crucifix.

"My mother give it to me a long time ago."

"That's probably the only thing that could have saved you. From what I read, they can't stand a cross. And silver's got something to do with it." Jerry reached into his own pocket. "Feel this."

Carver's rough hand fumbled over the object.

"Made it this evening. Took a cold chisel and hammer to an old silver tray. Not fancy, but it was all I had."

"You done that, before I came and told you about Ed?"

Jerry nodded grimly. "I'm convinced we're up against something terrible. And believe me, Mike, I'm scared."

The shadows drew closer, thicker still. They seemed charged with menace.

With a catch in his voice, Jerry said, "Maybe now's the time to try it."

Carver's head jerked around.

"I mean smash Merklos and his tribe for good."

"How?"

"With fire, and the silver crosses."

After a long pause, Carver said, "What about Ed?"

"We'll get to your cabin. We're not far from the first farm. We can go right up the valley. If it works."

"And if it don't?"

"We might end up like Ed."

Carver turned and spat out the window. "I don't want to, but I will."

They got out of the car, into the humming darkness. They took gunny sacks and rags from the trunk compartment and soaked them in oil from the crankcase. They wired a bundle on the extension handle of the jack, and another on the radio aerial rod which Jerry unscrewed.

They tried to start the car once more, without success. So they turned off the lights and left it. With one torch burning, they started up the road for the first gate.

Dark Valley's shadowy legions closed in. There was a rustling and a whispering all around them. There were shiny glints where none ought to be. There was an overwhelming feeling that something frightful waited—just beyond the edge of darkness.

"The gate," Carver said hoarsely.

Jerry unclenched his jaws and lit the second torch. The flare-up reflected from the blank windows ahead.

"What about the wimmen? What about the kids?"

Jerry spoke jerkily, his eyes on the house. "There aren't any kids. What we saw was something else. The women are the same as the men, the same as the thing that killed Ed. Don't worry about them. Hold the cross in front of you, and for God's sake hang onto it!"

The darkness swelled like a living thing. It swayed and clutched at the torches. Somewhere a high whining began, like a keening wind.

There were sudden sounds from the house—bangings and scramblings. Carver faltered.

"On!" Jerry said savagely, and began to run. He touched his home-made crucifix to the wood of the porch, and with the other hand brought the torch down. Blue sparks jumped out at him. The dry wood hissed and blazed up furiously.

A frightful scream rang out. There was the tinkle of breaking glass. Formless figures thudded to the ground and scuttled away on all fours, headed up the valley.

Within minutes the farmhouse was a mass of roaring flame. Jerry backed away from it. He saw Carver outlined against the glowing barn, which he had fired. They came together and hurried back to the road. There they stopped to watch the pillar of flame and smoke, boiling upward.

"It worked," Carver said.

Jerry nodded. "We can't kill them. But we can drive them out."

"Wimmen and kids," Carver said bitterly. "Did you see them things that came out?"

"Yes." Jerry was drenched in sweat and the torch trembled in his hand. "Let's get on to the next one, Mike."

They went on to the neighboring farm, and to the one after that, while the shadows pulsed in an unholy turmoil. The night swarmed with malignant invisible forces, that tried to blow the flame from their torches, that flayed them with the naked sword of fear. There were hideous shapes, half-seen. There were waves of terror like a physical shock. There were puffs of ordure, so rank they gagged.

But they plodded through it, faces