“They do where I come from. You might as well try to relax, Ross Ed. There isn’t anything we can do. Mr. Walter has your alien and my van keys.”

“I could swear I heard one couple speaking Japanese. At least, I think it was Japanese. I didn’t know you could get here from Japan in half a day.”

She considered. “Maybe they’re from Topeka. Eat your steak.”

Nobody bothered them for the rest of the day. They were not allowed out, bul any requests they made were fulfilled promptly, politely, and to the best of their hosts’ ability. Throughout, they were treated with a combination of the utmost courtesy and firmness.

“You’ll see tonight,” was all they were told.

It was with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation that they counted off the hours. Brought back into the store, they watched as the visitors left in twos and threes. One by one, cars and vans and trucks pulled out of the once-crowded parking area in front of the building. Others departed from across the street. The organization these people belonged to might be secretive, but it wasn’t paranoid. Plenty of town-folk were witness to their comings and goings.

Then maybe they weren’t about to be sacrificed by a coven of clean-living devil-worshipers, Ross decided with more than a modicum of relief.

Much later and long after everyone else had left, Waiter looked up while Martha escorted the captives around back. It was reassuring to see the old van parked between rusting junkers and a retired Winnebago.

Ross Ed checked his watch. “It’s going on near midnight.”

“I knew it was late,” Caroline commented. “I didn’t realize it was that late.”

“More night driving,” he groused. “Just when I thought we were back on a normal schedule.”

As it turned out, neither of them had to do any driving. It was Martha who slipped behind the wheel and shoved the ignition key into its slot. Seating the captives on the foldout bed, her husband rotated the passenger chair until it faced rearward. The .45 dangled loosely from his right hand. Untouched, the alien body lay on the floor exactly as Ross had left it.

The van started up smoothly and Martha pulled out of the lot. Through the windows Ross saw scattered mountain homes quickly give way to solid forest.

“You be careful with my van.” Under the circumstances, Caroline’s warning carried little weight. “It’s not only my transportation, it’s my home.”

“And very nicely done up it is, dear.” Martha glanced rearward. “Although those back windows could really do with some new curtains.”

“I don’t concern myself with the decor,” Caroline shot back. “I’m not really the domestic type.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Walter was waving the pistol in small, lazy circles. “After tonight you won’t have to worry about such things anymore.”

Ross Ed tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not what you think, son. Nothing’s going to happen to you. Leastwise, nothing bad. I’m not going to do anything to you, not is Martha, not are any of our friends. But what they’re going to do, well, I imagine it’s going to be pretty wonderful. Whatever it is, they’ll do it to us as well, so we’re all in the same boat, you see.” He sucked pine scent. “This is a momentous evening. Not only for you, and for us, but for all mankind.”

“I still don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” Ross responded irritably. “I miss my own car, I’m tired of being chased, and I’d like some real answers to my questions.”

“Yeah, you owe us. No more cryptograms.”

Ross eyed his companion admirably, wishing he could use words the way she did.

The store owner seemed about to respond, but once again his wife dissuaded him. “Come on now, Walter. They’ve waited this long. Let’s not spoil the surprise.”

There was nothing the two discouraged captives could do but sit and wait as the van bounced its way down the poorly maintained forest road.

“I don’t much like surprises.” Ross Ed lay down on the bed, his long legs draped uncomfortably over the end.

“Well, you’ll like this one, son. I guarantee it.”

Another hour’s casual driving brought them to a turnoff which was little more than an overgrown track. Broken stems and branches showed where many vehicles had preceded the van. With high reeds blocking the view off to their right, it was impossible to see anything that looked like a real road, but Martha seemed to know exactly where she was going.

The reeds opened up to reveal a silvery shimmering: a mountain lake bordered by more cattails and high ponderosa pines. As they turned toward the gleaming body of water, Ross thought he could make out lights bobbing in the darkness. The unfulfilled moon helped.

A few headlights showed where the others had parked. The weaving points of illumination he’d seen from the van were produced by flashlights and lanterns of varying strength. Martha pulled the van in between a late-model Lincoln and a big Dodge ramcharger.

“Well, we’re here.” Her husband slid forward, opened the side door, and stepped our. “Let’s go.” He was staring off into the darkness. “I think James and Jenny brought our outfits. Sorry we don’t have any for you two.”

“Yes,” agreed Martha as she came around the front of the van to rejoin them. “I’m afraid we wouldn’t have anything to fit you anyway, young man. But if you stay in the background there shouldn’t be any problem.” She’d brought the shotgun with her, Ross noted.

“I’ll be back in a jif.” Her husband disappeared in the direction of the lake.

His wife gestured with the riot gun. “No last-minute heroics, please. Gunfire here would spoil everything.”

“Take it easy.” I ain’t the heroic type.” Feeling a hand on his arm, Ross looked down to see Caroline batting her lashes at him.

“Aw, c’mon, I bet you could be if you had to.”

“Well, I don’t have to. Can’t you be serious for a moment?”

“If I strain real hard I can sometimes manage it,” she told him, clinging tighter to his arm.

“That’s the spirit, dear. Really, you have nothing to worry about.” She looked off to her left. “I see they’re setting up.”

Between lake and forest was a low grassy area; too muddy to qualify as a real meadow, too dry to pass for lake bottom. The store owners’ numerous and oddly assorted friends were milling about there, well away from their cars. Thanks to the abundant artificial light, Ross Ed could see that they were all dressed alike, though he couldn’t make out any details.

Walter returned carrying two sets of neatly folded and pressed clothing. While his wife looked on he donned a satin overcape with billowing sleeves. Bright gold, it wrapped around and snugged at the waist with a silver sash, the combination an odd mix of the ultramodern and medieval. Unrecognizable insignia and designs had been woven into the overcape with brightly colored thread. His head remained unadorned, which allowed Ross Ed to relax. He’d been half expecting a tall, pointy cap of some kind.

Taking the shotgun from his wife, the store owner kept watch while she slipped into her own identical outfit. After they traded back, he climbed into the open van and reemerged with Jed cradled gently in his arms. The six limbs hung limp but the head and neck, as always, remained stiff and perpendicular to the spine.

“Who are you people, really?” the uneasy Texan demanded to

“Why, we are the Circle of Knowers.” The woman gestured cheerfully with the Mossburg. “Hurry up, now. We’re almost ready.” There was an excitement, a tension in her voice that Ross Ed hadn’t noticed before.

“Knowers of what?” Caroline inquired as they were marched toward the near-meadow.

“Why, the visitations, of course. Honestly, the information that the so-called news media conceal! Sometimes I think no one else besides the Knowers know how to read between the lines. Don’t you see the images on your television set that They don’t mean for you to see?”

Though it was difficult in the darkness, Ross Ed tried to count flashlights and forms. He estimated between thirty and forty overcaped supplicants had formed a crescent-shaped line near the back of the scruffy meadow, facing the lake. Their vehicles were parked well away from this staging area.

“I guess not,” he finally replied. “I don’t read the papers or watch the news on TV much. Too depressing.”

“Well, I do.” Caroline flipped her hair back, not wanting to miss anything. “I’m so ‘up’ most of the time that I need an occasional dose of depression to bring me back to Earth.”

The woman chuckled unexpectedly. “’Bring you back to Earth.’ That’s very good, dear. Very appropriate.”

“So what are we doing here?” Caroline pressed the woman. “Let me guess: it’s the local midnight-fishing derby. The big mouth who catches the biggest bigmouth gets another star sewn on his or her cape.”