Fred had just entered the asphalt road that wriggled through the suburb. Then he heard something big and breathing approach him - from the freeway exit.

He quickly crawled into the underbrush beside the road, and lay flat against the ground. The vibrations in the ground felt different this time, softer and more complex. Asphalt cracked and buckled under the massive trundling. The movement was slowed down by a crashing, splintering noise as the moving thing plunged into a house. Wood, glass and tile scattered on the lawns and sidewalks. The giant crashed its way through the house and moved on uphill, cutting a straight path.

A few minutes later the noise died away. Fred held his breath and slowly crawled out of the shrubs, onto the road, and ran for Pat's house.

He arrived, breathless, and saw that her house was still standing in place, unscathed; her tiny car stood parked directly on the front porch. Nothing could be seen through the dark front windows; all lights were out in the entire block. He picked up his phone and dialed Pat's number, but got no connection to any phone network. Fred tried the car doors. They had been left unlocked; the car was empty.

He went over to the house front and stood holding the door handle for a few moments, indecisive. Then he sneaked alongside the house to the back, where there was a small fenced-in lawn, and lay down by a basement window. The pane was dark... and yet, the faintest hint of light seeped out from it. Fred tapped on the little pane with his fingertips.

Down inside the basement, Trish lay in a state of half-sleep, tossing and turning in the bed. Pat lay slumped on the couch with a blanket over her, drifting in and out of sleep. Her shoes and clothes were still on. The gun and holster lay on the floor beneath the couch. Seven candles were still burning in the chandelier.

Someone tapped on a basement window from outside. Pat started and grabbed the Glock from the floor, stood up and took aim at the cardboard that covered the tiny niche. Trish stirred but did not leave the bed.

Again the tap-tap, only more urgent.

Pat edged closer to the niche, her gun fixed on the window, until her face almost touched the cardboard cover. Tap-tap.

A hoarse voice came from the outside, barely audible. With trembling hands, Pat cocked the gun and put the barrel against the cardboard.

"Pat. Trish. It's me. Fred!"

Pat put her lips to the seam between the cover and the niche frame, and raised her voice.

"Go away! The monsters are here! You're leading them to us!"

Fred, cupping his hands around between his face and the windowpane, would not move.

"Listen, Pat. I heard two of them. One is on the top of the hill. The second one went up to join him. Now we have a chance to leave in the car. When the sun comes up it might be too late!"

Pat swallowed, glanced down at Trish who was waking up, and uncocked the gun.

"No... we'll stay here and wait for the military to move in and kill them. We don't know how many monsters there are. They could be anywhere. Now go! It's not safe to be outside."

"Is Trish there? With you?"

"Go away, Fred."

Trish reacted. "Mom? Is Dad here?" The girl crawled out of bed, still dressed in the pants and sweater she had worn all day, and rushed to the window. Trish raised her hands as high as she could against the wall, unable to reach the windowsill. "Dad!"

"Trish, baby, are you all right?"

"Be careful Dad, the giant is out there. He can smell Englishmen."

Pat gently pushed Trish away from the wall; the girl protested by pushing back.

"Can I come in?" Fred asked. "I can't stay out here. I don't have the car, I hitched a ride with some shady kids, but I think they left."

"You're such a screw-up," Pat said, frowning at the blocked window. "You always screw up my life, no matter what you do. Pathetic drunk... you're gonna get us all killed. Is that what you want? You wanna get your daughter killed? Go away!"

"Don't!" Trish tugged at Pat's arm, her voice breaking up into crying. "I want to see Dad!"

"Shut up!" Pat shook Trish away, and went over to the table. After she had blown out all but one candle, she returned to the window and removed the cardboard cover. She opened the window shutters just enough to see the outline of Fred's head, as he lay pressed against the pane. "Can you check that my car is working?" she said softly. "Don't speak, just nod." Behind her, Trish was sobbing.

Fred nodded. Pat removed the car keys from her belt and pushed it through the air-vent; he picked them up.

"Make sure the car can start and has enough gas in the tank to take us to Pomona. If there ain't enough gas, go to Mrs. Alder's garage next door - it's always unlocked - and see if you can find a spare tank. Then I'll let you in, and we'll make up a plan. Okay?"

"Tell Trish I love you both," he said, and stood up, supporting himself against the wall. Muscles popped in his back as he straightened it. Pat pulled the shutters down and put back the cardboard cover.

Her attention turned to Trish - who was lying curled up on the bed, chewing on her fists.

"Don't cry, hon." Pat sat down by the girl and caressed her head. "Dad is coming in soon. Just be quiet, so nothing goes wrong. It'll be all right. I'm here. I'll always protect you."

Trish pulled away from her mother's hand and buried her face in the pillow. Pat draped the blanket over Trish's shoulders, and went into the bathroom. Inside it was a tiny cramped shower cabinet, a toilet, a sink and a cabinet placed up high where Trish could not reach.

Pat opened the cabinet and took out a medicine bottle labeled Prozac. She ate two pills and washed them down with tap water, then checked herself in the bathroom mirror. Her short blond hair was a mess; tears began to form in her ruddy eyes, but she shut them hard and drew a deep breath.

"I'm stone, I'm stone, I'm stone..." she mumbled to herself. "Nothing can hurt me. I'm stone..."

***

Fred came out of Mrs. Alder's garage carrying a gasoline tank, when he heard a faint sound. He hid in the niche between the two house fronts, and peeked out. It was the figure of a man, doing a slow, labored walk up from the freeway exit.

Only when the man was passing Pat's and Mrs. Alder's house, could Fred see the grime that covered the man's face and clothing, and heard him sob; he appeared to be unarmed and young.

"Hey! Over here!" Fred said, waving at the man, who spun around and froze. "Don't go up the hill, the giants are there."

The man looked about himself, as if he expected an ambush, and moved onto Mrs. Alder's driveway. A moment of mutual recognition occurred.

"Mister Bean," said Inches in a low voice, and let out a dejected chuckle.

"Oh, it's you. What happened to your van?"

"Another big one. He ate..." Inches sobbed, and seemed much younger than when he commanded his gang of thieves. "He ate my friends. Lifted the van like a f***in' cookie jar, and... and..."

Fred checked the street in both directions, and stepped out of the alley. "Look, I'm sorry about your friends, but we've gotta get out of here before the giants wake up. I've got a car for my family, and I'm sure we can squeeze you in. But you've got to get it together. We can't fight them, but we can find a place where the military is in control. Are you with me?"

Inches shook his head; tears made tracks through the grime and dust on his face. "I ain't runnin' nowhere. I hurt one of'em. Made'im bleed. Shot his big f***ing eyes out. I can kill'em. You go ahead'n run, Mister Bean. I ain't got no family left. But I still got my pride. Them big f***ers are gonna die."

"Wait... let's not stay out here. Come in. But be quiet. My daughter's in there, and my wife... and she's got a gun. If you act funny or threatening, she will shoot you. So please stay cool."

Inches had stopped sobbing; in his eyes was a fierce, calm determination. "I'm cool. Ice cold."

"Let's go."

Fred went to Pat's front door and knocked. After half a minute, Pat opened the door enough to peek outside, leaving the door-chain in place. The barrel of her Glock was pointing out through the crack.

"Who's that?"

"A survivor from the freeway exit," Fred explained. "The only survivor I've seen so far. Please let him in. All his friends got killed."

"He doesn't live around here," she hissed. "I don't recognize him. Has he threatened you? He could be a burglar."

With an exasperated sigh, Fred raised his arms. "We're all in this mess now, and I think he can help. He says he managed to injure one of the giants, and I believe him."

Pat exchanged suspicious glances with the young man who stood beside Fred.

"Where you from?"

"See that great bonfire at the horizon?" He pointed at the orange glow to the west. "That's where I'm from."

"What was it like over there?" Pat asked.

"Chaos..." Inches adjusted his bandana. "Monsters, lots of'em, coming up through the ground everywhere. We left just before the military moved in. Don't know if the roads can be used now, though. If you try to drive out, chances are you get stuck out on the freeway. Those motherf***ers come up from the earth, and they can smell you, like dogs. I'd rather stay and fight."

"Then why don't you go back to L.A.?" Pat suggested, the sarcasm palpable. "I'm sure the military has it under control now."

Inches chuckled. "You're funny, lady, a regular comedian... think it's safe to stay in L.A. while the Army and Air Force firebomb the city?"

Fred cleared his throat. "Come on!"

Pat cocked the gun; her voice was steady. "One at a time... slowly. I got the gun... I give the orders. If you make noise or trouble, you're kicked out. Comprende?"

Both men nodded. She pulled back and let them in.

As soon as they were inside, Pat locked the door and demanded back the car keys. Fred tried to hug her, but she angrily backed off and held the gun in front of her. The house hallway was lit by a single candle on a table. Inches asked to use the ground-floor bathroom and went in there. Pat and Fred heard the shower turn on.

"Can I just see Trish for a minute?" Fred whispered. Pat's face was unmoving, stony, accusing. "Pat, please. I miss you both. You don't have to get back at me through her."

Pat's gaze dropped, avoiding his eyes.

"I'll never be able to trust you again. Your drinking nearly got her killed once. You lost your old job because you showed up drunk too many times. I left you to babysit Trish when she was home sick with a cold. And you got drunk again, and she overdosed on cough syrup while you passed out on the couch. She cried, she was in such pain, I was convinced she was going to die. Then I swore I'd never let you ruin my life again."

Fred shut his eyes, his face contorted by grief. "If I could undo everything I did wrong, I would... all I can do is try to clean up my act. It's hard, Pat. I try every day to be a better man. If I could just see her, talk to her, then I know I could pull through..."

"Oh no, don't you try to push the responsibility onto us. It's your life, you clean it up."

Fred opened his eyes. "What about Jasper, your workplace white knight? Has he offered any help?"

"Haven't heard a word from him since I left work. He might be dead."

They paused and listened to the splashing from the shower.

Pat brought the candle into the kitchen - broken porcelain crackled under their feet - and opened the fridge and freezer. With the power out, the food left inside had started to spoil. She threw away the ruined items and took out whatever was still edible. They were both hungry, and ate in silence.

"Better keep an eye on that guy," Fred said, after he had downed two glasses of soda and some food. "I think he's in shock after his friends got killed. He wants to go after the giants."

"Let him try." She yawned. "I really need to sleep soon. Can you stay up here and warn me if things get out of hand?"

"Sure."

"I'm not even sure if I'm awake or having a bad dream..."

"Did you notice something about those things?" Fred asked.

"What?"

"They're all male."

"Are you sure?"

"Unless they are space aliens, and I don't think so, there's got to be female giants. But where are they?"

"Oh, stop it. Maybe the giants just sprung up from the earth itself. Maybe... the planet gave birth to them. To get rid of us. We've been sucking the earth dry for a long time, draining the oil, the life in the sea, drilling, blowing up, mining... now the Earth is sending out its antibodies to cleanse itself from parasites... from us."

"That's crazy. Planet Earth isn't a living thing. It's just rock beneath our feet."

"Oh yeah? You've been there?" Pat continued eating. "Explain how anything that big can live underground."

"Those giants are big... but they have to eat like us, sleep like us... then they've got to breed, have offspring, grow up. There used to be myths and legends from ancient times, that giants existed... like the Cyclops in the Odyssey, or the Trolls in Norse mythology. Then, without warning, the giants disappeared."

"Sounds more like they went into hiding... or hibernation."

"Like bears... sleeping for thousands of years... until winter was over."

"This is bullshit, Fred. So what woke them up? Global warming? An oil drill poked one of them in the head? What do they want here?"

"Food, obviously..."

"And the missing females?"

"Have you seen male salmon during mating season? They swell up, their flesh gets all red with blood vessels, they bulk up with fat and muscle so they can beat the other fish in the big competition for the females. At the end of the mating season, the male salmon are all used up, exhausted... they literally shrivel up and die once their work is done."

"So the male giants are bulking up for the mating season."

"But where do they go then? Where are their females? Come to think of it, the females should also be feeding now, to get the strength for giving birth. How come we don't see them eat?"

"Maybe they are on the bottom of sea, eating all the fish?"

"I wonder how big these giants can get. A pregnant giantess might make the male ones seem small. It might be safer and easier for the females to stay underground."

"There's nothing to eat underground. No plants, no water..."

"No, you're wrong there. I read somewhere that there's a lot of life deep underground. Water, too. It's not all rock. Most of that life is bacteria and fungi, things that don't need sunlight. They can grow on wet rocks."

"You mean that the giants live off licking rocks?"

"I dunno... blue whales filter tiny plankton from seawater, and they can live on that alone. A full-grown whale is pretty much the same size as one of those giants."

"If you're right, the giants are not going to stay here forever. Sooner or later they will return to the females to mate. They'll leave us alone."

Fred made a grimace of fear. "Their offspring. What do you think their offspring is going to eat? Will they be satisfied living underground forever, when there's an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord up here?"

"I'll go downstairs and get some sleep. You two sleep up here." She added: "And I'll keep the door locked until I wake up."

They stood up, simultaneously, and looked at each other.

"You don't think we ought to try and leave now, before daybreak? I know the roads pretty well, Pat. Better than you."

Pat tucked the gun back into her hip holster. "I'll think better after I sleep. Now go to bed."

She left the burning candle on the kitchen table, and locked the basement door. Inches came out of the bathroom, his shoes off, wiping his hair with a towel. He sniffed food and went to the kitchen. He returned shortly with some food and sat down by the candlelight to eat.

"Help yourself," said Fred. "I'll tuck in for the night. Knock on my door if you hear or see anything suspicious. And don't make noise, you hear?"

Inches looked up from the table and said, grinning: "I'm not the monster here." With his face lit from below by the yellow candlelight, Inches resembled a ghoul.

Fred went into the bathroom and cleaned himself up. He locked the bedroom door behind him, took off his shoes and lay down on the bed, alone.

It was very quiet outside. Once or twice, an aircraft flew by high above. Someone flushed a toilet, either down in the basement or on the ground floor.



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