Mark stopped abruptly, yanked on her hand, and turned to run. One of the Barry brothers stepped from the dining room into the kitchen, and another closed the door to the outside and stood behind them. The other three entered the kitchen silently and stared in disbelief at the boy.

Finally one of them spoke. "Ben's?"

Molly nodded. Her hand clutched Mark's in a grip that must have hurt him. He stood close to her and looked at the brothers fearfully.

"When?" the brother asked.

"Five years ago, in January."

The spokesman sighed heavily. "You'll have to come with us, Molly. The boy too."

She shook her head and felt weak with terror. "No! Leave us alone. We're not hurting anyone! Leave us alone!"

"It's the law," the brother said harshly. "You know it as well as we do."

"You promised!"

"The agreement we made didn't cover this." He took a step closer to her. Mark tore his hand free from her grasp and flew at the doctor.

"Leave my mother alone! Go away! Don't you hurt my mother!"

Someone caught Molly's arms and held her, and another of them caught Mark and lifted him as he kicked and lashed out furiously, screaming all the while.

"Don't hurt him!" Molly cried, and struggled to free herself. She hardly felt the pinprick of the injection. Dimly she heard one last scream of anguish from Mark, and then there was nothing.

Chapter 18

Molly blinked and shut her eyes against the glare of a silver frost that covered everything. She stood still and tried to remember where she was, who she was, anything. When she opened her eyes again, the blinding glare still dazzled her. She felt as if she had awakened after a long, nightmare-haunted dream that was becoming more and more dim as she tried to recapture it. Someone nudged her.

"You'll freeze out here," someone said close by. Molly turned to look at the woman, a stranger. "Come on, get inside," the woman said louder. Then she leaned forward and looked at Molly closely. "Oh, you're back, aren't you?"

She took Molly by the arm and guided her inside a warm building. Other women looked up idly and then bent down over their sewing again. Some of them were obviously pregnant. Some of them were dull-eyed, vacant-looking, doing nothing.

The woman helping Molly took her to a chair and stood by her side long enough to say, "Just sit still for a while. You'll start remembering in a little bit." Then she left and took her place at one of the machines and began stitching.

Molly looked at the floor and waited for memories to return, and for a long time there was nothing but the terror of nightmare remembered in emotions, not in details.