Alice knew that Dobie was a good dog, even if he did have an alarming habit of hunting down rabbits and gophers. But one day he brought heró
ock, saw it was eleven and that she had spent nearly two hours looking for the hand. She saw, too, that the figure was still in the yard, standing there motionless, like something carved out of stone.
Her husband drove in at mid-night and it seemed an eternity between the time the engine stopped and he entered the house.
From the way he looked at her he was surprised to find her still in the kitchen.
"You still up?" His face was flushed, his tongue thick.
"Mac," she said, not knowing how to begin. "Where is that hand?"
"You still worried about that?" He took off his coat and threw it on the table.
"But Mac! They've come after it."
He looked at her dully. "Who's come after it?"
"The aliens--from the ship. There's one of them in the yard. Look out the window."
He turned around and saw the stationary figure in the yard. He took a deep breath. "So that's one of 'em, eh?" He laughed in a way that chilled her, then went to the cupboard and reached for h
A great, gruesome sci-fi story about a naughty farm dog who brings home dead things and ends up bringing home a hand with too many fingers.
The characters are great--a boorish anti-social drunk farmer and his dispirited wife, and also the other guy whose head is too big.
Worth a look.