Watchers

other things, but that was only because they could not hit upon the pertinent yes-or-no questions that would have led to explanations.
    Even when a hundred questions failed to reveal the meaning of one of the photographs, the three of them remained excited and delighted by the process of discovery, for they met with success in enough cases to make the effort worthwhile. The only time the mood changed for the worse was when they
    queried Einstein about the magazine picture of the demon from an upcoming horror movie. He became extremely agitated. He tucked his tail between his legs, bared his teeth, growled deep in his throat. Several times, he padded away from the photograph, going behind the sofa or into another room, where he stayed for a minute or two before returning, reluctantly, to face additional questions, and he shivered almost continuously when being quizzed about the demon.
    Finally, after trying for at least ten minutes to determine the reason for the dog’s dread, Travis pointed to the slab-jawed, wickedly fanged, luminous-eyed movie monster and said, “Maybe you don’t understand, Einstein. This isn’t a picture of a real, living thing. This is a make-believe demon from a movie. Do you understand what I mean when I say make-believe?”
    Einstein wagged his tail: Yes.
    “Well, this is a make-believe monster.” One bark: No.
    “Make-believe, phony, not real, just a man in a rubber suit,” Nora said.
    No.
    “Yes,” Travis said.
    No.
    Einstein tried to run off behind the sofa again, but Travis grabbed him by the collar and held him. “Are you claiming to have seen such a thing?”
    The dog raised his gaze from the picture, looked into Travis’s eyes, shuddered, and whimpered.
    The pitiful note of profound fear in Einstein’s soft whine and an indescribably disturbing quality in his dark eyes combined to affect Travis to an extent that surprised him. Holding the collar with one hand, his other hand on Einstein’s back, Travis felt the shivers that quaked through the dog—and suddenly he was shivering, too. The dog’s stark fear was transmitted to him, and he thought, crazily, By God, he really has seen something like this.
    Sensing the change in Travis, Nora said, “What’s wrong?”
    Instead of answering her, he repeated the question that Einstein had not yet answered: “Are you claiming to have seen such a thing?”
    Yes.
    “Something that looks exactly like this demon?”
    A bark and a wag: Yes and no.
    “Something that looks at least a little bit like it?”
    Yes.
    Letting go of the collar, Travis stroked the dog’s back, trying to soothe him, but Einstein continued to shiver. “Is this why you keep a watch at the Window some nights?”
    Yes.
    Clearly puzzled and alarmed by the dog’s distress, Nora began to pet him, too. “I thought you were worried that people from the lab would find
    you.”
    Einstein barked once.
    “You’re not afraid people from the lab will find you?”
    Yes and no.
    Travis said, “But you’re more afraid that . . . this other thing will find you.”
    Yes, yes, yes.
    “Is this the same thing that was in the woods that day, the thing that chased us, the thing I shot at?” Travis asked.
    Yes, yes, yes.
    Travis looked at Nora. She was frowning. “But it’s only a movie monster. Nothing in the real world looks even a little bit like it.”
    Padding across the room, sniffing at the assorted photographs, Einstein paused again at the Blue Cross ad that featured the doctor, mother, and baby in a hospital room. He brought the magazine to them and dropped it on the floor. He put his nose to the doctor in the picture, then looked at Nora, at Travis, put his nose to the doctor again, and looked up expectantly.
    “Before,” Nora said, “you told us the doctor represented one of the scientists in that lab.”
    Yes.
    Travis said, “So are you telling me the scientist who worked on you would know what this thing in the woods was?”
    Yes.
    Einstein went looking through the photographs again, and this time he returned with the ad that showed a car in a cage. He touched his nose to the cage; then, hesitantly, he touched his nose to the picture of the demon.
    “Are you saying the thing in the woods belongs in a cage?” Nora asked.
    Yes.
    “More than that,” Travis said, “I think he’s telling us that it was in a cage at one time, that he saw it in a cage.”
    Yes.
    “In the same lab where you were in a cage?”
    Yes, yes, yes.
    “Another experimental lab