Everything was silent. The blinds swung against the window, the shape of the monster no longer behind them, but Richard could not hear the clatter. It was as if somebody had pressed a mute button on the world.

Panting, Richard turned to see Aialo-El standing before the door, which was still closed and locked. He would register this strange detail later. In the moment, it was simply a relief.

Her fist was leveled at the window.

"The Chorodonians," she said. She met Richard's eye, and then her gaze dropped to the floor. There, near Richard's foot, lay the communicator. "I am sorry. I should have thought—"

"You know these freaks?"

"Richard, I told you! Try to keep up!" cried Garth.

"What in the hell is going on here?" Richard looked from Aialo-El to the window and back again. "They were shooting at us!"

"Give me the communicator. That is how they have traced you. If I take it with me, they will have no reason—"

"Traced us? Are you serious?"

"Your friend is well; you no longer need it." Aialo-El started forward, but Richard turned, chair and all, and brandished the legs in her direction.

"Richard Arthur—"

"Don't you Richard Arthur Campbell me! If you think we're going to let you take that thing and leave us without a way to call you and your zapper guns, you've got another thing coming," Richard said. "My friend is well? My friend is bleeding from the shoulder, or haven't you seen?"

The woman stared at him, lifting her hands. It was ridiculous, really. Had she wanted, she could have vaporized both of them with her weapon. At least, that's what she had said when she had been pointing it at him the other night.

"I have no idea what's going on here, but I can tell you one thing," continued Richard. "We didn't have people shooting at us until you snuck into our house. This started with you. We're going to need some answers."

"I will take the communicator and leave you in peace. The Chorodonians will not concern themselves with you; you are merely humans. They were seeking us, and—"

"And what? No. No, all of this started with you. You expect us to believe that you're going to take your little toy and we'll be left alone?"

"Richard—" she said, but Richard cut her off.

"What do they want? Why are they here? Is it our plans? Then why are you here? 'Cause you've already got them, and—"

"Richard—"

"I said don't! Richard Arthur Campbell me, you batty woman! Tell me what's going on!"

"Richard!" This time it was Garth, but Richard had about had it with hearing his own name in sentences that didn't include, Here is a detailed explanation of why you are being chased by aliens with guns. "It's coming back!"

And, sure enough, there came a scraping sound from outside the house. Except this time, it was multiplied. It sounded like it had become they.

The three of them stared at the window for a beat. Then Aialo-El said, "Run."

Richard and Garth ran, forgetting the communicator on the carpet. But Aialo-El did not run. She slithered. And she leapt, too, in a slithery way. To his credit in their current crisis, Garth did not comment on her transformation into that strange worm shape as they chased her down the stairs, bringing their impromptu weapons with them.

When they reached the front door, Aialo-El did something that should not have been possible. That was saying quite a bit, because she was some kind of shape-shifting worm creature with stun guns in her hands, but still: she flattened to the thickness of a few sheets of paper, and she slithered right underneath the weatherproofing at the bottom of the door.

Richard and Garth stopped to stare without meaning to.

"I'm just gonna try the lock," Garth said.

"Yeah, I think I'll use the door," Richard replied.

They were back in motion, charging out the front door and down the steps into the yard. They passed the still body of another crab man lying on the sidewalk. Aialo-El was on the driveway, woman-shaped again, aiming her fist at the corner of the house.

"I can travel swiftly," she said, "but I cannot take you with me."

Richard and Garth exchanged a glance. Garth patted his pockets, looking toward the beat-up pickup truck standing in the drive. "I can—"

"No, the car," said Richard. He wasn't about to take a chance on whether that scrap heap on wheels decided to start. "Hey, Aialo, can you get in the garage?"

Aialo-El's tentacles quivered, extending toward him inquisitively. "Garage."

"There." Richard pointed. "Unlock the door and I'll get us out of here."

She didn't wait for further instructions. Before their eyes, she melted, her feet already slithering toward the garage before her head had even dissolved into that new shape.

"Gross," whispered Garth reverently.

A crab man was skittering around the house toward them. It was not using the ground, like a decent assailant; it was on the wall of the house, its claws making awful thundering sounds over the siding, like a heavy rain.

Garth staggered backward, raising his lamp. Richard adopted his best approximation of a fighting stance and held the chair like he was a cartoon lion tamer.

The creature bent its crabby legs and then leapt from the house, springing toward them with the agility of a grasshopper. Somebody shrieked. Garth swung prematurely. He struck Richard hard in the upper arm, forcing him to drop the chair. The pain was incredible, but it was secondary to the terror of a gigantic crustacean hurtling toward his face.

There was a flash of light. The crab man was thrown sideways and, for a few seconds, there was a complete absence of sound. When sound came again, it was Aialo-El's voice: "Richard Arthur Campbell!"

The men turned to see her standing in the side door of the garage. They ran toward her. She stepped back to allow them in.

In the cool darkness of the garage, Richard ran toward the work bench. On the shelf was a plastic margarine tub filled with screws. He spilled the tub across the workbench, scattering screws every which way. There it was: his spare key.

While Aialo-El stood guard at the side door, her fist at the ready, Garth had rushed to the large garage door. Sunlight poured in, dissolving the darkness as the door rolled up with a grumble. Richard's Camaro was gloriously backlit, promising escape.

"Get in the car!" Richard yelled.

He threw himself into the driver's seat. Garth was beside him before he could blink. Car doors slammed shut. With a glance in the rear view mirror, Richard confirmed that their very strange new friend was already in the back seat, looking over her shoulder, tentacles waving.

The engine roared to life.

"Come on, Christine," Garth whispered.

They tore out of the garage.

Well, you didn't think you'd seen the last of our betentacled burglar, did you? Of course not!

What's going to happen next? Do you have any guesses?