Chapter C: G. got up and limped away, and Dr. Weeve turned in surprise. "What

are you waiting for? Why don't you finish him?"

Marston grinned. "He's headed for the park so I'll finish him there. I'd like some old style hunting."

"Are you taking leave of your senses?" exclaimed Dr. Weeve. "What about the weapon he used on Engel? Without this armorglass, you're risking your life!"

"If he has a weapon, why didn't he use it?" Marston fumed. "It's probably in that briefcase he dropped." He bellowed into the mike, "Clear the park!"

Numbly Engel watched C. G. stumble past police riflemen at the end of the street and crawl into dense shrubbery. The globe zoomed ahead, then poised motionless over treetops as Marston searched for his prey.

"Watch for him!" Marston whispered huskily.

But Engel watched the screen in horror. A telltale circle of light, its rim overlapping that of C. G.'s, burned steadily brighter. An alarm bell rang on the instrument panel. Dr. Weeve raised a claw-like hand to a switch, then eyed Engel queerly. "Something wrong?" he said. "Stomach queasy?"

His eyes fell on the screen. "Another alien!" he shrieked.

Dr. Weeve's thin lips parted and his fingers fumbled at the safety catch of his gun. Engel hurled him aside and grabbed at the wheel. The globe keeled crazily, the trees rushed up at them. With a dull crash the glass shattered, and struggling out of Marston's flabby arms, Engel kicked open the door and dropped to earth. He scrambled to his feet and crashed through high bushes, ducking as a lance of flame charred branches overhead.

"There's two of them!" Marston's choked voice thundered and reverberated against distant towers.

Engel paused in a dark glade to hear a police whistle shrill and a dry crackling grow louder behind him. Stealthily he crept toward sunlight. With a shock he saw C. G. sitting in the open, exposed and dejected, his head bowed in pain. Engel dashed over to him, hoisted him on his shoulders, and staggered over thick grass to a gravel walk. Then the ground beneath him quaked. The hoarse cries of the hunters faded.

* * * * *

Gently he lowered C. G. to a park bench, and an old man nodding in the warm sunshine raised bleary, astonished eyes. Engel turned to see a nurse pushing a baby carriage and the old, familiar skyline of the city smiling down on them. He shook with relief. Like an enraptured music lover he listened to the faint roar of traffic.

"Don't let them kill me!" C. G. cried.

"Winos with the d.t.s," the old man muttered and stomped off.

"They're gone--all gone!" Engel shouted.

The little fellow groaned, pressing his wound. "You helped me--your world need not fear us...."

Engel spoke to him comfortingly. "Hold on, buddy, I'll get a doctor." He pushed his way through a gathering crowd to a telephone booth. As he stepped inside, he saw C. G. limp quickly to the subway stairs. By the time he had hurried back, the little fellow was gone.

Puzzled, Engel reached for a hand railing to steady himself. He had lived a nightmare filled with obsessed men who dreaded blue-skinned aliens from a distant world! He touched something sticky and realized the bleeding C. G. must have clung to the railing as he descended. Then he suddenly hoped he was mistaken. The dark blotch on his fingers could be wet paint. It had to be.

It was blue....