Herb thought first of the bomb site. The chill desert night would be fresh upon it. Overhead, the pale moon would ride toward the terrible Apocalypse of dawn—if Bud waited until then to make his phone call.
In a few hours (he thought) he could bring the spider ship down upon the desert. The long dark night beyond would give him time....
He visualized the scene as he remembered it from TV: the single sentry shack where an Army guard protected the alien handiwork.
"I'll talk to them when we land. I'll explain about Bud. They'll find him and keep him away from the telephone. They'll tell long distance operators not to place any calls until they can find him. All I need is a few hours to convince someone that Bud, that Bud...."
Norma was in his arms, shaking hysterically. "He ... he did that to Frank. Bud did that!"
"We've got to hurry," Herb said.
She shivered against him. Gently he disengaged himself.
"In an hour, now...." he said. His hand rested on the forward firing stud.
Rested and withdrew.
"What's wrong?" Norma asked.