Living Dead in Dallas

asking.
    “Oh, you must not have gone to a lock-in as a teenager!” Sarah said. “It’s loads of fun. Everyone comes and brings their sleeping bags, and we eat and have games and Bible readings and a sermon, and we all spend the night actually in the church.” I noticed that the Fellowship was a church, in Sarah’s eyes, and I was pretty sure that reflected the view of the rest of the management. If it looked like a church, and functioned like a church, then it was a church, no matter what its tax status was.
    I’d been to a couple of lock-ins as a teenager, and I’d scarcely been able to endure the experience. A bunch of kids locked in a building all night, closely chaperoned, provided with an endless stream of movies and junk food, activities and sodas. I had suffered through the mental bombardment of teenage hormone-fueled ideas and impulses, the shrieking and the tantrums.
    This would be different, I told myself. These would be adults, and purposeful adults, at that. There weren’t likely to be a million bags of chips around, and there might be decent sleeping arrangements. If Hugo and I came, maybe we’d get a chance to search around the building and rescue Farrell, because I was sure that he was the one who was going to get to meet the dawn on Sunday, whether or not he got to choose.
    Polly said, “You’d be very welcome. We have plenty of food and cots.”
    Hugo and I looked at each other uncertainly.
    “Why don’t we just go tour the building now, and you can see all there is to see? Then you can make up your minds,” Sarah suggested. I took Hugo’s hand, got a wallop of ambivalence. I was filled with dismay at Hugo’s torn emotions. He thought, Let’s get out of here.
    I jettisoned my previous plans. If Hugo was in such turmoil, we didn’t need to be here. Questions could wait until later. “We should go back to my place and pack our sleeping bags and pillows,” I said brightly. “Right, baby?”
    “And I’ve got to feed the cat,” Hugo said. “But we’ll be back here at . . . six-thirty, you said?”
    “Gosh, Steve, don’t we have some bedrolls left in the supply room? From when that other couple came to stay here for a while?”
    “We’d love to have you stay until everyone gets here,” Steve urged us, his smile as radiant as ever. I knew we were being threatened, and I knew we needed to get out, but all I was receiving from the Newlins psychically was a wall of determination. Polly Blythe seemed to actually be almost—gloating. I hated to push and probe, now that I was aware they had some suspicion of us. If we could just get out of here right now, I promised myself I’d never come back. I’d give up thisdetecting for the vampires, I’d just tend bar and sleep with Bill.
    “We really do need to go,” I said with firm courtesy. “We are so impressed with you all here, and we want to come to the lock-in tonight, but there is still enough time before then for us to get some of our errands done. You know how it is when you work all week. All those little things pile up.”
    “Hey, they’ll still be there when the lock-in ends tomorrow!” Steve said. “You need to stay, both of you.”
    There wasn’t any way to get out of here without dragging everything out into the open. And I wasn’t going to be the first one to do that, not while there was any hope left we could get out. There were lots of people around. We turned left when we came out of Steve Newlin’s office, and with Steve ambling behind us, and Polly to our right, and Sarah ahead of us, we went down the hall. Every time we passed an open door, someone inside would call, “Steve, can I see you for a minute?” or “Steve, Ed says we have to change the wording on this!” But aside from a blink or a minor tremor in his smile, I could not see much reaction from Steve Newlin to these constant demands.
    I wondered how long this movement would last if Steve were removed. Then I was ashamed of myself for thinking this, because what I meant was, if Steve were killed. I was beginning to think either Sarah or Polly would be able to step into his shoes, if they were allowed, because both seemed made of steel.
    All the offices were perfectly open and innocent, if you considered the premise on which the organization was founded to be innocent. These all looked like average, rather cleaner-cut-than-normal, Americans, and there were even a few people who were non-Caucasian.
    And one nonhuman.
    We passed a tiny, thin