"There's something wrong with them."
This was true. Two of the strange beings had fallen to the sidewalk. The third came doggedly on, dragging one foot after the other until he went to his hands and knees. He remained motionless for a long time, his head hanging limply. Then he too, sank to the cement and lay still.
The wailings from the north now took on a tone of intense agony—great desperation. After that came a yawning silence.
"They defeated themselves," the military man said. "Or rather, natural forces defeated them. We certainly had little to do with it."
Nora, Frank, and Jim Wilson stood at the curb beside a motorcycle. The man on the cycle supported it with a leg propped against the curb as he talked.
"We saw three of them die up the street," Frank said.
"Our scouting party saw the same thing happen. That's why we moved in. It's about over now. We'll know a lot more about them and where they came from in twenty-four hours."
They had nothing further to say. The military man regarded them thoughtfully. "I don't know about you three. If you ignored the evacuation through no fault of your own and can prove it—"
"There were four of us," Jim Wilson said. "Then we met another man. He's inside on the floor. I killed him."