Fran had heard about the monsters men hunted
down and killed. But she had never seen one—until
the night that Sammy looked at her and screamed....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
January 1952
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The girl ran like the hunted thing she was, her bare feet flashing overthe lush spring grass. She sobbed with the effort of breathing, andher slight, immature body trembled with exhaustion beneath her raggeddress. Fear was a wild glitter in her eyes as she stared about her insearch of refuge.
The two boys came racing in pursuit, yelling threats between laboredsnatches of breath.
"Stop, Fran!" Davey Becker panted. "You can't get away! We'll get you!"A thread of saliva stretched from his pendulous lower lip, soakinginto the front of his tattered shirt. He was a hulking figure with dulleyes set deep under a low forehead.
Sammy Becker was two years older than his brother, smaller and slimmeryet making up in cunning and a shrewish driving force what he lacked inbulk. At eighteen he was the acknowledged leader of the pair, an oddlyyoung-old figure with wizened features and pale eyes that gleamed withsadistic urges.
"Stop!" he screeched. "You better stop, you crazy orphan! You'll besorry!"
She knew better than to stop. Frequent torment at the hands of Sammyand Davey told her she could expect no mercy after having led them onthis long chase. In despair she realized it had been a serious mistaketo wander away from the house. Little enough protection was to beexpected of Big Luke Becker, but for the most part he didn't allow hissons to bedevil her while the endless daily round of household choresremained to be done.
Briefly and poignantly she wished she had a father of her own—a realfather to comfort her and keep her from harm. She had never knownwhat her father was like. Vaguely she remembered having heard that hehad died in the war. Her mother had told her that once, a long timeago—but even her mother was only a dim memory. A lot of people seemedto have died in the war—millions of them. She could not understand howthere could ever have been that many people, for there did not seem tobe many at all in the world she knew.
Darting a glance behind her, she saw Sammy and Davey were gaining.Frantically she searched the grassy field again, bright and still underthe afternoon sun.
There seemed no place at all where she could hide. And she had tohide. A stabbing pain in her chest warned her she couldn't keep up herflight.
She didn't want Davey and Sammy to reach her. Not out here, with no oneelse around. She knew Sammy would beat her until her resistance wasgone. Then he would run his sweaty hands over her, laughing shrilly andbreathing hard. Sammy always managed it so that Davey was the one whoheld her. She shuddered. She didn't like the things Sammy did with hishands.
A short distance ahead she saw that the field rose in a ridge, andsuddenly she recognized the spot. There was a ravine below the ridge,choked with brush. She would be able to hide here, at least until shehad caught her breath and could run again.
She drew upon her last dregs of strength and urged her legs into aburst of speed. The ridge rose before her as she drew ahead of the twoboys. She struggled up the slope, and the brush along the crest whippedat her legs and caught at her dress as she beat her way through it. Shewent down the opposite slope in staggering leaps. Near the bottom ofthe ravine she fell and rolled the last