Harold stepped forward. “Back everybody,” he said in his best 59 calm voice. “Walk—do not run—to the nearest exit.”
The second monster was already vibrating across the cage and the smaller one was holding the door open for it. Dr. Mildume had tried to maneuver the control ropes to close the door again, but hadn’t been able to work them—and now he had left his post.
Harold pointed to the man with the rifle and said, “Fire!”
The rifleman fired.
Nothing—nothing at all happened. He fired several times more. The monsters didn’t even jerk when the bullets hit them.
“They’re—they’re impervious yet!” cried Mr. Untz.
After that it was every man for himself.
Moments later Harold found himself outside of the sound stage and on the studio street, bunched with the others and staring at the thick closed door. Nobody spoke. Everybody just thrummed silently with the knowledge that two alien monsters were in there, wreaking heaven knew what damage....
And then, as they stared, the thick door began to open again. “It isn’t locked!” breathed Mr. Untz. “Nobody remembered to lock it again!”
A tentacle peeked out of the crack of the door.