They were through the doorway now. The only pursuer still on its feet was reeling after them, green rod still held in one shaking hand. Its rust-red eyes were bulging out from their deep pits, and a thin trickle of violet ichor came from its nostril. It made guttural, creaking noises.
"Down at the end," said Watkins. "The brown box."
"Did you gimmick it?" asked Summersby.
"I think so. We have to take a chance. The main idea is easy. I guessed at a few things, but I think it'll work. Unless one of our big pals checked on it and mucked up my improvements."
It was twenty yards away; but so was the last of the monsters. Summersby changed Full to his other arm and added his voice to the general clamor for a bar or so, then asked Watkins the question that had been nagging at him. "Can we all go? Or does somebody have to send the others?"
"I'll send you. I'm not too sure I can get through. The dials and focusing lenses are on the outside, you know."
"I'll work it, then." They were at the table; he dropped Full and helped Adam shove a chair to the table. The woman and Villa were singing "Quiereme Mucho" in Spanish, their voices a trifle hoarse by now.
"You will like hell. It'd take me ten minutes to teach you how to work the transmitter. Think we have ten minutes?"
The giant was standing still, weaving, pawing the air. It would not give in to its pain and dizziness. If it fell now it might hit them. It was that close.
"You've got to show me. I have a bad heart. I'm due to die in a month or two," said Summersby urgently.