The car passed through a cool, wooded section and Louise leaned back and drank in the beauty of it.
"Hush-hush, top secret stuff," she said. "Grown men playing children's games."
"Pretty deadly games for children, darling."
In the late afternoon they by-passed the central part of Baltimore and headed north beyond the suburb of Towson toward Dell's truck farm.
His sign was visible for a half mile:
YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT
Eat the Best
EAT DELL'S VEGETABLES
"Dr. Hamon Dell, world's foremost biochemist—and truck farmer," Curt muttered as he swung the car off the highway.
Louise stepped out when the tires ceased crunching on the gravel lane. She scanned the fields and old woods beyond the ancient but preserved farmhouse. "It's so unearthly."
Curt followed. The song of birds, which had been so noticeable before, seemed strangely muted. The land itself was an alien, faintly greenish hue, a color repulsive to more than just the eyes.