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urgent, something electric and beckoning. One possessed a large repaired tear in it. The second was small and lonely-looking. The third was a vivid thing, apart from the others. It managed somehow to beat more vibrantly than the others, and as he watched and listened, the sounds seemed to be evolving into something more frightening. Even in the raspy hoarseness of the sound, he recognized their unthinkable invitation. |
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Lawrence Dawkins recoiled and staggered backward, no longer fascinated. Now he was terrified. |
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The objects, and he knew what they were now, started to slither toward him. It was a kind of choreographed madnessan insane, incomprehensible summons into their world. |
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The man sagged to his knees, clutching his throat, his heart hammering. The pain, for one brief moment, was excruciating; there came the tearing of flesh, the severing of life, and finally the oneness with them. |
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Lawrence Chester Marquard Dawkins, Inspector rank, Royal Canadian Mounted Police, was no longer alone. In his heart, he had joined them. |
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