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and patrolmen fall victims of the Mil.
    “I don’t know how far they range, but I suppose we have forced them to find new sources of supply. Your planet, for one. Easy now. I forget it’s difficult for you to accept such a terrible fate for your people. We’ve lived with it all our lives.”
    “But, if these . . .”
    “Mil, although at one time we called them ‘God,’ ” Harlan remarked, grimly humorous.
    “ . . . these Mil captured me on a raid on Earth, how did I get here? On your planet?”
    Harlan frowned. “I would like to believe that our Patrol intercepted the ship you were on and captured it. But . . .” and he stopped as if he could see the fallacies in the theory and they disturbed him. “It must be way past Eclipse; or is it? If it is, I’ve been here a long time. Haven’t you got
any
idea of how long you’ve been here?”
    “I can only recall the last few weeks clearly. Yet it seems as if I’ve been here forever. I guess I was in shock or something,” I ended lamely. “I certainly was surprised to find I was a nurse for someone else.”
    “All the more reason to get out of here as soon as possible. My head is clear now and my reflexes feel normal. It’s been like swimming through sand. Still,” and he looked at me speculatively again, shaking his head, “I don’t understand how you managed to remain . . .” he hesitated and supplied another word, “ . . . untouched.”
    “Untouched? Oh, but I don’t look the way I used to,” I assured him, my hand rubbing my nose.
    “Don’t be ridiculous. You obviously aren’t a restoree,” he said sharply. I felt tension return to his body and coldness to his voice. “There isn’t a mark on you.”
    “No, that’s just it. There isn’t,” I replied. “I’ve lost three scars,” and I pointed to the areas involved, “and someone took pity on my . . .” my hand touching my nose.
    “Scars? Missing?” he interrupted in a hoarse whisper.
    “Yes,” I prattled on. “I had a long gash on my arm where I got caught on a picket fence . . .” and my voice trailed off as I saw his face. The mixture of horror, distaste, disbelief, anger and, strangely, hatred, stunned me.
    He grabbed my wrists in an angry grip and rubbed them, tracing the junction of hand and arm with fingers that hurt with their prodding. He felt around my ears, pulling my hair back roughly.
    “What’s the matter?” I pleaded, my delight congealing.
    He shook his head, hard, as someone whose neck muscles have contracted spasmodically.
    “I don’t know, Sara. It’s just hard to believe,” he replied enigmatically. “Yet you would not have been able to think things through the way you have if . . . We’ve got to get out of here. We have got to get out!” he said passionately.
    With a fluid stride, he crossed the room and yanked the pillow from the grill. He settled back in the bed, patting my arm reassuringly, as if he realized how worried I was by his reactions.
    It was a long time before sleep came to either of us. I remember feeling his fingers on my wrist again just as I drifted into unconsciousness.

 
    CHAPTER THREE
    D URING HIS SLEEPLESSNESS, H ARLAN HAD made the only plan of escape our mutual limited knowledge of the asylum afforded. To pass the force screen, we must overpower the guard in the cottage by means of the drug vial we had pried from the straitjacket. Harlan would wear the uniform, I would daub myself with blood, Harlan having assured me that the blood would be donated by the guard. We would try to pass out the gate of this section of the asylum as if I had been attacked by my patient. From there on, we must improvise. If it came to sheer strength, the powerfully built Harlan would prevail. However, neither of us could foresee what preparation might have been made for escapes.
    We also had no choice. Each day might bring the arrival of the technician to take Harlan’s absorption rate and we were too sure of the results of