"No. I am not an Earthling. I am a superhuman alien from outer space. My mission on Earth is to destroy you."
Collins pulled away gently. When you lived in a town all your life and knew its people, it wasn't unusual to see some old person snap under the weight of years.
"You have to destroy the rocketship station, huh, Doc, before it sends up spaceships?"
"No. I want to kill you. That is my mission."
"Why?"
"Because," Candle said, "I am a basically evil entity."
The undertaker turned away and went skittering down Main Street, his lopsided gait limping, sliding, hopping, skipping, at a refined leisurely pace. He was a collection of dancing, straight black lines.
Collins stared after the old man, shook his head and forgot about him.
He moved into the hardware store. The bell tinkled behind him. The store was cramped with shadows and the smell of wood and iron. It was lined off as precisely as a checkerboard, with counters, drawers, compartments.