It was Aunt Amy who did it.
While her nephew Anthony concentrated on turning yet another person into a jack-in-the-box, Amy grabbed the poker from the fireplace and knocked him on the head.
It wasn't an act of malice, really. More like Amy was dazed and out of it, as she had been ever since Anthony robbed her of her ability to sing.
As her son lay curled up on the floor, Agnes Fremont said, "Oh, no."
Anthony's father checked for a pulse. "It's all right. He's just unconscious."
Amy went to the window and looked out.
"Yes, it's all right," she said in a low mumbling absent voice. "We don't need to be afraid any more. Look, people are coming out of the cornfield. Anthony has no power now."
"I'll sedate him." Bill, the delivery man from the store, held up a syringe. Probably one of the last ones in town.
"No, no, no, you can't. You mustn't." Agnes shook her head as she held up an open palm.
But Bill had already injected the boy.
"Maybe we won't have to kill him," Bill said. "Maybe we can just keep him like this. In a deep sleep."
"You don't understand," Anthony's mother said tearfully. "When the Kanamits took over Earth, Anthony was the one who sent them all away."
"Yes, here they are," Amy said in her mumbling distant voice.
The others went to the window to look out with Aunt Amy. Besides people stepping out of the cornfield, there were also the robed Kanamits, the human-eating aliens who once dominated Earth. A Kanamit spaceship hung in the air, the giant saucer casting a shadow over the cornfield.
"Now that Anthony's in a deep sleep, the Kanamits are back," Mrs. Fremont said as her lip quivered.
Next to her, Mr. Fremont looked dazed and frightened. He also spoke in a mumble, his voice laced with quiet panic.
"So you mean we have to make a decision. Which is better: Anthony, or the Kanamits?"
"Anthony, wake up," someone said.
As Anthony opened his eyes, he felt numb and weak and incredibly groggy.
He saw his father and mother smiling down at him.
"What's going on?" he asked in a creaky whisper.
As she smiled, the mother leaned in.
"You were in a coma," she explained sweetly. "But now you're back. You're awake. Finally. You've come back to us."
Anthony made a face. "A coma? That's funny. I had these dreams. I was able to...do things."
"Yes, we heard you talking in your sleep," the mother said with a little laugh.
"It makes sense," his father chuckled. "When you're a little boy with no power, you're going to dream that you have a lot of power."
"Especially when you have a high fever," his mother said.
"But I sent away all the Kanamits," Anthony said in a sleepy voice.
As she leaned closer, the mother put a hand to his cheek. "Well, now you're just an ordinary little boy again. You won't be causing any trouble."
"That's good. I guess." As he sat up, Anthony frowned in confusion.
"I'll bring you some lunch," his mother said.
The father tousled his hair. "Later we'll play some baseball, okay, slugger?"
When the two stepped into the next room, the images of Mr. and Mrs. Fremont dissolved. In their place stood two tall bald Kanamits.
A third Kanmit, sitting at a control panel, glanced at the boy through the observation window.
"Does he suspect anything?"
"Not a thing," the Kanamit on the left said in the voice of Don Fremont.
"He won't be using any of his power," the other Kanamit said in the voice of Agnes Fremont. "The power of suggestion can be a powerful thing."
Control-panel-Kanamit smiled, a hideous smile. "Good. We can resume shipping the people of Earth back to our world. And no one can stop us."