Palm slick with sweat, he gripped the master switch and shoved it shut.
Purple light flared in the tubes set in the light-loop's door-like metal frame. The blank wall behind it took on the familiar translucent glow.
Horning opened the intensifier channels and increased the alpha and gamma readings.
The light turned silver. The wall behind the framework disappeared.
Horning stepped onto the ramp that led up to the frame. In the humming stillness he could hear the sound of his own heartbeat, drumming faster and faster. The sharp, chlorine-like smell of ozone filled the air.
For an instant, then, he hesitated, acutely conscious of an uncontrollable trembling. Sweat drenched him; the sour stench of it cut through the ozone.
He thought: Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm crazy to think I can cross the barrier between the worlds.
Upstairs, the front door slammed. The house echoed with the thud of heavy footsteps.
Myrtle's footsteps—!