Creature

Blake gri

Sharon gazed sharply at her husband. There was a look about him that told her all this wasn't a surprise to him. "You knew what it was like?" she asked.

"I saw a movie of it last week." He chuckled softly. "I think John Ripley was afraid I was going to change my mind, so he showed me some tapes. But I have to say, the place is even prettier than I thought it would be."

"It looks like pictures of where everyone's grandma is supposed to live," Kelly piped from the backseat. "Except no one's does. Anyway, no one I know. Everyone's grandparents live in condos."

"Where's our house?" Mark asked. He'd finally put his books aside and was gazing out the window with the same wonder as the rest of the family.

"Telluride Drive," Blake replied. "Two forty South." The road had narrowed sharply, and two blocks farther along he turned left, drove two more blocks, then made a right. The moving van was pulled up in front of a medium-sized Victorian house halfway along the block. Already, some of the Ta

It was painted a pale green, with its trim done in a tone several shades darker, set off here and there by touches of an orange-rust color. A wide porch spread across the front of the house, curving gracefully around the turret that rose up from the southeast corner. There were small bay windows jutting out from the sides of the house, and on the second floor all the windows were framed by shutters. The roof rose in a steep pitch, the angles of which were softened with delicate latticework, and the roof itself appeared to be made of slate. The house was surrounded by tall aspens, whose narrow height complemented its design, and though the style of architecture had seen its most glorious days at least a hundred years before, Sharon could tell at a glance that the house itself was no more than five years old. She gazed at it in silence for several long minutes, taking in every detail. When at last she turned to Blake, a smile was playing around her lips.

"When I saw something like this in San Marcos last year, I thought it was so cute it would make me nauseated," she said. Then she shrugged helplessly and her smile spread. "But here… well, don't ask me what it is, but it seems just perfect."

With Kelly ru

Upstairs, the turret contained a small sitting room for the master suite, plus three other bedrooms and two bathrooms. There were two fireplaces downstairs and another in the master bedroom. And although the house had seemed somewhat fussy and cluttered from the outside, inside, the rooms were bright and airy, and larger than Sharon would have thought possible. By the time they had finished inspecting the house and returned to the front porch, all her misgivings about the move had faded. She put her arms around Blake and squeezed him hard. "I love it," she said. "The town's beautiful, and the house is perfect. How long will we be here?"

Blake shrugged. "At least a couple of years," he said. "Maybe five or six." Then his eyes flicked away from Sharon and a slight frown creased his brow. She turned to see Mark pulling the cage of rabbits out of the back of the station wagon.

As if feeling his parents' eyes on him, he turned and gri

Sharon gazed up at her husband, her eyes reflecting her puzzlement. "I thought you didn't want him to bring the rabbits."

"I didn't," he said. "Let's go take a look."

They followed Mark down the driveway and found him carefully transferring the rabbits from the cage into a perfectly constructed rabbit hutch that, quite obviously, had been finished only a day or two before their arrival.Chivas, his right forepaw quivering two inches above the ground, his tail held straight out, was gazing at the rabbits steadily, almost as if he were hoping one of them would escape so he could have the fun of capturing it and returning it to the hutch.

"I'll be damned," Blake breathed. "I never even mentioned the rabbits to anyone. How'd they know?" His expression cleared as the answer came to him. ''Jerry," he said. "Of course! Jerry remembered. He never forgets anything." He reached out a hand and tousled his son's curly mop of dark brown hair. "Or did you write to Robb and remind him?" he asked.

Mark glanced up from the hutch, the last of the rabbits still held gently in his hands. "Not me," he said. "I wasn't even sure you'd let me bring them till the last minute." Then his own brows creased in a frown that was almost a perfect replication of his father's. "WherearetheHarrises?" he asked. "Weren't they going to be here to meet us?"

"For that matter," Sharon added, "whereiseverybody?"

Blake looked curiously at his wife and for a moment wondered what she was talking about. Then he knew.

As they'd come into Silverdale and driven through the streets to their house, they hadn't seen another car, or another person.

It was, he realized, as if they'd come into a ghost town.

Elaine Harris sat in the grandstand of the Silverdale High School stadium, her husband on one side, her fifteen-year-old daughter Linda on the other. Below the stands, sitting on the bench while the offensive team took the field, was her son Robb. With only two more minutes left to play, and the Silverdale Wolverines wi

Jerry shook his head, his eyes never leaving the field. "They might not even get here till after di

"Well, even in Silverdale that doesn't quite make you the mayor," Elaine observed dryly, though she kept her voice low enough so no one but Jerry would hear. She was aware that his job might just as well have made him the mayor, since practically everyone in town was dependent onTarrenTech in one way or another. If they didn't work directly for the company, most of them provided services for those who did. And besides, even if he weren't head of the R amp;D Division, he still might as well be thought of as Silverdale's mayor since there wasn't a soul in town who didn't like her husband.

With a sigh she admitted to herself that he was right-the least they could do was stay till the end of the game. Resisting her impulse to glance at her watch once again, she shifted her slightly overweight body into a more comfortable position on the hard bench and turned her attention to the field, where the Wolverines, in possession of the ball, were poised on their own thirty-yard line. And knowing the team as well as she did, she decided it might just be worth watching. Phil Collins always liked his boys to keep up their drive till the final seconds ran out. It wouldn't surprise her at all if the team scored yet again before it was all over.