“That’s right,” Spalding said calmly. “It was my wife Marge who was screaming.”
Adams blinked. “Mrs. Spalding? But you all seem so calm now—I mean, I guess everything’s under control—”
“Yes. Everything is under control,” Spalding said quietly.
“If that’s the case,” Adams said, “I guess I’ll just be going along on home, then. Sorry to have bothered you. Just that I thought you might be needing help—”
“We appreciate that very much, Mr. Adams. Wouldn’t you step in for a moment?”
“Oh, but it’s late, and you say everything’s under control—”
Spalding smiled. “All the same, if you’d come inside—”
“Yes, do come in,” Marge urged. “We’ll fix you a little nightcap.”
Adams hesitated doubtfully, wavering between his desire to be a good neighbor and his wish to get home and to bed. At length he said, “Well, just for a moment. I’ve always believed in being neighborly. Guess I’ll come in, if you’re nice enough to ask me.”
“We’re glad to have you, Mr. Adams. There—don’t stand in the hall. Come on in and close the door. This is my brother-in-law, Ted Kennedy.”
“How do you do,” Adams said, as Spalding closed the door. The little man looked around, suddenly confused. “Why—you all look so grim—”
Hands reached for him. Mr. Adams uttered half a cry of surprise before Spalding’s hand tightened over his mouth. The absorption began…
There was no stopping it. Mr. Adams was absorbed and transformed.
The hunger of the mimic of Altair VI was insatiable. Today, Mr. Adams; tomorrow, the universe…
In the Beginning: Tales From the Pulp Era Page 39