There was the quick blink of sunlight on steel as Mike and Terry swung their weapons.
And as though stunned, the men in white stopped short, suddenly silent, awkwardly-poised statues.
Doug knew the spell would last for seconds at best. The half-naked boys stood grimly, feet wide apart, sword-hilts grasped in both hands.
Doug, with Dot's limp body in his arms, broke for the car.
"Come on!"
And Terry and Mike were at his heels. The men in white broke their frozen ranks then and swarmed over the small area of street that the two broadswords had commanded for the telling few seconds.
Doug bolted the vehicle into motion. And then they were free.
"What dopes," Mike was saying. "Were they scared! I bet they didn't figure we'd be ready to fight 'em! But who did we—?"
"Boys, see what you can do for your mother. It is your mother, she just looks different, like we do...."
"Mother—"