Tony Andrews nodded. "Yes, we were married just before we started; this was to be our honeymoon."
Val Kenton didn't move, but his hate then was a terrible thing that shook him with its intensity. Now he had a double reason for slaying this dishevelled man who stood at his side. He forced his voice to remain comparatively calm, seeking to hide the feelings that tortured him.
"Run," he said to Elise and Johnson, "we haven't much time."
And then Val Kenton and Tony Andrews were alone in the clearing, and the sounds of the flowing death behind them grew louder as the seconds passed.
Val Kenton backed to one side, watched with flame-bright eyes as the Patrolman lifted his gun in a futile attempt to stall the monster for precious seconds. He lifted his own gun, centered it on the Patrolman's broad back, and his finger tightened on the firing stud.
He fired—and in the same split second that he fired, a great crimson hood flashed down over his head and body and tightened about his waist, pinning his arms to his sides.
Val Kenton screamed then, his cry reverberating into his ears as the monster, carnivorous flower tightened its grasp. He smelled the sickly sweet odor of the blossom, and giddiness tugged at his senses. His body surged again and again in a futile attempt to break the rubbery-like tension of the plant, fought agoniziedly when he felt the first exquisite agony of the digestive juice biting into his shoulder.
Then he was free, retching in the clean air, his body being helped erect by Tony Andrews' firm hands.
"Whew!" Tony Andrews breathed raggedly, "I thought you were a goner for a moment!"