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anything. I tried to pull free, but I couldn't move. A buzzing began in my ears, growing louder until it filled my head. White specks danced and skittered across my field of vision until my sight was no better than the worst television reception. I panicked, tried to wrench myself backward, but nothing happened. I was trapped in my own body.
    Then, through diminishing patches of clear vision, I saw the Observer take a deep breath, his face tightening in concentration like he was preparing to lift something heavy. Then his fingers opened slowly, as though against some great resistance, releasing my wrist. I fell backward, and his hand snapped forward again, snagging the collar on my shirt, his quick action the only thing that kept me from landing on my back in the debris. The weird insomeone-else's-body feeling disappeared. The buzzing faded, and 19
    The Silver Spoon

    my vision returned. Now, I could see the Observer staring at me and hear the sounds of sirens approaching.
    "How did you do that?" he asked.
    "I didn't do anything. Now, let go of me," I said, my voice trembling. I didn't want to be afraid of him. I wanted to kick him out of what remained of the diner.
    He stared at me. "We must go."
    "What?" It was my turn to stare at him. But he didn't respond, just started dragging me off toward the kitchen and, I'm guessing, the back door.
    I dug my heels in, but that only slowed him down a little. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't know you. And you're...one of them ." This was as close to my nightmare as I hoped to ever be. I started to reach for his hand on my collar but stopped just before touching him, remembering what had happened when he'd touched me only moments ago. I tried twisting away from him, but his grip remained firm.
    He paused and turned to look back at me, the silver in his eyes reflecting the dancing flames on the wall behind us. "If he finds he has not succeeded with this attempt, he will only try another way."
    That stopped me mid-struggle. "What? Who? What are you talking about?"
    "You are a threat to him, so he hired a human to kill you. The human detonated the charge meant to take your life–his mission was clear: eliminate you by whatever means necessary." He paused, eyes shifting to a point over my head, seeming to pull information from some other source. "The human sent here carries a picture of you in his coat, showing you as you are now, in clothes related to your occupation."
    Jeans and a polo shirt? I thought in a bizarre moment of abstraction. That's what I was wearing, what I wore most days, but it wasn't like a nurse's uniform or anything. 20
    Stacey Klemstein
    "He studied it often–he couldn't afford to make a mistake, not with an alien pulling the strings." His last words made no sense. He was an alien–why would he be referring to his own kind that way?
    My heart thudded hard and fast. Nuttier than a fruitcake this one. Why did the crazy one have to show up near me? I didn't need him. I was crazy enough for the both of us. "Look, the sheriff must have hit you harder than I thought. I am the owner of whatever is left of the Silver Spoon Diner. The only threat around here is maybe getting Salmonella from Lucy's coleslaw." I stopped talking and looked at him to see if my words were having any effect. But he wasn't even looking at me. He was staring at where the picture window used to be.
    I wasn't sure he'd heard me until he said, "There isn't time to explain now. Your sheriff is coming and–" That was all I needed to hear. I pulled forward hard and twisted at the same time, hearing a seam somewhere in my shirt give, but then I was free. The Observer reached for me, his hand closing on empty air an inch or so above my wrist. I stumbled back from him and ran like hell for the gaping hole in my front wall. "Over here, Sheriff Brigham," I shouted. I tripped over the debris, but I managed to stay on my feet and keep moving. I didn't look back to see if the Observer was following. I