The man in the long white duster turned his head slightly. “Allen went for help,” he repeated, in a flat, desperate whisper. “Allen went down toward the creek for help.”

“But who is he?” asked Neil. “Who is he?”

“They’re all around us,” said the man. “They’re all around us and they won’t take prisoners. For God’s sake, Allen. Help us, Allen.”

Susan was running toward them. Neil turned, and he could see her bright apron in the dull morning sunlight. He turned back again, and in a curious way the man in the long white duster was fading. He seemed to be retreating from Neil, shrinking, yet at the same time vanishing into the air. In a few seconds, he had disappeared.

Susan reached the fence, panting for breath. Neil walked back toward her silently, and took her hands across the split-log fence.

She asked, “What are you doing here? What’s happening?”

Neil looked down at her. “Didn’t you see him?”

“Who?”

He turned, and pointed to the place where the man had been standing. “Didn’t you see the man in the white coat? He was right over there. I was talking to him.”

“You were talking to him? Where did he go?”

“He went—well, he just kind of went.”

Susan frowned. “Neil,” she said, “you’re sure you’re not—”

He stared at her. “Not what? Not nuts? Not ready for the funny farm?”

“Neil, you mustn’t think that I—”

“Susan, he was there!” Neil shouted. “He was right there, right there by that patch of grass! I talked to him!”

She let go of his hands. He stood by the fence and watched her as she walked back across the yard to the house, with her head lowered. She climbed up the steps to the veranda, went into the kitchen door, and closed it behind her. He banged his fist against the fence railing in frustration. Of all the damned, stupid, ridiculous things. He needed help and reassurance more than he ever had in his whole life, and everybody, including his wife, thought he was turning into a raving lunatic. He looked back at the grass where the man had been standing, and he felt confused, frightened, and helpless. Almost as helpless as the day that the jack had slipped, and Jim had reached out his hand toward him and begged for some miraculous salvation which Neil just didn’t have the power to give him.

Neil climbed over the fence and trudged back to the house. In the kitchen, Susan was sitting at the table scraping carrots. The tears were running down her cheeks into the salad.

Neil put his arm around her. He said, “Susan?”