the world after all. The good Lord does look after the poor working girl." Her voice indicated that she had begun to doubt this.

"But you don't know who these guys are," Ed protested.

"I don't care who they are. Satan himself would be welcome to me right now." The words were addressed to Ed but she was looking at Kurt Zen as she spoke. Zen did not attempt to answer her implied accusation.

"Damn it, I ain't going to let them take you away from me!" Ed shouted. Again he reached for the nurse's hand, to drag her toward the ladder. She slugged him in the mouth.

In a fury, his fists clenched, the bantam started toward her. She dodged behind Zen.

"Lay off her, Ed," Cal ordered.

"But she belongs to me!" Ed shouted. "You know I saw her first. You said so yourself!" The little man was beside himself with frustration and fury.

"If the lieutenant decides he wants her, you'll probably be the first one dead," the ragged man commented. Then he shrugged. "However, it's your funeral, not mine. Only you probably won't get a funeral."

Again the owl hoot sounded, just outside the house this time. Cal opened the door. A lieutenant and four soldiers entered. Zen took one look at the dirty uniforms and the slant eyes in dirty yellow faces and knew that these were Cuso's men. Coming into the room, the lieutenant took command.

"Who is this?" he demanded, nodding curtly toward Zen. He had not as yet noticed Nedra, who was still behind Kurt.

"A colonel who has seen the light of reason and has come over to our side," the ragged man promptly answered.

"Good. Cuso will be very glad to talk to him." The grin on the lieutenant's face left no doubt as to the meaning that lay back of his words. Cuso's methods of extracting information from any person careless enough to fall into his hands were well known.

"It will be a privilege to talk to the great leader of the Asian forces," Zen said. He felt sweat begin to appear under both arms. As soon as the lieutenant had appeared, he had known that Cal was a spy supplying information to Cuso.

"I'm sure Cuso will find it so," the lieutenant said. The grin vanished from his face as he caught a glimpse of Nedra behind the colonel. The rifle in his hands came up. "Who is that?" he demanded.

"A nurse who has also joined us," Cal hastily explained.

"What's she doing behind him?"

"Ed was urging her to go upstairs with him and she hid behind this man," Cal explained. A tic had appeared in the right cheek of the ragged man.

"Oh," the lieutenant said. His grin reappeared. "Come out, plizz."

As Nedra stepped to Zen's side, the lieutenant's grin widened. He sucked in his breath. "Yess. Oh but yess. Cuso will want to talk to her. Of that I am very sure."

Ed, his face as black as tar, started to protest. He took another look at the rifle in the Asian's hand and quickly changed his mind. The chattering of his teeth was audible all over the room.

"Why do you make that noise?" the lieutenant said, looking at him.

"It—it's cold in here," Ed stuttered.

As the bantam spoke, Zen noticed that the temperature in the big room seemed to have dropped far more than seemed reasonable. Even the opening of the door, and the admission of the cool night air, was not enough to account for the sudden chill in the room.

This cold was different from anything Zen had ever experienced before. It seemed to start at the center of the bones and work its way outward, reaching the skin surface last of all, where it produced a prickling sensation.

"I wish to eat," the lieutenant said.

"Of course," Cal instantly agreed. "Jake! Food for the gentleman."

Jake, his eyes murky, was standing in the door leading to the kitchen. The expression on his face indicated that he was about to launch himself at the Asians.

"Get into that kitchen!" Cal shouted.

"Oh, all right," Jake answered, moving out of sight. The banging of the pots and pans that followed his departure seemed to have a sullen sound.

"That one is not right in the head," the Asian officer said.

"He's just dumb," Cal said, defensively.

The lieutenant pursed his lips. "I forgot to mention that I left some of my men outside."

"Bring them in," Cal said promptly. "They're probably hungry, too. And cold."

"I think I shall leave them where they are," the lieutenant said, decisively. "I left them on guard. They have set up a mounted machine gun at the edge of the street."

"I see," Cal said.

"The gun covers this house," the officer continued.

"Oh," Cal said. A sudden shiver passed through his body. He knew perfectly well what the lieutenant had just told him.

It seemed to Kurt Zen that the temperature of the room had dropped another ten degrees. He was shivering, too, from the effect of that strange cold that seemed to start at the marrow of the bones and spread itself outward.

Of all those in the room, Nedra was the only one who did not seem to be suffering from the effect of the chill. Her eyes were bright and her face had a warm glow. Zen watched her out of the corners of his eyes. Didn't she know that she had escaped from Ed only to fall into the tender mercies of Cuso's men?

"What has happened to you?" he whispered to her.

Turned toward him, her eyes had a glow that seemed to come from some light that was suddenly burning inside them. The glow went from purple to violet, then to ultra-violet. After that, Zen could no longer see the glow, but he suspected it had gone into higher ranges still. What was more surprising was the fact that she was no longer frightened. Confidence had suddenly come to her, seemingly out of nowhere.

"What do you think has happened to me?" Her voice had changed too. All tension had gone from it. The ragged edges of conflict had disappeared. She seemed to be mistress of the situation, and to know it.

Jake came from the kitchen. "I pick up vibrations," he announced, his voice shrill.

"Get into the kitchen," Cal ordered, as the lieutenant raised his gun.

"But I'm only trying to tell you something."

"I'm telling you something, get back into that kitchen!" Cal ordered.

Jake's gaze went murkily around the room but it was obvious that he was giving more attention to some internal sight or sound than to the people present.

"Git," Cal shouted.

Jake backed from the doorway.

The lieutenant lowered the muzzle of the gun. He barked an order to the men with him, who arranged themselves with their backs to the wall. The officer moved toward the fire, where he settled himself in a chair.

"You," he said. "Take off my boots!"

He was speaking to Zen. Kurt measured the distance to the lieutenant's jaw. Out of the corners of his eyes, he noted the positions of the Asian soldiers.

"Odds are too great," he thought. "Stay alive now. Maybe your turn will come."

As he started to kneel, he bumped into Nedra, who was already on the floor unbuckling the officer's boots.

"If you would rather do it, I would rather have you do it," the lieutenant said, smirking.

"It is a privilege, sir," the girl said. She pulled off the heavy boot and began to peel off the thick sock.

The probability that she had saved Kurt Zen's life was very great. He felt a surge of anger at his own helplessness.

The feeling of cold at the marrow of his bones was appearing again. It was stronger now. He noticed that Cal's hands were trembling. The teeth of one of the soldiers standing against the wall were chattering audibly. A second soldier looked as if he were about to go to sleep.

Zen discovered as he yawned that he was getting sleepy too. Along with the cold creeping outward from his bones was a sensation of mental fogginess that was very close to sleep. The lieutenant, sitting directly in front of him, was nodding.

Everybody was getting sleepy! Why? Had some subtle, odorless gas been introduced into the room? What gas? Who had introduced it?

Crash!

The rifle in the hands of the nodding soldier slid out of his grasp and struck the floor, exploding as it hit. The slug ripped a hole through the wall, passing within a foot of the lieutenant's head.

The Asian officer was instantly on his feet. He spun to face the sound.

The soldier who had dropped the rifle slid forward on the floor and lay there, snoring.

As he saw what had happened, the face of the lieutenant settled into a grim mask. He pressed the trigger of the automatic weapon he carried. The gun burped violently. The sleeping soldier jerked as the heavy slugs crashed into his body. A little trickle of blood ran from his nose and collected in a small pool on the floor. The man died where he lay.

"Yen thotem ke vos!" the lieutenant snarled. Two of the soldiers left their position against the wall and lifted the body of their dead comrade. The third remained motionless against the wall while they carried the dead man out.

"If you go to sleep on me!" the lieutenant said, to the third soldier. His meaning was clear. The soldier shook his head. He understood what his officer meant. Terror was in him. But something else was in him too.

Zen watched the soldier fight this something else. Slowly, he let the butt of his rifle slide to the floor. He had enough intelligence and enough strength left not to drop the weapon. He set it against the wall. Then he sat down beside it.

He was making every possible effort to resist sleep, but in spite of everything he could do, he was losing this fight. Slowly, a fraction of an inch at a time, his head slid forward. Finally it dropped on his arms that were folded across his knees. He began snoring.

The face of the lieutenant was that of a frightened tiger from the depths of the Assam jungles. The muzzle of the gun swung to cover the sleeping soldier. A split second passed during which this Asian was on the verge of joining his ancestors.

Realizing finally that this man could not be held accountable for his inability to stay awake, the lieutenant held his fire. He jerked up his head to stare around the room. His face was that of a tiger who suspects it has been caught in a trap but is not yet certain of the nature of the device it has been snared in. His eyes came to focus on Cal.

"I—I swear—" The ragged man's voice was a thick mutter that did not convey much meaning. Cal was sleepy too!

"What have you done here?"

"I—nothing. I have done nothing—and I know nothing—I am as surprised as you."

"You're a liar!"

"No. Telling truth—" Cal's head had sagged downward toward his chest and his voice was getting thicker and more groggy. With an effort of will, he snapped his head up. "I—don't know. Something.... Yes! Never heard of anything like it before.... Hell, lieutenant, it's getting me too!"

Cal's head sagged forward on his chest. "So sleepy ... so tired ... gotta take a nap...." His knees sagging, Cal lay down on the floor. He cuddled his head on one arm.

The lieutenant spoke, but the grunt that came from his lips was not a growl. Soon, he, too, was fast asleep.

Kurt and Nedra were the only two people who were able to remain awake. The nurse was making desperate efforts to resist this strange sleepiness. Swaying on her feet, she turned toward Zen. He caught her in his arms.

"What's happening?" She sounded like a tired little girl.

"I don't know," Zen answered.

"Why is everybody going to sleep? Is it bedtime?"

"It must be."

"Are you sleepy, too?" Her voice was a tired whisper.

"I never was so sleepy before in my life," Kurt answered.

"Then why don't we—just take a little nap?" Nedra murmured. The way she spoke, this was the most reasonable suggestion that had ever been offered. Sagging into his arms, she would have fallen if he had not caught her. Gently, he eased her to the floor. Her chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm.

If there was one thing Kurt wanted to do it was to lie down on the floor and go to sleep, too. Every organ in his body, every cell, every molecule seemed to cry out that sleep was needed. He felt his knees begin to sag, his head to droop. It seemed to him that all strength was going out of his body, that his muscles could no longer hold him erect.

"Stay awake!" someone snarled at him. He was startled to realize it was his own voice that had spoken the words. He was even more startled by the fury in the tones.

His knees continued to sag. In spite of everything he could do to prevent it, his body continued on its way to the floor. The muscles in his long legs seemed to have turned into rubber. He went down to his knees but caught himself on his hands.

The impulse to continue the rest of the way to the floor was like a tidal wave. Every thought in his mind was on the desirability of sleep. How wonderful it would be to take a nap, to rest, to dream, to wake no more.

With a strength that was born of desperation, he fought this impulse. A battle began inside his body, a conflict that seemed to involve every brain cell and every nerve ending, and finally every muscle group. Pain came up as muscle fought muscle, as nerve cell fought nerve cell, as one part of the brain fought another part. He tried to force his body to rise to its feet again.

All he could do was grunt.

"Stand up!" he snarled at himself.

His body quivered and twisted but did not move. He repeated the command to himself. The effect was to increase the conflict. And the pain. He had never known such agony. It rolled through him like a series of tidal waves.

Click!

What happened took place so suddenly that it seemed to occur outside of time.

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