Free Invaders From Mars by Ray Garton Page B

he probably got a ride to the base with one of the guys.”
    “No . . .” David fidgeted, the movie forgotten.
    “Hey,” Mom said, patting the sofa cushion beside her. “What’s the matter?”
    David sat beside her, trying to choose his words carefully. “Well, I’m not sure, Mom. Dad’s . . . weirded out.”
    She put an arm around him and held him close. “Oh, you know your father, David. He’s probably got a lot on his mind. He’s a little worried about that bio-lab arm, you know. C’mon, don’t worry. Okay?”
    David looked away from her, unable to reply. He was worried. He was scared. And he felt as if he might never stop being scared again.
    “What’s this on the tube?”
    David shrugged.
    “What? There’s a monster movie on TV and you don’t know what it is?”
    He shrugged again.
    “You want something to eat, Champ?”
    “No.”
    “Tell you what. I’ll get some Oreos and milk and we can watch this movie together while we wait for your dad. How about that?”
    David looked up and saw the anticipation in her face. He knew if he turned down Oreos and milk, not to mention a monster movie, she would worry. He decided to make her feel better.
    “Okay,” he said.
    “Great.” She hurried into the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “Don’t worry, he’ll be back soon. You’ll see.”
    When George had not returned by the time dinner was ready, Ellen became concerned. Trying to remain calm for David, she put dinner in the oven to keep warm and called a few of George’s friends from the base, casually asking them if they’d seen him.
    “He wasn’t at work today,” Larry Hoban said. “Is anything wrong?”
    “Oh, no,” Ellen assured him, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice, “no, there’s nothing wrong. I just needed him to do a favor for me, that’s all. I wondered where he was. Thank you.” She slammed the receiver in its cradle unintentionally hard.
    He didn’t even go to work! she thought, feeling the beginnings of panic set in.
    “Okay,” she said quietly to herself, picking up the phone again, “ now I’m worried.”
    “Who’re you calling?”
    She looked up to see David standing on the staircase, his face tense with worry.
    “I’m calling the police, honey,” she replied, expecting to see alarm in his eyes. Instead, his shoulders slumped with what seemed to be relief.
    “Good,” he whispered, coming down the stairs. He stood beside her as she punched in the number on the phone.
    Ellen’s finger hesitated over the telephone’s square buttons. It wasn’t a number she dialed often—only once before, in fact. George had gone away on business for the weekend—some meeting in Washington, or something—and someone had tried to break into the house late at night. David had woken her, his eyes wide and fearful. Remembering how scared she had been, her hand trembled over the phone, and it occurred to her that she was calling the police, that George was gone, that something was not right, and her throat began to burn. She looked down at her son; he was waiting pensively, glancing from the phone to her and back again.
    “David, honey,” she said softly, “why don’t you go out on the front porch? Maybe keep an eye out for your dad? Okay?”
    He nodded slightly, turned and left.
    “Jesus,” she sighed, finishing the number.
    Chief Ward said that he’d be there in just a few minutes. She hung up, stared at the phone a moment, then quickly crossed herself. She hadn’t been a practicing Catholic since high school, but she never hesitated to flick her hand up and down and back and forth when the waters got a little choppy.
    She went out on the porch and sat down next to David.
    “The chief said he’d be right over, Champ,” she said, trying to sound cheery and unworried.
    “You know, Mom,” David said after a moment, “Dad has been acting kinda funny since this morning. Since he went over the hill.”
    “C’mon, David, I told you not to worry. He’s just