The cab of the truck wobbled and
swayed. The feel of the vehicle was entirely unlike the feel of a
passenger car. It felt tail-heavy. The driver had ceased to talk. He
seemed to be musing as he drove. He'd asked about the invaders but
seemed almost indifferent to any adventures Jill and Lockley might
have had on their way out. He didn't ask what they'd done for food. He
was thinking of something else.
Lockley found himself questioning the driver's statements just after
they got in. Driving for the Army. The Army kept track of where the
terror beams existed, and notified this truck by truck radio, and he
dodged all such road barriers. That was what he said. It seemed
plausible, but--
"One thing strikes me funny," said the driver, musingly. "Those
critters blindfoldin' you and those other guys. What' you think they
did it for?"
"To keep us from seeing them," said Lockley, curtly.
"But why'd they want to do that?"
"Because," said Lockley, "they might not have been Martians. They
might not have been critters. They might have been men."
On the instant he regretted bitterly that he'd said it. It was a
guess, only, with all the evidence against it.
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