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Page 123
with a horrifying single-mindedness, it began inching its way to the fallen man's face. Slowly, methodically, it encompassed the Airman s round, fear-filled face and began to squeeze.
Cappy closed her eyes, but the sickening image burned its way into her mind. She heard the same terrifying sounds over againthe splintering and collapsing of things once solid and rigid and made of bone. The man was screaming. To Cappy it sounded like the shrill screams of the old women in her village when they learned that their men had gone to sea, never to return again.
Suddenly there was an ominous and deadly silence.
Cappy opened her eyes.
Whoever he was, he lay there, ashen and still, a grotesque, fat, rag doll of a man with a head that had been pulverized into a shapeless mass, crushed like something overripe and rotten. The blood-stained stringy brown hair was crusted over with a thick purplish gelatinous substance that seeped from the gaping fissures, tracing crazy quilt patterns back and forth across what was left of the man's mutilated head.
Pain was searing its way up her leg. She staggered from the room, her stomach revolting. She slammed the door shut and threw the dead bolt.
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