Officers Howard and Wendover stayed, and although the events of the night were horrific, at least one good thing came of it: Wendoever finally shut up.

They agreed to run if the creatures showed up in their area, or anywhere close to them. Wendover had said, "We can't do anything to them anyway and I don't see how us being ripped apart and eaten would serve anyone's best interests, least of all our own." Howard had agreed.

They broke up a couple of parties, even though neither were close to a canal, and sent everyone home with a warning to stay there. The people left, a few grumbling about how their rights were violated, others smug at having successfully hid their drugs from the cops, most just moving on to another house where the good times were still rolling.

As Howard and Wendover watched the last of the partiers drive away, the two policemen assigned to patrol the section of north Modesto where a revival was coming to a close were pulling onto Hwy 99, their vehicles packed with kids, a couple of suitcases, and a few other belongings their wives thought they couldn't live without.

Baskel was a jumble of emotions. The vision with Lawless at first left him speechless and in awe; he would never be the same because of it. But then the left side of his brain took over and he wondered if they had put some psycho-active drug in his drink when he wasn't looking. Was the vision just a drug-induced hallucination? He doubted it was possible to be under the influence of a hallucinogenic drug one minute, yet feel fine the next. And he was feeling fine, wasn't he?

He struggled with his doubts for a while, then thought about what he had seen. The creatures would dominate Earth in a relatively short period of time, decades, defeating the most powerful armies the world had ever seen. They would not only do it, they would make it look easy.

The memories of the vision left him in despair.

One thing was crystal clear: if the creatures left Modesto, you could pull the plug and drain the pool because the party would be over.

One thing was very unclear: if modern man with all his weaponry could not kill the monsters, how could one ordinary, unremarkable man like Daniel Lawless kill them?

But Lawless wasn't ordinary or common; he could see things no one else could see. But just seeing things wasn't enough, he would need some kind of special weapon, something he's kept hidden up his sleeve all this time. Baskel's imagination ran amok. Maybe Lawless could shoot laser rays out of his eyes or produce some kind of toxin or germ that will kill the creatures without poisoning the Earth. Perhaps he had the plans for a super weapon that could be constructed, something no one knew about. But was there time for that?

His mind reeled.

"So, tell me if I'm understanding this correctly: you're not really sure how you're supposed to kill the creatures?"

("That's correct.") Lawless's voice said in Baskel's head.

"How come I don't feel comforted by that?"

("The plan will unfold when his transformation is complete and the time is right.") Jensen's voice said.

"Let's just hope it happens before they sprout wings and fly away."

The creatures entered the Goldsworthy Lateral and swam northeast until it joined Lateral No. 7. From there they continued northeast to Lateral No. 6., then northwest until they detected the presence of a large number of prey close to the canal.

The adult creature did not feel the Assassin working his way into her mind.

("But how will I know what to do?") ("You are who you are, little one, because you know what to do. It is inside you, deeper than your feelings, deeper than your mind, in the part of you that was before and will be after. The you.") ("I don't know what that means.") ("You will when the time comes.") ("I'm afraid the Evil Species will know when I try to get in and will keep me out. I'm afraid I won't be able to kill it.") ("You are Assassin, little one, the greatest of our kind, save for the Leader. You must have faith in yourself.") ("Can't you be there to help me?") ("Not me, little one. Another will be there to help you see, and become.") ("Assassin, what do you see?") ("The Evil One is thinking of the dispersal. Planning. It's young are big and will be ready to evolve tomorrow night.") ("Go deeper into the Evil One's mind. What do you see?") ("I see it entering the space machine and being sent here. It is timid at first, not knowing what it will find on this planet. It soon learns that humans are identical to our kind, though not as docile.") ("Further back, Assassin. Look for the beginning. What do you see?") ("I see the Evil Species in the deep, where there is no light. Before. They cannot rise from the deep to hunt because they are too weak.") ("Good. What else do you see?") ("A strong one is spawned, a mutation. It is not weak like the rest and has no feelings for others of its kind. Its hunger cannot be satisfied so it kills and eats others of its kind. It is evil.") ("It is the first of the Evil Species. You must see and understand it and its spawn. What do you see?") ("It is alone, for it has killed all others of its kind. It spawns and its spawn are like it, they have its mutations. They spawn and their spawn spawn. Soon they are many and they devour all their prey. They sense prey living out of the water but their bodies are not suited for movement on dry land so they evolve. They rise out of the sea to hunt our kind.") The Facilitator led the Assassin through the history of the Evil Species, helping him remember what they were and what they did to their kind. She led him to see how the Evil One entered the Space Machine made for travel to the planet called Earth, a planet their kind had visited many hundreds of times. She made sure he knew the Evil One well.

Then she took him to the place where he would see who he was.

The little one, a girl, lay on the reclined chair and tried to obey her Instructor.

("Why can't I see? It would be so much easier if I could see.") The Instructor held the little one's hand and stroked her hair, calming her.

("It is not for you to see, little one. That is not your gift. It is for the Seer to see.") ("But I'm the one who knows where to go and what to do, let me do it. Why does he get to do it?") ("You have not the strength nor the power to do what the Assassin can do. You must guide and protect.") The Instructor knew the little one did not understand what an Assassin did, but there wasn't sufficient time to teach her. She must be shown.

("Look. See what the Assassin must do to kill the Evil One.") The little one looked, and saw. As the light of understanding illuminated her mind, she cried out in horror for the terrible thing the Assassin would do. Surely none of their kind could be asked to do such a thing. Then, when the vision closed, she cried for the Assassin and called him Great One.

("Instructor, teach me what I must do to help the Great One.") The Instructor smiled and said, ("You must be on the outside when the Assassin is on the inside. You must guide him, for he cannot see when he is on the inside.") ("Show me how.") The Instructor showed her.

When the little one knew and understood, she said, ("This is all I must do?") The Instructor paused.

("You have learned your lessons well, little one. You will be the Facilitator your Assassin needs. You have but one final lesson to learn.") ("Your voice is sad, Instructor. Is it a hard thing I must do?") A tear rolled down the Instructor's face.

("Look.") The little one looked.

Later, she cried for herself.

Something nagged at Officer Howard.

"Hey," he said to Wendover. "Help me out here. I've got this feeling we're forgetting something. Any idea what it might be?"

"I'll tell you what I forgot, I forgot why I'm still here when I should be half a state away," Wendover said.

The strain of waiting, of expecting a monster to jump out at him from behind a bush and tear him to pieces, had finally cracked Wendover's resolve. His partner didn't know it, but the quiet Wendover was not him rising to the occasion and being a man. It was a Wendover whose mind was rocked by terror he never expected to face in all his life; the quiet Wendover was a coward in the making, and now it was made.

"We already had this talk. We don't have to go back through it again, do we?"

"Maybe. Or maybe you should just drop me off at my place. You can tell them I forced you, pulled a gun. You can tell them whatever you want, I don't give a shit."

"Come on, man. We can make it until daylight. They go away when the sun comes up."

"What about tomorrow night, and the night after that? What then? They'll send us back out to be slaughtered whenever those rejects from a nightmare decide they want a snack. We're sitting ducks out here, Howard. You know that as well as I do. What specifically are we doing? Protecting people?" He snorted. "Hey, I know. Since guns don't stop them, lets mace them! No one's tried that yet, right?"

He continued, his mind unraveling, "You spray one in the eyes, make sure you get all three eyes now, and I'll cuff it. Maybe I'll rap it with my nightstick first, tell it to hold still and stop biting everyone, be a good monster."

"I know there's not much we can do -" Howard started to say.

"No. There's nothing we can do! There's no 'not much,' there's nothing! Except run, which is precisely what I've decided to do. You can drop me off at my apartment, now."

"Come on, man. You don't mean that."

He looked at Wendover and saw that he did; his pistol was drawn and pointed his way.

"I don't have anything against you, Howard, so let's just make this easy for both of us. I'm not hanging around to be some monster's next meal. I'm serious. Drop me off."

"You'll feel like an asshole when this blows over."

"Maybe I will and maybe I won't, but right now I don't give a shit. Drop me off."

Howard drove to Wendover's apartment in silence, disappointed but not angry.

Wendover got out of the car and said to Howard. "Sure you don't want to come with me?"

"Nah. Think I'll stick it out. My old man would kick my ass if he ever found out I ran."

Wendover nodded. "Sorry about the gun. I left the safety on."

"Don't worry about it. Good luck."

"Save your luck for yourself, you're the who's going to need it."

Howard picked up his radio as he pulled away from the curb. He doubted anyone at headquarters would care about Wendover's desertion, but he thought he should call it in anyway.

He was about to press the talk button when something caught his eye. Several neighborhood churches had marquee signs in front of their property with messages they changed every week. He had taken to noticing the signs, being amused by the ten-words-or-less sermons they delivered.

He was staring at one now. It said "Let His Living Waters Revive Your Soul."

The word "Revive" jumped out at him and he stomped on the brakes.

The revival! He suddenly remembered how close the revival tent had been to a canal and figured that's what must have been bothering him. Surely whomever patrolled north Modesto now would have busted it up and sent everyone home.

He radioed headquarters and asked.

"The two officers assigned to that sector haven't responded to radio contact for over an hour," the person at the other end said.

"Was someone else sent to replace them?"

"No, we're stretched too thin. They're not the only ones not answering their radio." The voice sounded stressed.

"There was a revival going on in that area earlier in the evening, hundreds of people in a big white tent. Did anyone radio in and say they broke it up?"

"Not to my knowledge, and I should know. I've been here all night."

Shit.

Then he remembered Wendover. "Wendover's awol, just had me drop him off at his place and said he was leaving town."

"Roger that. What are your plans, Officer Howard?"

"I'm heading north. I can't image the revival's still going but I gotta be sure."

"Let us know."

"Out," Howard put the radio down and stomped on the gas.

What time was it? Surely the revival was over by now. How could it have gone this late?

He pictured five hundred stuffed into a big tent, conveniently situated next to a canal. He fed the big engine more gas.

She felt the strong psychic emanations of many prey wash over her. The young could feel it too and quickened their pace, moving through the cold water at great speed. She quickened her pace as well; keeping ahead of the young ones had become difficult.

She leapt out of the waterway, ready to attack. The young ones slid out behind her, following her lead.

The prey were hiding in a large brightly-lit structure the adult creature sensed could be easily breached. With so many prey so close, all seven creatures grew anxious, eager to kill and feed. They did not attack, however; the lights inside the structure were too bright.

She made a vibration and they split up, circling the tent, searching for a weakness. Minutes later, a young one made a vibration that summoned the others. They watched it slide under the side of the structure into a space hidden from the bright lights, and followed.

They were patient, knowing the prey will eventually leave the structure and be vulnerable to attack. The feasting will be rich and plentiful, for there were many prey here.

("What do you see?") ("Darkness. The prey is keeping us from them with their bright lights, but we can wait.") ("Are your young ones with you?") ("Yes. We are all here. We will have a great feast, we will gorge ourselves on the prey.") ("Who are you?") ("I am the one chosen to come to this planet so our species will live.") The Facilitator knew the Assassin had almost become one with the Evil One.

Baskel sat on Jensen's couch, watching and listening.

"Good luck, buddy," he said to Lawless, and Jensen, he supposed.

They didn't seem to hear him. They had business to attend to, and, now that Lawless was talking like he was the monster instead of just looking through its eyes, Baskel knew the real show was about to begin.

He wondered if he could help.

("Observe well.") Jensen's voice said inside his head.

("Observe and remember. Then, when the Evil Species is gone forever from your planet, tell the story of the Assassin. See that your kind never forgets what he will do for them.")

Chapter 19.

Howard ran with his emergency lights on and his siren blaring, blowing by the punks in their lowered Hondas and Acuras.

As he approached the church, his heart skipped when he saw a full parking lot and the tent glowing in back, lighting up the night.

He sped through the parking lot and into the courtyard, braking hard thirty feet from the tent, took a deep breath and jumped out, reached back in and grabbed his flashlight.

His original plan was to run into the tent and order everyone out. But now that he was here he realized the sight of cop yelling his head off would likely start a panic; images of kids and old people being knocked to the ground and stomped to death passed through his mind. He needed to get the pastor's cooperation.

Halfway to the tent, he was struck by a thought: the monsters hated bright light and would keep their distance as long as the tent stayed lit. All he needed to do was make sure the lights stayed on until everyone had left.

He relaxed. Tonight would be different than the night before on the canal; he would get everyone out of the tent and safely on their way, without a bloodbath.

Then, two feet from the entrance, the lights inside the tent went out and it was suddenly very dark.

All but one light went out on cue, at the end of Pastor Keith's prayer; a small spotlight pointed to the exact spot he was kneeling. The congregation's little ones encircled him and he was on his mark, looking up, his neck stiff from holding his head in one position too long. The narrow beam of light struck his face and he appeared to glow; he could not have hoped for a more striking effect.

The congregation gasped.

Four church helpers dressed in white walked onto the stage, each carrying one lit and several unlit candles. Each took their lit candle, ignited the wick of an unlit candle, and handed it to a child. They continued lighting and handing out candles, working their way around and through the circles of children.

Giving small children lit candles was chancy, but the effect would be mesmerizing and well worth the risk if he could pull it off. He mentally crossed his fingers. The spotlight above his head went out when the last child received his candle.

Then, again on cue, other church helpers began passing out collection plates, each fitted with a candle. Pastor Keith did not expect to hear the rude clanking of metal coins in the collection plates tonight.

He gave the helpers a minute to distribute the plates, then rose from his kneeling position. His knees and ankles cracked and popped and he could hardly turn his head, but he felt good.

He lifted his arms and said, with a loud voice, "Behold, your little ones have been blessed. Pray that God will keep them from the evil one."