"They don't need you down at HQ?" Jensen asked. She was looking out the front window.

Baskel shook his head. "No. How many guys do they need staring at the radio? Captain's going to handle all the moving-guys-around stuff, and Hawley and Jabowski are there, and about twenty other people. They've got it covered."

Lawless finished his water and sat in the recliner.

"It's time," Baskel heard Jensen say, to Lawless he presumed. He hoped she wasn't talking to him because he had no idea what it was time for, and just what kind of messed up thing was happening here, anyway? His skin crawled with goose bumps.

Jensen got a chair from the kitchen and moved it to the side of the recliner, by Lawless's head. She sat, took his right hand in hers and began running her fingers through his hair, stroking.

"What are you guys doing?" Baskel finally asked.

"Getting ready," he heard Jensen say.

Then he heard Lawless say, "I'm going out to the monster, to see where it's at, what it's up to."

Baskel frowned. "I thought you couldn't do that."

"I'm pretty sure I can now."

Then Baskel got it, the thing going on that was weird.

He jumped up and said, "What the hell is happening here?"

("I told you, we're getting ready to go out to the monster.") he heard Lawless say. Or did he?

"Wait a minute! Wait a minute!" Baskel yelled, pointing at Lawless. "You didn't open your mouth when you said that."

Baskel slapped his forehead. "You're ventriloquists? Both of you? Damn!" He smiled and rubbed his chin. "The fun never ends here, does it? This morning I could have sworn Lawless was reading my mind."

("I was.") Baskel grinned even wider. "Damn, you're good. I can't see your throat move at all."

He watched Jensen stroke Lawless's hair for a minute, then said, starting to feel uncomfortable again, "I get it, you got the chair so you wouldn't have to lay on the floor when you got one of your visions. You could have just laid on the couch or the bed, you know. You didn't have to go to the trouble and expense of buying a piece of furniture just for this."

He felt like he was making small talk.

After another minute, he said, "So what gives? You going to tell me why you're doing it this way or are you going to make guess all night?"

("It's a ritual, Detective. It has a purpose.") Jensen's voice told him.

"Okay. You going to do that all night?"

("As long as it takes. Whatever he needs.") "No, I meant throw your voice like that. You going to do that all night? Doesn't it strain your throat?"

("I'm not throwing my voice, Detective. We don't need our mouths to communicate.") "What?"

("Put your hands over your ears.") It was Lawless's voice he heard this time, inside his head. ("Go ahead. Push in hard so you can't hear.") Baskel felt stupid, but did it anyway.

("You can still hear me, can't you?") Baskel's eyes got big. He jammed an index finger into each ear, waited until he was sure he couldn't hear anything, and said, "Say something again."

("You hear my voice because I'm bypassing your sensory organs, projecting my thoughts directly into the auditory center of your brain.") Baskel got up and turned on the television and then stuck his fingers in his ears again. "Say something again!"

("We found communicating this way conserved energy and helped to unite our kind. Imagine what your planet would be like without language barriers.") Baskel dropped his hands and thought, My planet? He slumped on the couch, sure he losing his mind.

("You're not crazy. It's just new, that's all.") Jensen's voice said.

Baskel leaned against the couch and closed his eyes. So you can read minds! he thought, testing them.

("Yours, yes. We can shield our thoughts from each other when we want to, but I'm afraid your mind is an open book to us.") Jensen said.

Baskel started to say something when Lawless's voice shouted in his head, ("She's on the move! She's coming into town!") He sat up and grabbed his radio, pressed a button and said, "Captain, you there?"

The radio crackled and he heard, "I hear you, Detective. What is it?"

He remembered he was supposed to be cautious with his language. "We, uh ... Detective Lawless has something, uh ... coming in, sir."

"Does he have a location?"

"No, sir. He just started."

"Let me know as soon as he gets a location."

"Right," Baskel said, setting the radio down. He stood and took his jacket and tie off, sat again and looked at Jensen and Lawless: they were in a world of their own.

("Remember to control it. You must not let the creature know you're there or it will block you again.") ("I'm stronger now. Perhaps I can penetrate its block.") ("You're not that strong yet. You must still exercise control.") ("When will I be strong enough?") ("Soon. What do you see?") ("Nothing. Only blackness. If I went in deeper I could see its thoughts, what it's up to.") ("No, you mustn't do that yet. We can only use its eyes until your power is full.") ("But humans will be killed and it will be our fault.") ("Better a few lose their lives than their species lose control of their planet and be hunted to extinction. You know the Evil Species wants only one thing.") ("Yes. It wants to devour all living creatures on this planet, even if it means its own kind will eventually starve.") ("And it is the fault of our kind that the Evil Species is here.") She stroked his hair and squeezed his hand.

("What of the other planets we led the Evil Species to?") ("Others like us have been assigned to those planets. We can only save this one.") A moment passed before he thought, ("What of our kind, on our planet? Are they all gone now?") To herself she thought, Yes, they are all gone, but to him, ("We will never know. The doorway was destroyed after we passed through.") ("What of the machine they used to send this one here? Will it be destroyed as well?") ("No. But this one cannot return if it is killed and the machine cannot be used again if this one does not return.") She knew that he knew all of this already, but he seemed to draw some comfort from hearing the answers again. And she would do whatever she needed to do to make him stronger.

("Can you go out to its next prey?") ("Yes. I'm sure I can do that.") They communicated only to each other and would communicate to Detective Baskel only when they had information they thought he could use to save a life or two, but nothing he or the other humans did would have any bearing on the outcome of this battle.

Jim Waterman was used to being ignored.

"Alright then," he hollered across the street, "you old fool, don't listen to me. Smoke yourself into a grave for all I care. You know every one of those things you suck into your lungs takes minutes off your life! Minutes! Did you hear that, Reese?"

Fred didn't answer, but Jim was sure the old man must have heard him. Hell, half the town must of heard him.

"Try to do someone a favor," he grumbled under his breath as he turned to face the canal. He would have to make nice with the old man soon; he was getting hungry and his food was locked up in the truck, and Fred had the keys. He scowled at the water. He hadn't thought he would be here this late, thought they would have come to their senses by now, seen the idiocy of guarding a canal and gone home.

He groused to himself and thought about the beer he might be sipping right now, and the John Wayne western he might find on the satellite. There were chicken wings in the freezer he could pop in the toaster oven; in thirty minutes, he could have something going.

His portable light flickered. He looked at it and cursed.

"Reese probably knew this one was broken and gave it to me on purpose," he grumbled out loud, in case Fred was listening. He went to check the light, thinking all it needed was a swift kick or two.

("I see a canal and a portable light. The light flickered and I'm walking over to the battery, kicking it.") Baskel heard this and shot up off the couch, pressing the button on the radio. "It's going after one of the geeks or geezers," he shouted into the radio.

"Where?" said the radio.

"Not sure yet."

("What do you see?") ("Just the battery. He's still kicking it.") ("What is he wearing?") Lawless hesitated, ("Loafers. Old man shoes. Cheap brand.") Jensen glanced at Baskel, who pressed the button again. "Geezer. One of the geezers."

"We'll put out a warning to all the volunteers to immediately move away from the water," the radio said back.

After a few moments, the radio crackled to life again. "Anything else?"

Baskel looked at Jensen.

("What else do you see?") ("The light stopped flickering. I'm walking back to the canal railing.") "All volunteer personnel are to move fifty feet away from the canals immediately," the radio clipped to Fred Reese's belt said.

Fred had another cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, and he held a fishing rod in his right hand, at least in his mind's eye. He didn't ordinarily smoke so much, but because he knew it really bothered Jim, he kept one going. He mostly just let them burn down; no need to inhale to get Jim's goat.

He knew he'd have to remove the earplugs sooner or later, but right now later sounded better than sooner. He cast out with his imaginary rod.

Jim heard the radio crackle but was too far away to make out the words and too stubborn to cross the street to find out. "He's wearing the damn thing, let him answer it."

The light flickered again: Jim walked back to the battery, kicked it, walked back to the railing and heard the radio again, turned his head to yell at Fred and walked into the thin stand holding the light, knocking it over the railing. He reaches and catches the stand but a bolt pops off and the light falls and is dangling two feet above the water, held only by the wire attaching it to the battery. He grabs for the wire, hears glass breaking followed by a brief blinding flash, then everything is black but the yellow-orange circle of light in the center of his vision where the bursting bulb has seared his retinas. He swears and gropes for the wire.

"Is he moving away from the canal?" Baskel asked Jensen, or Lawless; he wasn't sure who he was talking to anymore.

("No. The light flickered again and he's kicking the battery again.") "Damnit," He pressed the radio button. "Our guy's not moving away from the canal. Can we get them all to radio in so we know who's not responding?"

"We can, but it's going to take several minutes before we hear from them all, and even then there might be three or four, or five, who don't radio back. Some of them probably don't even remember how to the use the things. Do you have anything else?"

Baskel looked at Jensen.

Lawless thought, ("He's knocked the light off the stand and it's fallen over the side of the canal. He's reaching for it ...") Jim Waterman's vision had just returned when he found the wire. He hesitated and considered letting the damn thing go. What, would they dock his pay?

Just then he felt something sharp prick his hand. He quickly jerked the hand up, looked and blinked, squeezing his eyes shut before reopening them: his hand wasn't cut, it wasn't there. Blood squirted from his wrist and arced into the canal.

He leaned over the railing to look for his hand; it would need to be reattached at the hospital.

Three black heads came out of the canal, their mouths agape, showing silver blades that glinted in the ambient light. One bit down over his head but did not decapitate him, the other two latched onto his shoulders: Jim Waterman was pulled into the water before he could make a sound.

Fred was hungry; time to take the ear plugs out and see what old sourpuss was up to. He removed the plugs and put them in his pocket, hoping Jim wasn't looking.

He turned around and frowned; Jim was gone, and his light was out. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness across the street, he saw the light stand stuck on the railing, but there was no sign of Jim. He hurried over.

His radio crackled, "Get away from the canal immediately! Do not go near the canal!"

Fred ignored the radio, thinking Jim was in trouble. If he had fallen into the canal he would need help getting out. He may not like the man but he didn't want him to drown.

He rushed to the railing, peered into the canal and called out, "Jim?"

Two of the small creatures came up and grabbed him, one around the middle, the other by the head: Fred Reese was pulled into the canal and torn apart, pieces of him joining pieces of Jim Waterman in the bellies of six monsters whose hunger could never be satiated.

"What's happening? What's happening?" Baskel yelled at Jensen and Lawless.

("They're gone.") Lawless's voice said.

"Aw shit."

("Are we too late?") Lawless's voice asked.

"Damn right we were too late," Baskel said, the frustration showing in his voice. "We're always too late."

("Maybe. We'll have to wait.") Baskel said, "What are you two talking about? What, dammit? Stop keeping secrets, people are being killed! What the hell are you talking about?"

Lawless answered, ("The creature has already spawned. It has young now.") Baskel's jaw dropped to his chest. "How many?" he asked, his voice cracking.

("There are at least three young, maybe more.") Baskel, desperate, said, "How bad can that be? We get the canals drained in a day or so and we find and kill them all."

Jensen thought, ("They may not be here in a couple of days. They will evolve and grow wings. The adult may have already done so.") Baskel couldn't believe what he was hearing. Wings?

("Yes. Wings. They will each grow wings and disperse over your planet, finding new waterways to colonize so they can repeat what is happening here. Then, in a week, each of those colonies will disperse. They will continue to multiply and disperse until they become the dominant species on your planet.") "The military will get involved." Baskel suddenly remembered the nightmare from his nap, and his chest constricted with fear.

("You cannot kill them. They will adapt to any defense or weapon you create.") "We'll nuke 'em then."

("Yes, your nuclear weapons can destroy them, but once they become numerous and have dispersed over your lands you will have to destroy your planet to stop them. If we allow this colony to disperse, your planet is doomed because the Evil Species will not stop until they have killed and eaten every living creature.")

Chapter 17.

"Which way will it go, toward Lateral Number Three, into the middle of town, or will it go west, maybe follow Lateral Number Four out of town? Or switch to Lateral Number Five?"

Captain Bozeman and his team were studying a blow-up of the canal map pinned to the wall, trying to guess the creature's next move.

Five patrols cars and twelve officers, including two sharpshooters with high-powered rifles, were at the scene where the volunteers had disappeared. A helicopter with another sharpshooter hovered above the canal, lighting the area up like noontime with its powerful searchlight. In all, there were five shotguns, five handguns, and three high-powered rifles pointed at the brightly-lit canal. Still, no one felt safe.

No remains of either volunteer could be found.

The on-site officers didn't know who or what had knocked the light over. If the geezer did it the mistake cost him his life, but if the monster did it then it wasn't afraid of light and they and all the volunteers were in great danger.

They radioed their concern in and were relieved when Bozemen told them the volunteer's actions had caused his own death.

They left the scene as they found it; there was no reason to collect the equipment tonight and no one wanted to be within fifty feet of the canal any longer than necessary.

"Get back on the radio," Captain Bozeman said, pointing to the guy standing closest to the set. "Tell everyone to make sure their lights are on and to stay at least fifty feet from the canals. If their light breaks or the battery goes dead, tell them to leave everything and go home."

"Move!" Bozeman yelled when the guy didn't jump fast enough. "And make sure you get a confirmation from everyone. Anyone doesn't answer, you send a patrol car. I don't want anyone else getting killed tonight! You hear that? You all hear that!?"

Everyone nodded.

He looked at the map again and made a decision: the creature would move into the more populous part of town, away from the older downtown area.