Hathaway fought against the mist in his eyes. "Just think—I will see the monsters again. I will see them again and I will not feel them. Think it over and over."
Marnagan's hulk stirred uneasily. "And—what if I forget to remember all that? What if I get excited...?"
Hathaway didn't answer. But his eyes told the story by just looking at Irish.
Marnagan cursed. "All right, lad. Let's have at it!"
The monsters returned.
A soundless deluge of them, pouring over the rubbled horizon, swarming in malevolent anticipation about the two men.
"This way, Irish. They come from this way! There's a focal point, a sending station for these telepathic brutes. Come on!"
Hathaway sludged into the pressing tide of color, mouths, contorted faces, silvery fat bodies misting as he plowed through them.