Then there was another and another, until they blended together into a steady drone.
And over it came the sudden firing of a heavy gun, while a series of rapid thuds came from the garden behind the house. Rover let out two loud barks, and then screamed in animal agony!
Amos stumbled toward the back door, but Ruth was already ahead of him. “Dick’s dog! Now they’ve got his dog!” she cried out.
Before Amos could stop her, she threw back the door and darted out. There was another burst of shots and a sick cry. Ruth was crumpling before he could get to the doorway.
2
My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?… I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint: my heart is like wax; it is melted in the midst of my bowels. My strength is dried up like a potsherd; and my tongue cleaveth to my jaws; and thou hast brought me into the dust of death.
There were no more shots as he ran to her and gathered her into his arms. The last of the alien delta planes had gone over, heading for Topeka or whatever city they were attacking.
Ruth was still alive. One of the ugly slugs had caught her in the abdomen, ripping away part of her side, and the wound was bleeding horribly. But he felt her heart still beating, and she moaned faintly when he lifted her.
Then, as he put her on the couch, she opened her eyes briefly, saw him, and tried to smile. Her lips moved, and he dropped his head to hear.
“I’m sorry, Amos. Foolish. Nuisance. Sorry.”
Her eyes closed, but she smiled again after he bent to kiss her lips. “Glad now. Waited so long.”
Anne stooa in the doorway, staring unbelievingly. But as Amos stood up, she unfroze and darted to the medicine cabinet, to come back and begin snipping away the ruined dress and trying to staunch the flow of blood.
Amos reached for the phone, unable to see it clearly. He mumbled something to the operator, and a minute later to Doc Miller. He’d been afraid that the doctor would still be out. He had a feeling that Doc had promised to come, but could remember no words.
The flow of blood outside the wound had been stopped, but Ruth was white, even to her lips. Anne forced him back to a chair, her fingers gentle on his arm.
“I’m sorry, Father Strong. I—I…”
He stood up after a few minutes and went over to stand beside Ruth, letting his eyes turn toward the half-set table. There was a smell of scorching food in the air, and he went out to the old wood-burning stove to pull the pans off and drop them into the sink. Anne followed, but he hardly saw her, until he heard her begin to cry softly. There were tears this time.
“The ways of God are not the ways of man, Anne,” he said, and the words released a flood of his own emotions. He sank tiredly onto a stool, his hands falling limply onto his lap. He dropped his head against the table, feeling the weakness and uncertainty of age. “We love the carnal form and our hearts are broken when it is gone. Only God can know all of any of us or count the tangled threads of our lives. It isn’t good to hate God!”
She moved beside him as he rose and returned to the living room. “I don’t, Father Strong. I never did.” He couldn’t be sure of the honesty of it, but he made no effort to question her, and she sighed. “Mother Ruth isn’t dead yet!”
He was saved from any answer by the door being slammed open as Doc Miller came rushing in. The plump little man took one quick look at Ruth and was beside her, reaching for plasma and his equipment. He handed the plasma bottle to Anne, and began working carefully.
“There’s a chance,” he said finally. “If she were younger or stronger, I’d say there was an excellent chance. But now, since you believe in it, you’d better do some fancy praying.”
“I’ve been praying,” Amos told him, realizing that it was true. The prayers had begun inside his head before she was outside the door, and they had never ceased.
They moved her gently, couch and all, into the bedroom, where the blinds could be drawn, and where the other sounds of the house couldn’t reach her. Doc gave Anne a shot of something and sent her into the other bedroom. He turned to Amos, but didn’t insist when the minister shook his head.
“I’ll stay here, Amos,” Doc said, “with you. As long as I can until I get another emergency call. The switchboard girl knows where I am.”
He went back into the bedroom without closing the door. Amos stood in the center of the living room, his head bowed, for long minutes.
It was a whining sound that finally called him back to the world around him. He went to the back door and stared out. The Scotty was still alive, pulling its little body along the dirt of the garden toward the house. The whole hind section was paralyzed, and the animal must have been in agony from the horrible wound on its back. But it saw him and whined again, struggling toward him.
He went out automatically. He had never been fond of the dog, nor it of him. But now there was an understanding between them. “Shh, Rover,” he told the dog. “Quiet, boy. The mistress is all right.”
Rover whined again, and a wet tongue caressed Amos’ hand. He bent as gently as he could to examine the wound. Then he stood up, trying to reassure the animal.
He found Richard’s hunting rifle in one of the trunks and made sure it was unrusted. He loaded it carefully, feeling his skin crawl at the touch of the gun. It seemed strange to use the weapon on Rover when the dog and Richard had both found such pleasure in hunting wjth this same gun. But he couldn’t see the animal suffering.
Rover looked up and tried to bark as he saw the gun. Amos dropped beside him, feeling that the dog knew what he meant to do. The eyes looked up at him with a curious understanding as he placed the muzzle near the animal’s head. Amos stopped, wondering. The wound was a horrible thing—but Doc might be able to save the animal, even though he was no veterinarian. If it had been a wounded human, the attempt would have to be made.
Rover drew back his lips, and Amos stopped, expecting a growl. He even reached out to put the gun away. But the wet tongue came out again, brushing across his hand, accepting the fate intended, and blessing him for it. He patted the dog’s head, closed his eyes, and pulled the trigger. It was merciful. There wasn’t even time for a cry of pain.
If the dog had fought him, if it had struggled against its fate in a final desire to live… But it had submitted to what it considered a superior being. Only man could defy a Higher Will. Rover had accepted… and Rover was dead. He buried the small body in the soft dirt of the garden.
Doc stood in the doorway when he started back for the house. “I heard the shot and thought you were trying something foolish,” the doctor said. “I should have known better, I guess, with your beliefs. Then I waited here, listening for a snake plane, ready to pull you back. According to the television, they must be returning by now.”
Amos nodded. He found Ruth still in a coma, with nothing he could do. Then he remembered the planes and turned to watch the television. Topeka was off the air, but another station was showing news films.
Hospitals, schools, and similar places seemed to have been the chief targets of the aliens. Gas had accounted for a number of deaths, though those could have been prevented if instructions had been followed. But the incendiaries had caused the greatest damage.
And the aliens had gotten at least as rough treatment as they had meted out. Of the forty that had been counted, twenty-nine were certainly down.
“I wonder if they’re saying prayers to God for their dead?” Doc asked. “Or doesn’t your God extend his mercy to races other than man?”