"Página inicial do navio" <
A história começa com Ruth, a esposa do narrador, reclamando que o zelador lhe dá "arrepios":
Her eyes narrowed. "You listen to me," she said. "That man has some design in being here. He's no janitor. I wouldn't be surprised if . . .
"If this apartment house were just a front for a gambling establishment. A hideout for public enemies one through fifteen. An abortion mill. A counterfeiter's lair. A murderer's rendezvous."
Ruth encontra os motores no porão e os mostra ao marido:
I felt a little detached from reality. East 7th Street, I told myself again. An apartment house on East 7th Street. It's all real.
I couldn't quite convince myself.
We stopped at the bottom. And I just stared. Engines, all right. Fantastic engines. And, as I looked at them it came to me what kind of engines they were. I'd read about science too, the non-fiction kind.
Eles se encontram trancados em seu apartamento. Eles tentam fugir:
"The engines!" Ruth suddenly cried. "They're starting them!"
"They have to warm up!" I made a wild guess. "We can still get out!"
I let go of Ruth and grabbed a chair. For some reason I felt that the windows had been automatically locked too.
I hurled the other chair through the glass. The vibrations were getting worse.
"Quick!" I shouted over the noise. "Out the fire escape! Maybe we can make it!"
O final:
And then the sky, which was growing light, grew dark. My head snapped around. Women were screaming their lungs out in terror. I looked in all directions.
Solid walls were blotting out the sky.
"Oh my God," Ruth said. "We can't get out. It's the whole block."
Then the rockets started.