Then I waded into the heart of the monster, right into its middle with the grey oiliness billowing out all around me. There seemed to be nothing material, nothing to grapple hold of. It was like fighting a dream.
But then I hit something solid. My groping hands closed around warm flesh. I started to squeeze.
I had a throat. A living core of flesh within the monster? It might be. I constricted my fingers, dug them in, heard strangled gasps coming from further in. I couldn't see, but I hung on.
Then a human voice said, "Damn you—you're choking me!" And the monster thinned.
Through the diminishing smoke of the dream-creature, I saw Donaldson, and I was clutching his throat. He still held the black box in his hand, but it was slipping from his grasp, slipping....
He dropped it. It clattered to the floor and I kicked it far across the cabin.
The monster vanished completely.
It was just the two of us, there in the cabin. I heard fists pounding on the door from outside, but I ignored them. This was between me and Donaldson.
"What is that thing?" I asked, facing him, tugging at his throat. I shook him. "Where'd you find that hell-thing?"