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then turned and faced the shadowy stadium. |
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"Okay, my friend. Let's dance." |
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Facing an unknown opponent in the dark should have put Cyrus on edge. Yet for some strange reason he found that he was more angry than scared. He approached the stadium cautiously, one foot following the other as easily and surely as an alley cat walking a fence. Strange new sensations were filling his head. The thing was out there moving around in the shadowshe could hear it. A few more yards and he could smell it too, rank and foulthe stench of an open grave. And not a new grave either. |
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When he was ten feet from the tunnel entrance the thing came shuffling slowly out into the watery light from the street-lamps across the main highway. It was the size and shape of a man, but it didn't move much like a man. Its steps were slow and arduous. The sound its shoes made as they scraped over the concrete was like the sound of a giant sheet of canvas ripping. Then Cyrus saw the thing's eyes. They were round and red, like two molten balls of flame. |
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Cyrus calmly removed his jacket and the empty shoulder holster and dropped them on the ground. Then he unlaced and kicked out of his boots, pulled the turtleneck over his head and stood in his jeans and stocking feet. The thing stopped. It appeared confusedwhat was this crazy man doing? |
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Cyrus wondered the same thing. |
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He waited with his right foot in front of his left and his knees flexed, no longer cold, not scared. He told himself he was ready. |
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The man thing came on, stepdragstop! Stepscrape! Until it was almost on top of him. And then it stopped again like a toy robot with a dead battery and stood horribly still. |
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It was dead all right. Had been for some time by the looks of it. The face that had once been human had gone gray and knobs of pearly-white bone protruded through the backs of its hands. It was dressed in a dark suit that had patches of greenish mold growing on the sleeves, and black wing tips caked |
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