Now for the final step. He went inside and buckled on his sidearm.
V
Suddenly the clober squirmed in his arms and a chaos of mad, slobbering, disconnected thoughts washed against Tang's mind and staggered it with their very morbidity and black, hopeless fear.
For a moment he stood mentally numbed, desperately striving to sort the hodgepodge of impressions into a semblance of lucidity.
But they hit him, wave upon wave, as tangible as physical blows, and he fought the nausea they brought as he read them. I'm dead ... like a spider ... wasps! My God, this can't be happening! The bastards, bastards, bastards. Move. I've got to move! I can't! The thoughts ran together like the incoherent mass of a madman's ravings.
Then the mind Tang was hearing seemed to halt, as though it felt a new thing. Sammy? Sammy? Can you hear me?
"I hear you!" Tang burst out, speaking aloud, but remembering, distractedly, to keep the clober in the forefront of his mind.
Then come and kill me. For God's sake, come and kill me!
Fighting down the shock that threatened to overwhelm him Tang dashed from the hut, still clutching the little clober. They wouldn't stop him this time, he vowed.