The snout of what looked like a Chevrolet pick-up truck was on the right, floating three feet above the field where he and Wolf had been sitting peacefully and talking not five minutes ago. The edge of the brick toilet was on the left side of that blistered, tortured patch of air.
He was seeing it as if through ripply, badly made glass. and directly into the rest area on I-70 near Lewisburg, Ohio. Panting, his soaked hair hanging in his eyes, Jack looked over his shoulder. It was like listening to a man shout inside a telephone booth. His voice carried, but it had a muffled, dead quality as it came from the reality of that world into the reality of this one. 'There you are, you little shithead' Morgan bellowed at him. Gobbets of flesh began to rain down around Jack. Blood flew in a needle-spray of droplets. It struck one of the cow-sheep caught in the reedy muck on the other side of the stream and the unfortunate beast simply exploded, as if it had swallowed dynamite. A moment later another of the terrified cow-sheep struck him and bore him under again.īlue fire arched over Jack's shoulder, sizzling-it was like a deadly electric rainbow. Wolf bent over and retched up a great muddy sheet of water. As he watched, they began to sag tiredly outward in four different directions. The animal's legs were still there, mired in the mud like shake-poles. Again it struck the other bank, this time vaporizing one of Wolf's cattle. The wet, sizzling zap of electricity again, seeming almost to part his hair. 'Jason' Morgan of Orris screamed, and Jack realized that Morgan was not cursing in the Territories argot he was calling his, Jack's, name.
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