“I hit—­I hit the generator,” panted Lockley.  “I must have!  Else they’d swing a beam on us!”

He stopped.  Here they were in a district where many large homes pooled their lawns in block-long stretches of soft green.  The street lights cast arbitrary patches of brightness against the houses, but their windows were blank and dark.  This street, like most in this small town, was lined with trees on either side.  There were the fragrances of flowers and grass.

“We aren’t safe now,” said Lockley, “but I just found out there may not be any safety anywhere.”

Jill’s teeth chattered.

“What will we do?  What was that machinery?  I felt—­frightened because it wasn’t what he said was back there.  So I told you.  But what was it?”.

“At a guess,” said Lockley, “a terror beam generator.  The invaders must have human friends.  To us they’re spies.  They’re cooperating with the monsters.  Apparently they’re even trusted with terror beam projectors.”

He stood still, thinking, while in the distance the trailer-truck ground and rumbled about the streets.  It was not a very promising method for finding two fugitives.  They could hide if it turned onto a street they used.  It could not continue the search indefinitely.  The most likely final course would be to leave some of the unknown number of men in its trailer to search the town on foot.  Even that might not be successful.  But it wouldn’t be a good idea for Lockley and Jill to remain here, either.

“We look for two-car garages,” said Lockley.  “It’s not a good chance, but it’s all we’ve got. If somebody had two cars, they might have left one behind when they evacuated.  I can jump an ignition switch if necessary.  Meanwhile we’ll be moving out of town, which is a good idea even if we do it on foot!”

They ceased to use the streets with their dramatic contrast of vivid lights with total shadows.  They moved behind a row of what would be considered mansions in Serena, Colorado.  Sometimes they stumbled over flower beds, and once there was a hose over which Jill tripped, and once Lockley barked his shin on a garden wheelbarrow.  Most of the garages were empty or contained only tools and garden equipment.

Then something made Lockley look up.  A slender, truss-braced, mastlike tower rose skyward.  It began on the lawn of a house with wide porches.  There was a two-car garage with one wide door open.

“A radio ham,” said Lockley.  “I wonder—­”

But he looked first in the garage.  There was a car.  It looked all right.  He climbed in and opened the door.  The dome light came on.  The key was still in the ignition.  He turned it and the gauge showed that the gas tank was three-quarters full.  This was unbelievable good fortune.

“They probably intended to use this and then changed their minds,” said Lockley.  “I’ll get the door open and attempt a little burglary.  Just one burglary with a prayer that he used a storage battery for his power!”