A Crying Shame (63 page)

Now, Jon!”

He walked into the kitchen, silently moving to the window. There, he studied the profile of one of the Links in the soft moonlight. Strange moonlight, he thought. Blood-red.

The Link was poised on the back porch.

The head of the Link was huge, with tufted pointed ears and small yellow eyes. Where had he seen similar eyes? He couldn't remember.

The Link had massive shoulders and arms. Very strong; Jon put that into his mental filing system. Don't let them get their hands . . . paws on you. The jaw was pure animal, but like nothing Jon had ever encountered in the jungles of either Africa or South America. Then he altered his opinion: it was not pure animal; it was a mixture of human and ape. But the nose was strangely small, humanlike.

Three more generations, Jon thought, and they'll be human—or very close to it. Probably close enough to pass.

He smiled.

The Link turned in the moonlight, as if sensing Jon's thought waves. Human and human beast studied one another through the small space Jon had left between the boards he had nailed the previous afternoon. Jon reached out and boldly, arrogantly tapped the glass. The Link screamed, spraying the window with saliva, then it smashed the glass with a huge balled fist. Jon lifted the M-10 and pulled the trigger, watching as the force of the 45-caliber slugs lifted the Link off its feet, its face spurting blood under the hot slash of lead.

In the den, Linda screamed as her pent-up emotions reached a level she could no longer contain. Her screaming reverberated through the house. Jon turned on the floodlights, watching as several Links raced across the lawn, over the fields, and toward the darkness and safety of the Crying Swamp.

He laughed.

Something slammed into his shoulder, a glancing blow. He grunted in quick pain, spun into a crouch, the M-10 lifting, finger on the trigger. He lowered the barrel. Linda had hit him with the over/under.

You crazy bastard!” she squalled at him, her eyes wild with rage and fear, her long dark hair flying about her face.
You had the fucking lights off! I thought you said you'd leave them on at night.” She screamed and cursed him, profanity overriding breeding and education. Using pure brute strength, Jon took the shotgun from her, then let the woman get it all out of her system.
I saw you tap on the window!” she yelled.
You were smiling. Then I heard you
laugh!
You're
craxy!”

I wanted to see them up close . . . alive,” Jon calmed her. Or attempted to.
That's why I left the lights off.”

The dead Link on the back porch trembled as its nervous system finally realized its body was dead. It slipped off the porch, landing on the ground with a dull thump!

Oh, God!” Linda said, as long-overdue tears began running down her face.

Jon put his arms around her and felt her at first stiffen in protest, then relax against the warm bulk of him. He held her loosely, letting her weep, knowing she was weeping not only from her fear, but from emotions held back for too long a time. She was a strong person, always in control, but even strong people could contain emotions for only so long. And it was no sin to cry. Contrary to the beliefs of some nitwit parents, who confuse the minds of their children, it is not at all unmanly to weep.

Jon kept one eye on the window. The odor from the dead Link was awful.

The grounds of the now brightly lighted estate were empty of Links.

After only a moment, Linda pulled away from him and, in an unladylike manner, wiped her nose on the sleeve of her shirt.
Sorry about that,” she said, slipping back into her stiff-upper-lip facade.
I'm quite all right now.”

I rather enjoyed it.” Jon smiled. He patted her on the butt and felt her indignation at his gesture rise to the surface.