"I don't get you."
At that moment the bathroom door opened and Nora came out. Jim Wilson forgot about the question he'd asked. He let forth a loud whistle of appreciation. Then he turned his eyes on Frank and his thought was crystal clear. He was envying Frank the night just passed.
A sudden irritation welled up in Frank Brooks, a distinct feeling of disgust. "Let's start worrying about important things—our lives. Or don't you consider your life very important?"
Jim Wilson seemed puzzled. "What the hell's got into you? Didn't you sleep good?"
"I went down the block this morning and found some teletype machines. I've just been reading the reports."
"What about that guy that tried to get into your room last night?"
"I didn't see him. I didn't see anybody. But I know why the city's been cleaned out." Frank went back to the window and picked up the sheaf on clips he had gone through. Jim Wilson sat down on the edge of the bed, frowning. Nora followed Frank and perched on the edge of the chair he dropped into.
"The city going to blow up?" Wilson asked.
"No. We've been invaded by some form of alien life."
"Is that what the papers said?"