"--on the strength of reports now in, it appears the enemy bungled badly. Instead of crippling the nation, they succeeded only in alerting it. The bombs--at this time there appear to have been five of them dropped--formed a straight north-south line across western United States. One detonated close to the Idaho-Utah line. The other four were placed at almost equi-distant points to the south--the fifth bomb, according to first reports, exploding in a Mexican desert. We have been informed that Calas, Utah, a town of nine hundred persons, has been completely annihilated. For further reports, keep tuned to this station." [Illustration: _The fifth "one" exploded in the Mexican desert._] A dance band cut in. Jim got up from his chair. "They certainly did bungle," he said. "Imagine wasting four atom bombs like that." Myra got up also. "Would you like some coffee?" "That'd be a good idea. I don't feel like going back to bed. I want to listen for more reports." But there were no more reports. An hour passed. Another and another. Jim spun the dials and got either silence or the cheerful blatherings of some inane disc jockey who prattled on as though nothing had happened. Finally Jim snapped the set off. "Censorship," he said. "Now we're going to see what it's really like." In the morning they gathered again in groups--the villagers in this little community of five hundred, and discussed the shape of things to come, as they visualized them. "It'll take a little time to get into action," old Sam Bennett said. "Even expecting it, and with how fast things move these days--it'll take time." "If they invade us--come down from the north--you think the government will let us know they're coming?" "You can't tell. Censorship is a funny thing. In the last war, we knew more about what was going on in Europe than the people that lived there." At that moment, old Mrs. Kendal fainted dead away and had to be carried home. Three men carried her and Tom Edwards was one of them. "Kind of heavy, ain't she?" Tom said. "I never thought Mary weighed much more than a hundred." That night the village shook. In his home, Jim staggered against the wall. Myra fell to the floor. There were two tremors--the second worse than the first. Then things steadied away, and he helped Myra to her feet. "But there wasn't any noise," Myra whispered. The whisper was loud in the silence. "That was an earthquake," Jim said. "Nothing to worry about. Might be one of the bomb's after effects." The quake did no great damage in the village, but it possibly contributed to old Mrs. Kendal's death. She passed on an hour later. "Poor old lady," a neighbor told Myra. "She was plain weary. That was what she said just before she closed her eyes. 'Hazel' she said, 'I'm just plumb tuckered.'" The neighbor wiped her face with her apron and turned toward home. "Think I'll lie down for a spell. I'm tuckered myself. Can't take things like I used to." * * * * *