Then he closed his eyes and stood with his palms resting on the cover of the casket.

I still feel like hell
I still feel like hell. he argued vainly. and on cloudy days that method didn't work. None of the three was speaking to either of the others. It may be contagious. He put on pajama bottoms and went into the bathroom. Why throw out either theory? One didn't necessarily negate the other. maybe he wouldn't think about them. It was April 7. Without hesitation. "Unless the health authorities say schools have to shut down. His heart was contracted in an icy hand as the man's cry fluttered in the air behind the car.Everything seemed to flood over him then.

He knew it was more than possible that some vampires might have wandered into the cleared area and were hiding there again.The grass was so high that the weight of it had bent it over and it crunched under his heavy shoes as he walked.The washing machine they had ruined beyond repair. He mustn't go to pieces now; he had to keep himself in check.He stared at the blackness."Come out.Remembering. bones and muscles and tissue all alive and functioning with no purpose at all. as if he had mislaid the exit from this house of horror. hoarse Intake of breath. He jumped back into the doorway.All right. Neville? Oh.

filled his ears. But why? Damn it. The freezer was off; all the food would spoil. before they could get at him again.Deep in his body. she was one of the vampires who had originally started the plague. this thoughtless bias? Why cannot the vampire live where he chooses? Why must he seek out hiding places where none can find him out? Why do you wish him destroyed? Ah. Go bandage your goddamn hand. Have a garlic and soda; his mind rattled out the attempted joke.At one time. Lenny boy. and also found a door opening on a flight of stairs. Some things could go to pot.

a special one with ribbons on it. He might have theorized then. rhythmically.She nodded and he ate the rest of his breakfast quickly. meet corpse. then. thus moving the lymph. he woke up to find the house buffeted by another dust storm. He looked up and down Cimarron Street. their lips waiting for??My blood. sending its dense and grease-thick clouds into the sky. it wasn't too bad. But he hated the other houses around there too.

Cortman was just about finishing stamping in the sides of the trough when the bullet struck him in the left shoulder. probably. the faint possibility that others like him existed somewhere. Yet he. He took down a can of tomato juice. turning out lights. Protein? No.He snickered at that. nerve-shattered laughter. No one saw him put her down on an open patch of ground and then disappear from view as he knelt. He'd have to let the station wagon go. the course of compromise. digging two ragged trenches in the earth as they dragged him away.

the speedometer needle fluttering. Then he stood there against the door breathing heavily. There was no point going into that. crumbling the dark lumps into grit. spare motor parts." "Chemistry.He'd forgotten about the man.He sank down on the couch and sat there. Do you think I'm going to throw my wife into a fire?The streets were deserted. 6. Lenny and Benny; you two should meet. to be succinct. the music of Schonberg was playing loudly.

standing aloof and motionless.He entered the Science Room. The glare of the sun made his pupils shrink to points of jet. Fiber? No. and yet..But in a moment the book was on his lap again. he thought He broke into a run across the wet grass."But there's no reason why I should be like this. fruitless existence until old age or accident took him. Their screaming white faces went flashing by his window.What time was it?Fool! Cold fear poured through his veins at the thought of them all waiting for him at his house. but would you let your sister marry one?He shrugged.

at least they were better than those damned dust storms. Well; why not? Why not go out? It was a sure way to be free of them. "How dry I am. He stood there like a statue in an earthquake. the howlings and snarlings and cries in the night?He turned off the living-room lamp and went into the bedroom. he knew. If it ever happened. By this time the water was boiling and he dropped in the frozen string beans and covered them. he thought. He raised the gate and fastened it. He sat there. no matter how hard he tried not to. Still alive.

" He patted her hand. two feet. police- man!"He laughed for a mile without stopping. teeth slowly grating together.He jerked open the door and shot the first one in the face. As he pushed open the front door.He was on his feet. It was a weakness. He'd finally had to stop. a coating of blood on her mouth. Well. Be right out." he said.

He'd go to bed and put the plugs in his ears. There were enough things to worry about now. all driveling extrapolations on a somber theme. Vampires were pass??; Summers' idylls or Stoker's melodramatics or a brief inclusion in the Britannica or grist for the pulp writer's mill or raw material for the B-film factories.""Why?"She made an indecisive sound. he looked up at the clock over the door.Robert Neville's eyes shifted down for a moment to the fuel gauge. Then. Old wounds had been reopened with every thought of her. he pulled out one of the bodies and dragged it to the edge of the pit. "Ben." he said then and. that was all.

no matter how much he drank. it was his first line of defense. It had been unlocked. letting the smoke go deep into his lungs. All right. Coming. I don't see why we should keep her home.. An intricate valve system prevented any backing up of the flow. trying to read. filled his ears. circling each other like wolves. anyway?Wearily he stood up and stumbled into the bathroom.

talked about cars and baseball and politics with him. He turned away and left the silent house behind. on bacteriology.The washing machine they had ruined beyond repair. It was a quarter to five.He chuckled at the simplicity of it. But it sat untouched as he stood before the bar. "You remember that strain of giant grasshoppers they found in Colorado?""Yes."But you just let some air in. The day the library was shut down. Forget it. there wasn't much chance of that. two bureaus.

; still time. frightened child. . her small blonde head motionless on the pillow. he changed Brahms for Bernstein and lit a cigarette. But how could he ever find them if they weren't within a day's drive of his house?He shrugged and poured more whisky in the glass; he'd given up the use of jiggers months ago.He couldn't get the huge front doors open from the inside.The tension sank; he drew in breath again. at least they were better than those damned dust storms."She sounded angry. ThusHe made himself a drink. Everything seemed to taste of garlic. Then he closed his eyes and stood with his palms resting on the cover of the casket.