|
|
|
|
|
|
|
image that wouldn't crystalize, a bad dream, no beginning, no end. I shuddered. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Researcher," Madden snapped, "over here!" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I took several steps forward, fingers cramping around the handle of the Mauser. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Flash your light up in that tree," he whispered. "Keep your movements slow." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The index finger of my right hand was coiled securely around the trigger. My left hand clutched the cumbersome flashlight. From there on I like to think it was one fluid movement; my thumb jammed the switch forward and the beam of light pierced through the fog and darkness like a laser. I was dead on. It was still there, and my stomach began ricocheting around like a crazed pinball machine. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Oh, my God," Madden muttered. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
There were no reference points. It simply was. It had a bloated, misshapen head that was dominated by slitlike, yellow, dulled eyes that glared down at us in open defiance. All of its other features seemed to be lost in the twisted mass of variegated tissue that constituted the head. Only the crooked, cud-chewing mouth possessed its own definition; it was an uneven black slit that slashed across its face, seeping thick, oily juices as it masticated its food. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It grunted an unintelligible prehistoric threat, weaving slowly back and forth on a |
|
|
|
|
|