games. There's more to it than you know."
The car passed through a cool, wooded section and Louise leaned back and drank in the beauty of it.
"Hush-hush, top secret stuff," she said. "Grown men playing children's games."
"Pretty deadly games for children, darling."
IN THE late afternoon they bypassed the central part of Baltimore and headed north beyond the suburb of Towson toward Dell's truck farm.
His sign was visible for a half mile:
YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT
Eat the Best
EAT DELL'S VEGETABLE S
"Dr. Hamon Dell, world's foremost biochemist — and truck farmer," Curt muttered as he swung the car off the highway.
Louise stepped out when the tires ceased crunching on the gravel lane. She scanned the fields and old woods beyond the ancient but preserved farmhouse. "It's so unearthly."
Curt followed. The song of birds, which had been so noticeable before, seemed strangely muted. The land itself was an alien, faintly greenish hue, a color repulsive to more than just the eyes.
"It must be something in this particular soil," said Curt, "something that gives it that color and produces such wonderful crops. I'll have to remember to ask Dell about it."
"You want Dr. Dell?"
They whirled at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Louise ut tered a startled cry.
The gaunt figure behind them coughed asthmatically and pointed with an arm that seemed composed only of bones and brownish skin, so thin as to be almost translucent.
"Yes," said Curt shakenly. "We're friends of his."
"Dell's in back. I'll tell him you're here."
The figure shambled away and Louise shook herself as if to rid her mind of the vision. "If our grandchildren ever ask about zombies, I can tell them. Who in the world do you suppose he is?"
"Hired man, I suppose. Sounds as if he should be in a lung sanatarium. Funny that Dell would keep him around in that condition."
From somewhere behind the house came the sound of a truck engine. Curt took Louise's arm and led her around the trim, graveled path.
The old farmhouse had been very carefully renovated. Everywhere was evidence of exqusite care, yet the cumulative atmosphere remained uninviting, almost oppressive. Curt told himself it was the utter silence, made even more tense by the lonely chugging of the engine in back, and the incredible harsh color of the soil beneath their feet.
ROUNDING the corner, they came in sight of a massive tank truck. From it a hose led to an underground storage tank and pulsed slowly under the force of the liquid gushing through it. No one was in sight.
"What could that be for?" asked Louise.
"You've got me. Could be gasoline, but Dell hasn't any reason for storing that much here."
They advanced slowly and amazement crept over Curt as he comprehended the massiveness of the machine. The tank was of elliptical cross section, over ten
feet on its major axis. Six double wheels supported the rear; even the front ones were double. In spite of such wide weight distribution, the tires were pressing down the utterly dry ground to a depth of an inch or more.
'They must haul liquid lead in that thing," said Curt.
"It's getting cool. I wish Dell would show up." Louise glanced out over the twenty-acre expanse of truck farm. Thick rows of robust plants covered the area. Tomatoes, carrots, beets, lettuce, and other vegetables — a hundred or so fruit trees were at the far end. Between them ran the road over which the massive truck had apparently entered the farm from the rear.
A heavy step sounded abruptly and Dell's shaggy head appeared from around the end of the truck. His face lighted with pleasure.
"Curt, my boy! And Louise! I thought you weren't going to show up at all."
Curt's hand was almost lost in Dell's enormous grip, but it wasn't because of that that his grip was passive. It was his shocked reaction to Dell's haggard appearance. The fierce eyes looked merely old and
The car passed through a cool, wooded section and Louise leaned back and drank in the beauty of it.
"Hush-hush, top secret stuff," she said. "Grown men playing children's games."
"Pretty deadly games for children, darling."
IN THE late afternoon they bypassed the central part of Baltimore and headed north beyond the suburb of Towson toward Dell's truck farm.
His sign was visible for a half mile:
YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT
Eat the Best
EAT DELL'S VEGETABLE S
"Dr. Hamon Dell, world's foremost biochemist — and truck farmer," Curt muttered as he swung the car off the highway.
Louise stepped out when the tires ceased crunching on the gravel lane. She scanned the fields and old woods beyond the ancient but preserved farmhouse. "It's so unearthly."
Curt followed. The song of birds, which had been so noticeable before, seemed strangely muted. The land itself was an alien, faintly greenish hue, a color repulsive to more than just the eyes.
"It must be something in this particular soil," said Curt, "something that gives it that color and produces such wonderful crops. I'll have to remember to ask Dell about it."
"You want Dr. Dell?"
They whirled at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Louise ut tered a startled cry.
The gaunt figure behind them coughed asthmatically and pointed with an arm that seemed composed only of bones and brownish skin, so thin as to be almost translucent.
"Yes," said Curt shakenly. "We're friends of his."
"Dell's in back. I'll tell him you're here."
The figure shambled away and Louise shook herself as if to rid her mind of the vision. "If our grandchildren ever ask about zombies, I can tell them. Who in the world do you suppose he is?"
"Hired man, I suppose. Sounds as if he should be in a lung sanatarium. Funny that Dell would keep him around in that condition."
From somewhere behind the house came the sound of a truck engine. Curt took Louise's arm and led her around the trim, graveled path.
The old farmhouse had been very carefully renovated. Everywhere was evidence of exqusite care, yet the cumulative atmosphere remained uninviting, almost oppressive. Curt told himself it was the utter silence, made even more tense by the lonely chugging of the engine in back, and the incredible harsh color of the soil beneath their feet.
ROUNDING the corner, they came in sight of a massive tank truck. From it a hose led to an underground storage tank and pulsed slowly under the force of the liquid gushing through it. No one was in sight.
"What could that be for?" asked Louise.
"You've got me. Could be gasoline, but Dell hasn't any reason for storing that much here."
They advanced slowly and amazement crept over Curt as he comprehended the massiveness of the machine. The tank was of elliptical cross section, over ten
feet on its major axis. Six double wheels supported the rear; even the front ones were double. In spite of such wide weight distribution, the tires were pressing down the utterly dry ground to a depth of an inch or more.
'They must haul liquid lead in that thing," said Curt.
"It's getting cool. I wish Dell would show up." Louise glanced out over the twenty-acre expanse of truck farm. Thick rows of robust plants covered the area. Tomatoes, carrots, beets, lettuce, and other vegetables — a hundred or so fruit trees were at the far end. Between them ran the road over which the massive truck had apparently entered the farm from the rear.
A heavy step sounded abruptly and Dell's shaggy head appeared from around the end of the truck. His face lighted with pleasure.
"Curt, my boy! And Louise! I thought you weren't going to show up at all."
Curt's hand was almost lost in Dell's enormous grip, but it wasn't because of that that his grip was passive. It was his shocked reaction to Dell's haggard appearance. The fierce eyes looked merely old and
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