They Came From Outer Space: 12 Classic Science Fiction Tales by Jim Wynorski

Author:Jim Wynorski [Wynorski, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780385185028
Google: bOdJAAAAMAAJ
Amazon: 0385185022
Goodreads: 1928670
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Jim Wilson, feeling success almost in his grasp, was balanced on tiptoe for a lunge. He teetered, almost lost his balance and fell back against the wall.

“Take it easy,” Frank said.

“I’ll take it easy,” Davis replied. “I’ll kill every goddam one of you—“ he pointed the gun at Jim Wilson,

“—starting with him.”

“Now wait a minute,” Frank said. “You’re unreasonable. What right have you got to do that? What about the law of survival? You’re standing there with a gun on us. You’re going to kill us. Isn’t it natural to try anything we can to save our own lives?”

A look of admiration brightened Davis’ eyes. “Say! I like you.

You’re all right. You’re logical. A man can talk to you. If there’s anything I like it’s talking to a logical man.”

“Thanks.”

“Too bad I’m going to have to kill you. We could sit down and have some nice long talks together.”

“Why do you want to kill us?” Minna asked. She had not spoken before.

In fact, she had spoken so seldom during the entire time they’d been together that her voice was a novelty to Frank. He was inclined to discount her tirade on the floor with Wilson’s head in her lap. She had been a different person then. Now she had lapsed back into her old shell.

Davis regarded thoughtfully. “Must you have a reason?”

“You should have a reason to kill people.”

Davis said, “All right, if it will make you any happier. I told you about killing my keeper when they tried to make me leave town. He got in the car, behind the wheel. I got into the back seat and split his skull with a tire iron.”

“What’s that got to do with us?”

“Just this. Tommy was a better person than any one of you or all of you put together. If he had to die, what right have you got to live?

Is that enough of a reason for you?”

“This is all too damn crazy,” Jim Wilson roared. He was on the point of leaping at Davis and his gun.

At that moment, from the north, came a sudden crescendo of the weird invader wailings. It was louder than it had previously been but did not seem nearer.

The group froze, all ears trained upon the sound. “They’re talking again,” ora whispered.

“Uh-huh,” Frank replied. “But it’s different this time. As if—“ “—as if they were getting ready for something,” Nora said. “Do you suppose they’re going to move south?”

Davis said, “I’m not going to kill you here. We’re going down stairs.”

The pivotal moment, hinged in Jim Wilson’s mind, that could have changed the situation had come and

gone. The fine edge of additional madness that would make a man hurl himself at a loaded gun was dulled.

Leroy Davis motioned peremptorily toward Minna.

“You first—then the other babe. You walk side by side down the hall with the men behind you. Straight down to the lobby.”

They complied without resistance. There was only Jim Wilson’s scowl, Frank Brooks’ clouded eyes, and the white, taut look of Nora.

Nora’s mind was not on the gun.

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