"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 sanitarium. 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 exquisite 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 tired now. The ageless, leathery hide of Dell's face seemed to have collapsed before some overpowering decay, its bronze smoothness shattered by deep lines that were like tool marks of pain. Curt spoke in a subdued voice. "It's hard to get away from Detrick. Always one more experiment to try--" "--And the brass riding you as if they expected you to win another war for them tomorrow afternoon," said Dell. "I remember." "We wondered about this truck," Louise commented brightly, trying to change the subject. "We finally gave up on it."