She turned quickly. "There's something peculiar about them. Something really strange."
"What do you mean?"
"Last night when we were walking up the street. It must have been these invaders we heard. They must have been across the street. But they didn't act like invaders. They seemed—well, scared. I got the feeling they ran from us in panic. And they haven't been back."
Wilson said, "They may not have been there at all. Probably our imaginations."
"I don't think so," Frank cut in. "They were there and then they were gone. I'm sure of it."
"Those wailing noises. They were certainly signalling to each other. Do you suppose that's the only language they have?" Nora walked over and offered the silent Minna a cigarette. Minna refused with a shake of her head.
"I wish we knew what they looked like," Frank said. "But let's not sit here talking. Let's get going."
Jim Wilson was scowling. There was a marked sullenness in his manner. "Not Minna and me. I've changed my mind. I'm sticking here."
Frank blinked in surprise. "Are you crazy? We've run our luck out already. Did you see what happened to those planes?"
"The hell with the planes. We've got it good here. This I like. I like it a lot. We'll stay."