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THE GAS STATION was dark. Everything was dark.
Zil looked up at that sky. Stars shone. Amazingly bright and sharp. Black night, brilliant, eye-piercing white stars.
Zil was no poet, but he could understand why people got sort of mesmerized by stars. Lots of great, important people must have looked up at the stars when they were on the edge, getting ready to do the things that would mark them forever as great.
Too bad these weren’t real stars.
Hank appeared, like a ghost. He was with Antoine. Zil saw others in the darkness beside the highway, already gathered. Milling together, scared, nervous, most ready to run like rabbits probably.
“Leader,” Hank said in an intense whisper.
“Hank,” Zil answered, his voice reassuringly calm.
“The Human Crew awaits your orders.”
A murmur of many voices. Scared sheep bleating together, trying to keep their courage up.
Lance was there. “I checked it out. Four of Edilio’s soldiers. Two of them asleep. No freaks, as far as I could see.”
“Good,” Zil said. “If we move fast and get the element of surprise I doubt we’ll even have to hurt anyone.”
“Don’t count on it,” Hank said.
“Whatever happens, it’s meant to be,” Turk said.
“Fate.”
Zil swallowed hard. If he showed any weakness it would be over. “This is the beginning of the end for the freaks,” he said. “Tonight we take Perdido Beach back for humans.”
“You heard the Leader,” Turk said.
“Let’s go,” Hank said. He had a shotgun as big as he was hanging on his shoulder. He slipped it off and ostentatiously clicked the safety to “off.”
And then, they were on the move. Walking fast. Zil in the lead with Hank on one side and Lance on the other and Antoine waddling along with Turk in the second row.
No one spotted them as they emerged up onto the highway. Or as they marched in quick-step past the battered old sign showing gas prices.
Past the first pump before a voice cried out, “Hey!”
They kept moving, breaking now into an exhilarating run.
“Hey! Hey!” the voice cried again.
A boy, Zil didn’t know his name, was yelling and then a second voice was shouting, “What’s happening?”
BLAM!
The sound was deafening. A dagger of yellow fire from the blast.
Hank’s shotgun.
The first boy fell back hard.
Zil almost cried out. Almost yelled “Stop.” Almost said “You don’t need to…”
But it was too late for that. Too late.
The second soldier raised his own gun, but hesitated. Hank did not.
