The Star Group by Christopher Pike Page B

made many a meal of their soft parts.”
    I was horrified. “I hope they died quickly.”
    “It wasn't that quick.” The old man nodded to my friends across the lake. They were still walking back and forth between the van and the cabin. “But don't let what happened then spoil your vacation. You'll have fun.”
    “I hope so.” I was beginning to wonder.
    “You had fun last time, didn't you?”
    “I’ve never been here before.”
    The old man squinted. “Oh, I never saw you before, that's right.”
    I felt a drop of ice water on the back of my skull. There are all kinds of deaths. Some quick, some very slow.
    “Have you seen my other friends before?”
    He nodded. “I've seen that van, that's for sure. And that tall black fellow.”
    Sal hadn't told me about this place.
    Right then, all my friends were outside by the van.
    “Do you recognize any of the others?” I asked.
    The old man squinted in their direction. “I can't be sure. But that blonde girl there sure looks familiar.”
    Gale was the only one who could be described as blonde.
    “The one with the white pants?” I asked softly.
    “Yeah. I think I know her.”
    My throat was dry. “When were they here?”
    “Last winter. No, maybe it was last summer, I can't remember.”
    My voice sounded pitiful to my own ears.
    “But you're sure you saw them here together?”
    The old man stared at me. He was no fool, he knew what I was asking.
    “Son,” he said as he reeled in a miserable three-inch bass, “when you get to be my age it's hard to be sure about anything. But I might have a long talk with my girlfriend it I was you. Or you might not want to talk to her at all. It all depends on what you want to do while you're up here.”
    I underscored the choices. The peace of the place was a lie.
    Also, it held on to its victims. Not a good omen.
    This weekend I could cook or drown.
     
     
    CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    THAT NIGHT, WHILE WE SAT ON THE PORCH and looked out at the lake and the emerging stars, I brought up Mentor. We had eaten an early dinner, so none of our bellies was stuffed. I thought that was important if Mentor was going to do some kind of meditation with us.
    The day had been pleasant, despite my uneasy feelings about Gale's past. We had swum in the lake, fished from it, and also rowed on top of it. On a hike later in the day we found a couple of neat caves far back in the woods. One cave, in particular, seemed to dig deep into the mountain. But we had not explored it as far as we might have. I think we were afraid of running into a bear. Sal had a revolver with him, which seemed to comfort the others but bothered me. I had never been a fan of guns. Sal was given the revolver by his real father, he said, ten years ago. It was a .357 magnum, and Sal said it could stop a big bear if he hit the beast in a vital spot.
    I eased into the subject of Mentor by bringing up aliens.
    I pointed out the Big Dipper, which was not so clear as it would have been if the moon was absent. Briefly I wondered if the full moon would aid the awakening Mentor hoped to achieve. It seemed a remarkable coincidence to me that it was so bright.
    “Astronomers say there are over six hundred million galaxies in the bowl of the Big Dipper alone,” I said. “Those are just the ones we know about. If you think about it, that each of those six hundred million galaxies has as many stars as our own-and the Milky Way has four hundred billion stars in it – then it makes you realize how small we are.”
    Sal was enjoying an evening cigarette because none of us would let him smoke in the cabin. He sat close to the edge of the pier, in the moonlight, away from Teri and the rest of us. By the feeble light of a flickering lantern, Teri was sewing a blouse. Jimmy and Shena lounged together on a hammock, and Gale sat at my knee, waiting for me to spill my guts.
    “I like to reflect on how large the universe is,” Sal said. “It makes me realize how insignificant my problems