hardly an inch in diameter. He picked up one in each hand and then stood up and walked to the door.
He was beyond thought or reason. He knew he was going to his death and he felt nothing but a numb sense of anticipation. He knew that in dying he would not expiate the crime of cowardice he had committed. Nothing would ever erase the stigma of that shame. A thousand deaths could not do that.
He did not actually think these things. His mind was wrapped in a fog of blind instinct. There was something he must do—do immediately. That was as far as his mind would go.
The kitchen and front room of the small building were empty and the door leading to the outside was open. The wild raging storm of the monsoon blew in the door, whipping papers into the air, resounding against the walls with a booming roar.
Ward strode across the room, bracing himself against the blast of the wind. He stepped through the doorway and the full force of the wind almost bent him backward, but he moved on, fighting his way forward.
After six feet, the building was lost in the grayness. He was again alone in a wild howling world of horror and death.
Then he heard the rasping noise of the things directly ahead of him, and an instant later he was able dimly to make out their weaving shapes in the swirling mists of the storm.
The were coming toward him.
With a grim exultation pounding in his temples, Ward hurled a pellet of U-235 directly into their midst. The thunderous reverberations of the explosion rocked the ground under his feet. A terrific blast of air that dwarfed the raging turbulence of the monsoon roared about his head.
He staggered back, almost falling.
When he could see again, he made out a great hole in the ranks of the things moving toward him.
His laugh was a wild cry in the fury of the night.
"Damn you!" he shouted.
His arm whipped back and the second pellet crashed into the serried ranks of the deadly rasping creatures.
Something grasped his ankle as the second pellet exploded. He fell backward, striking the ground hard. A hand grabbed his and then, miraculously, incredibly, Halliday was pulling him to his feet, jerking him toward the building.
They stumbled through the door together. Ward fell to the floor as Halliday wheeled and slammed the door, throwing the automatic bolts with the same motion.
Halliday knelt beside Ward.
"Good work," he said huskily. "They were holding me. I don't know what they were planning. Those bombs blew them into little pieces. Luckily I go through the blast all right." He gripped Ward"s arm suddenly. "You came through too, son."
"No," Ward said dully. "I didn't. I ran out on you. I'm a fool, a yellow fool."
"A coward wouldn't have come back," Halliday said quietly. “We're going to lick this job together, from now on. We've found a weapon to use against the Raspers. I never thought of high explosives."
He grinned suddenly and the tightness was leaving his mouth. "It doesn't seem so terrible when you've got something to fight back with."
Ward looked up at Halliday and a faint smile touched his own lips. "Someone to fight with, means a lot, too."
(Concluded on page 241)
