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the year by wrenching it violently away from the ungodly things that had stolen it.

CHAPTER FOUR
    Dawn had climbed two hours up the sky, and the sun slanted through the east windows of the lab. The assembled men were restless; forty of them, shifting about, fingering their rifles and shotguns with eager hands. Linc waited close to Wes for Iverson to join them and give the final word. The excitement inside him was a bubbling, a churning in his stomach.
    This morning would be his. A real fight, a hand-to-hand battle—this kind of action he knew backward and forward, and the feel and taste of it, the pending wildness of it, were spurs that made his feet want to stride outside on their own will, made his voice want to come up shouting.
    â€œI think we’re going to do it,” Wes’s voice was thick with enthusiasm. “Look at those men, Linc. They’re like tigers, every one of them. I think we’re going to do it this morning.”
    Linc glanced over the forty men again, a frown edging between his blue eyes. “Some of those kids are so blatantly kids. Nineteen, twenty. I wish Iverson could have enlisted some seniors, at least. I worry about them.”
    â€œDon’t,” Wes said. “They’re eager. They’ll be your best men this morning. Just wait and see.”
    Iverson’s entrance interrupted them. “Are we all set?”
    â€œAll set,” Linc nodded.
    â€œGood. Then we’ll move out in ten minutes. You men will go out in a group, so that we can lure the Eyes simply by our show of numbers. The police first, and then the students.” He lowered his voice and addressed Linc directly. “We’ll follow behind, at a safe distance.”
    Linc glanced up quickly to meet the old man’s gaze. “What do you mean, safe distance? You’ve got this all wrong, Doc, if you think I’m here to be an observer, or some back-line general. I’ve brought my gun, and I’m going to fight.”
    Iverson shook his head. “You’re not going to fire one shot. The lab needs you; if this doesn’t work, then who knows, maybe the whole town needs you for another try. However it is, you’re not going to join the fight. No one from the Lab is to engage in combat. And for once, I won’t stomach any arguments. Argue, and you’re out altogether. Understood?”
    Iverson stepped away before Linc could protest. He faced the men and began to outline the plan.
    â€œI don’t like this,” Linc said to Wes. “I don’t like to be counted out of something I planned myself.”
    â€œWe have no choice. Who knows—” Wes tried to joke the scowl off Linc’s face—“maybe we can get rich by selling our observations to the Sunday magazines.”
    A moment later, the quiet was broken by the sharp shuffling of eighty feet. The men were moving out. Linc reached for his gun, but Wes’ hand closed over his arm, and he laid it back down. “Okay,” Linc grunted, “so I’m out—put to pasture—an observer. Let’s go. I guess our battle group is forming over there.”
    He indicated Iverson and the knot of lab men who had formed around him. None of them had guns, and their empty hands were nervously clenching and unclenching. The morning was warm, the Indian summer sun lying on Linc’s shoulders like a sweater. He stayed beside Wes, walking along the concrete of the parking lot, then across trimmed grass, through the crackle of fallen leaves. The students and police were well in advance, already off the lab grounds, onto the brushy weed growth of the open meadow.
    A woods loomed one thousand feet ahead of them, and a pheasant took flight at their approach, its bright head glinting metallic green in the sunshine. Everything was strangely quiet. Somewhere in the forest, a flicker sounded its jungle cry, warming up for its journey south to tropical forests.
    Fifteen minutes had passed,