None of it was food.
Frowning, Johnny went back to the tent’s entrance. His stomach was growling now, complaining about being empty too long.
He pushed the tent flap back half an inch and peered outside. A group of men were walking in his direction. Four of them. One wore a soldier’s uniform and had a big pistol strapped to his hip. The others wore ordinary clothes: slacks, windbreaker jackets. One of them was smoking a pipe—or rather, he was waving it in his hand as he talked, swinging the pipe back and forth and pointing its stem at the glowing ship, then back at the other three men.
Johnny knew that if he stepped outside the tent now they would see him as clearly as anything.
Then he realized that the situation was even worse. They were heading straight for this tent!
There wasn’t any time to be scared. Johnny let the tent flap drop back into place and dived under one of the tables. No place else to hide.
He crawled into the farthest corner of the tent, under the table, and huddled there with his knees pulled up tight against his nose and the blanket wrapped around him.
Sure enough, the voices marched straight up to the tent and the lights flicked on.
«You’d better get some sleep, Ed. No sense staying up all night again.»
«Yeah, I will. Just want to go over the tapes from this afternoon one more time.»
«Might as well go to sleep, for all the good that’s going to do you.»
«I know. Well… see you tomorrow.»
«G’night.»
From underneath the table, Johnny saw a pair of desert-booted feet walk into the tent. The man, whoever it was, wore striped slacks. He wasn’t a soldier, or a policeman, and that let Johnny breathe a little easier.
He won’t notice me under here, Johnny thought. I’ll just wait until he leaves and …
«You can come out of there now,» the man’s voice said.
Johnny froze. He didn’t even breathe.
The man squatted down and grinned at Johnny. «Come on, kid. I’m not going to hurt you. I ran away from home a few times myself.»
Feeling helpless, Johnny crawled out from under the table. He stood up slowly, feeling stiff and achy all of a sudden.
The man looked him over. «When’s the last time you ate?»
«Around noontime.»
Johnny watched the man’s face. He had stopped grinning, and there were tight lines around his mouth and eyes that came from worry. Or maybe anger. He wasn’t as big as Johnny’s father, but he was solidly built. His hair was dark and long, almost down to his shoulders. His eyes were deep brown, almost black, and burning with some inner fire.
«You must be hungry.»
Johnny nodded.
«If I go out to the cook van and get you some food, will you still be here when I come back?»
The thought of food reminded Johnny how hungry he really was. His stomach felt hollow.
«How do I know you won’t bring back the State Troopers?» he asked.
The man shrugged, «How do I know you’ll stay here and wait for me to come back?»
Johnny said nothing.
«Look kid,» the man said, more gently, «I’m not going to hurt you. Sooner or later you’re going to have to go home, but if you want to eat and maybe talk, then we can do that. I won’t tell anybody you’re here.»
Johnny wanted to believe him. The man wasn’t smiling; he seemed very serious about the whole thing.
«You’ve got to start trusting somebody, sooner or later,» he said.
«Yeah…» Johnny’s voice didn’t sound very sure about it, even to himself.
«My name’s Gene Beldone.» He put his hand out.
Johnny reached for it. «I’m Johnny Donato,» he said. Gene’s grip was strong.
«Okay Johnny,» Gene smiled wide. «You wait here and I’ll get you some food.»
Gene came back in five minutes with an Army type of plastic tray heaped with hot, steaming food. And a mug of cold milk to wash it down. There were no chairs in the tent, but Gene pushed aside some of the instruments and helped Johnny to clamber up on the table.
For several minutes Johnny concentrated on eating. Gene went to the other table and fiddled around with what looked like a tape recorder.
«Did you really run away from home?» Johnny asked at last.
Gene looked up from his work. «Sure did. More than once. I know how it feels.»
«Yeah.»
«But…» Gene walked over to stand beside Johnny. «You know you’ll have to go back home again, don’t you?»
«I guess so.»
«Your parents are probably worried. I thought I heard one of the State Troopers say that you were ill?»
Johnny nodded.
«Want to talk about it?»
Johnny turned his attention back to the tray of food. «No.»
Gene gave a little one-shouldered shrug. «Okay. As long as you don’t need any medicine right away, or anything like that.»
Looking up again, Johnny asked, «Are you a scientist?»
«Sort of. I’m a linguist.»
«Huh?»
«I study languages. The Army came and got me out of the university so I could help them understand the language the aliens speak.»
«Aliens?»
«The men from the ship.»
«Oh. Aliens—that’s what you call them?»
«Right.»
«Can you understand what they’re saying?»
Gene grinned again, but this time it wasn’t a happy expression. «Can’t understand anything,» he said.
«Nothing?» Johnny felt suddenly alarmed. «Why not?»
«Because the aliens haven’t said anything to us.»
«Huh?»
With a shake of his head, Gene said, «They just come out every day at high noon, stand there for a few minutes while we talk at them, and then pop back into their ship. I don’t think they’re listening to us at all. In fact, I don’t think they’re even looking at us. It’s like they don’t even know we’re here!»
Gene let Johnny listen to the tapes of their attempts to talk to the aliens.
With the big padded stereo earphones clamped to his head, Johnny could hear the Army officers speaking, and another man that Gene said was a scientist from Washington. He could hear the wind, and a soft whistling sound, like the steady note of a telephone that’s been left off the hook for too long. But no sounds at all from the aliens. No words of any kind, in any language.
Gene helped take the earphones off Johnny’s head.
«They haven’t said anything at all?»
«Nothing,» Gene answered, clicking off the tape recorder. «The only sound to come from them is that sort of whistling thing—and that’s coming from the ship. Some of the Army engineers think it’s a power generator of some sort.»
«Then we can’t talk with them.» Johnny suddenly felt very tired and defeated.
«We can talk to them,» Gene said, «but I’m not even certain that they hear us. It’s… it’s pretty weird. They seem to look right through us—as if we’re pictures hanging on a wall.»
«Or rocks or grass or something.»
«Right!» Gene looked impressed. «Like we’re a part of the scenery, nothing special, nothing you’d want to talk to.»
Something in Johnny was churning, trying to break loose. He felt tears forming in his eyes. «Then how can I tell them…»
«Tell them what?» Gene asked.
Johnny fought down his feelings. «Nothing,» he said. «It’s nothing.»
Gene came over and put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. «So you’re going to tough it out, huh?»
«What do you mean?»
Smiling, Gene answered, «Listen kid. Nobody runs away from home and sneaks into an Army camp just for fun. At first I thought you were just curious about the aliens. But now… looks to me as if you’ve got something pretty big on your mind.»
Johnny didn’t reply, but—strangely—he felt safe with this man. He wasn’t afraid of him anymore.