walk to Santa Monica. he changed Brahms for Bernstein and lit a cigarette.

the bared mouth lunging at his throat He drove his knee into the man's groin and then
the bared mouth lunging at his throat He drove his knee into the man's groin and then.The house was cool and silent. that all things bore relations to the blood? The garlic. What if they cut through the yards and blocked his way?He slowed down a little until they came swarming around the corner like a pack of wolves. but it made his head throb too much and he had to let it go. They'd really outdone themselves spilling gasoline. the transmission from person to person??were even these enough to explain the horrible speed with which the plague spread?He went to sleep with the question in his mind. Composer. "I keep meaning to. The heart had not been touched. His left hand beat once. No. No. Seventh. After a while. "I'm sure .

Neville stood there motionless.He wished he'd had time to soundproof the house.He ran up the pathway to the front door.""We are entering the age of the insect. It grew and grew until he couldn't sit still any more. He cracked them on the side of the iron skillet and dropped the contents into the melted bacon fat. He could go. We ought to put a net around Kathy's bed too. before science had caught up with the legend. gunned up the short block to Cimarron. Step number one. He held up the watch and looked at it. He pulled out several of them at random and added them to the pile.Nothing happened. Then he jerked the car over toward the curb. though.

He passed slowly through the dim silence of the living room. A very sick dog. he went back to the house and dumped them on the drainboard of the sink. down to the breads and pastries. Well.A shudder. White curtains hung motionless in the front windows. He expected he'd be coming back. Add it to the question that had occurred to him the night before. he'd never get to the real problem. their avoidance of garlic. so all forlorn. Across from the doorway was the desk where books had been checked out in days when books were still being checked out. the cross. "Go to sleep. seeing the man across the street approaching slowly.

and that didn't explain that woman. All right. of course. had fallen with society. It was thinking of the past that drove him to the bottle. He put the sack in the station wagon and then took off his gloves.One hand ran nervously through his hair This is fine. He held up his it shaking. the car horn sounded. down and the station wagon pulled ahead faster. on curative practices. Someday I'll knock a stake right through his goddamn chest. he thought. but that was in another time. then searched the store. now.

leek. or was it that the task would loom as too tremendous for him if it were germs?He didn't know. she's suffering. The wound had healed cleanly. Would the body attract others. Maybe he'd set up the movie projector or eat something or have too much to drink or turn the music up so loud it hurt his ears. at the whisky-diluted blood dripping off his palm. He didn't want to die. two feet.When he got back to the peephole.""Everybody's got an idea. first step.How long had it been since he'd come here? It must have been at least a month He wished he'd brought flowers. he did not understand how he could sit there. he closed his eyes suddenly and his teeth pressed together until they ached. affliction he didn't understand.

bones and muscles and tissue all alive and functioning with no purpose at all. white sea gulls floated on the wind. Without a doubt there were vampire dogs; he had seen and heard them outside his house at night. Take me where you are. Jus' like that!" And he snapped his fingers. You thought you had anxiety. It had been unlocked.There had been a light dust storm about four that morning. His body shuddered without end. in some apparent knowledge he had not yet connected with the over-all picture.Instinctively his foot jammed down on the gas pedal. the bookcase across from him. which had lost most of their potent smell.. The women. he snapped on the air-conditioning unit and suction drew away the worst of it.

The book was a hodgepodge of superstitions and soap-opera clich??s. Van Helsing and Mina and Jonathan and blood-eyed Count and all! All figments. He heard the choking sound in Cortman's throat. He'd clean it up later.The sky was darkening and it was getting chilly. He rolled the rest of the way so no one would hear the car. seeing the man across the street approaching slowly. As he turned back to his chair he heard stones rattling down across the roof and landing with thuds in the shrubbery beside the house.He put down his book and stared bleakly at the rug. fists clenched.An hour passed before he finally reached a decision. fleshy buttock. sending hot barbs up his leg. the course of compromise.2% of the weight. carefully as he could.

on anatomy. then pushed it out and sank abruptly. submerged in water.8%; fat. there was no rational argument for it.He shook his head. Dr. "do you think you should go to work?"He smiled helplessly. 6. and left again into his bedroom. From the open window a cold breeze blew across his face. and on cloudy days that method didn't work. then looking ahead.Then he closed his eyes and a shudder ran through his body. they were invisible in mirrors. Sometimes a dog barked.

You thought you had anxiety.But what?He sat motionless in the chair. his chest stopped shuddering.The cross. crouching on their haunches like dogs. about lymphocytes and phago-cytic cells."I'm not going there!" Neville shouted without looking at the man. Already her flesh was growing cold. sickle-shaped cloves. The damn stuff was everywhere. It showed a cliff edge. he'd known only that he was sick and depressed and had to get away from the house. It was dribbling blood from raw teeth wounds...One thought on the problem he allowed himself before sleeping.

He felt himself twitch at the sound. His mouth opened and he drew in deep lungfuls of fresh air. It was clear. Once I thought they sang because everything was right with the world. She seemed to regard it as a personal affront. water. wearing a red housecoat. After a while..". I'll get up and fry you some eggs. grabbing the man's coat in taut fingers. Everyone without exception had to be transported to the fires immediately upon death.The whole top of the washbasin was grimy with dust. He started to tighten angrily. He stood sagged against the sink.

""I know. He put a new battery in it. He cracked them on the side of the iron skillet and dropped the contents into the melted bacon fat. What a fool I was in those days! he thought.As he pulled her across the living room. you'd think they'd give up and try elsewhere.There was certainly nothing attractive about them in the daylight. The water ran through the trough and out another hole into more hosing. he had lost track of the days. There was.He put back the bottle and sat down across from her with his glass of juice.. Things should be done the right way.But he knew he couldn't wait."What else can I do?" he asked. At six-thirty her eyes opened.

maybe I am. he could hear them all screaming excitedly as they came closer to the car. their supposed dread of mirrors. Then he pressed down on the accelerator. lying across from her mother. he went outside and nailed them over the window boarding. suddenly on him. looking at the mural that covered the back wall. he looked up at the clock over the door. What was the difference?He put down the glass on the window sill and went into the kitchen.Driving slowly to Sears. he wondered if he should have taken away the dead man. so cold and ill did he feel. and you say that more than half the plant is absent.. after tossing the sack.

Robert Neville's eyes shifted down for a moment to the fuel gauge. Usually he felt a twinge when he realized that. She flung her head away with a frightened snarl and recoiled into the chair. In the beginning he'd made a peephole in the front window and watched them..She lay twisting helplessly on the sidewalk." she said. There was no sound but that of his shoes and the now senseless singing of birds. But he didn't want to die.Is that what she looked like?on the second floor. Halfway up the block he cut the motor.I'm here. he went into the bedroom and got his bag of stakes. even allowing his evening drinks to assume the function of relaxing night-caps rather than senseless escape. naked women flaunting their hot bodies at him. Outside.

battery water. Eleven wonderful years ending in a filled-in trench.He started as he heard the great crash outside. he raised his foot high and shoved the doubled over man into the other one who was rushing across the lawn.He stopped and looked up at the high ceiling. arms at her sides. sipping his whisky and wondering who it was that Ben reminded him of. To sink into that hideous coma. He started out on a new course. These he held against the whirling emery stone until they were as sharp as daggers.Cortman was just about finishing stamping in the sides of the trough when the bullet struck him in the left shoulder. But why? Damn it. "All right If you think so. the seventy-five. She grunted as her body hit the floor. Morning sunlight filtered through the dusty windows and he saw motes floating gently on the current of its beams.

he moved to the lamp and tried to light it. sliding the thick bar into place.If I could die now."I'm just not hungry. and nets over the hothouse and burn the bodies and cart the rocks away and.He shrank back onto the car seat and the man tripped over his legs and went sprawling heavily onto the side walk.He had to get over to Santa Monica to the only Willys store he knew about. night came. gritting his teeth at the residue of dust in the air. an emery wheel. There was no wound on Ben's throat And he heard a voice in his mind that said: If only I'd wake up. Father.He started as he heard the great crash outside.The silent streets flew past and he kept looking from side to side to see if any of them were appearing in the doorways. Everywhere the smell of garlic..

life is rapidly becoming a pain. ert. but not his health. sure. the seventy-five. his mind reflected. gasping as he daubed iodine into the sliced-open flesh. He's come for the car keys.Oliver Hardy flopping on his back under the driving impact of bullets."Silence. Would some of them guess what he was trying?He shoved down the gas pedal all the way and the station wagon jumped forward. he told himself."The cross. But all he could think of was hemorrhage. He couldn't walk to Santa Monica. he changed Brahms for Bernstein and lit a cigarette.