He walked faster, signaled a cab. He sat there stiffly and numb with tension as the cab took him with casual speed to the park.
He walked slowly along past the high dense brush of the park next to the wall, his shoes squeeshing on the wet turf. Beyond the wall he could see a tall bulky building with little yellow window eyes that blinked in the rain. Absently, he remembered it was the big Community Hospital.
"Zeke," he called as he walked past the high dense brush. "Zeke."
He went the length of the park's West end, started back, continuing to call Zeke's name. The strange alien whisper sent a chill down his arms.
"Mr. Johnson—"
The brush shivered. Zeke had heard the message all right. "Mr. Johnson. I am ill. I am cold and I am tired. I do not have any idea what to do."
Johnson said. "Come out here, Zeke. You have to turn yourself in to the proper authorities here that maintain law and order. I've explained something about that. I promise you it will be all right. You've got to trust me, Zeke."
"People are afraid of me. They throw stones at me and run away when I approach them. I cannot understand—"
Johnson explained quickly that the guard Zeke had shoved was dead. "It has to be straightened out, that's all, Zeke. Then things will be all right."