RUN, LITTLE MONSTER! By Chester S. Geier Fran had heard about the monsters men hunted down and killed. But she had never seen one--until the night that Sammy looked at her and screamed.... [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy January 1952 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The girl ran like the hunted thing she was, her bare feet flashing over the lush spring grass. She sobbed with the effort of breathing, and her slight, immature body trembled with exhaustion beneath her ragged dress. Fear was a wild glitter in her eyes as she stared about her in search of refuge. The two boys came racing in pursuit, yelling threats between labored snatches of breath. "Stop, Fran!" Davey Becker panted. "You can't get away! We'll get you!" A thread of saliva stretched from his pendulous lower lip, soaking into the front of his tattered shirt. He was a hulking figure with dull eyes set deep under a low forehead. Sammy Becker was two years older than his brother, smaller and slimmer yet making up in cunning and a shrewish driving force what he lacked in bulk. At eighteen he was the acknowledged leader of the pair, an oddly young-old figure with wizened features and pale eyes that gleamed with sadistic urges. "Stop!" he screeched. "You better stop, you crazy orphan! You'll be sorry!" She knew better than to stop. Frequent torment at the hands of Sammy and Davey told her she could expect no mercy after having led them on this long chase. In despair she realized it had been a serious mistake to wander away from the house. Little enough protection was to be expected of Big Luke Becker, but for the most part he didn't allow his sons to bedevil her while the endless daily round of household chores remained to be done. Briefly and poignantly she wished she had a father of her own--a real father to comfort her and keep her from harm. She had never known what her father was like. Vaguely she remembered having heard that he had died in the war. Her mother had told her that once, a long time ago--but even her mother was only a dim memory. A lot of people seemed to have died in the war--millions of them. She could not understand how there could ever have been that many people, for there did not seem to be many at all in the world she knew. Darting a glance behind her, she saw Sammy and Davey were gaining. Frantically she searched the grassy field again, bright and still under the afternoon sun. * * * * * There seemed no place at all where she could hide. And she had to hide. A stabbing pain in her chest warned her she couldn't keep up her flight.