He stayed crouched. It was quiet now, real quiet, for almost a minute. Then, in the distance and off to the left, there were squishy noises. He shifted his position on the rock and squinted toward the left. He saw the two men who’d been sent to flank him from that side. They were about seventy yards away and a little more than halfway across the quagmire. It was below their knees and they were making rapid progress. Then suddenly they were slowed down. They were in it up to their waists. They kept moving forward and went in deeper. Then they just stood there.

Corey took a deep breath. Again he shifted his position and aimed his eyes at the opposite flank. He saw the other two moving across the quagmire, not more than fifty yards away. It was up past their knees. It stayed at that level as they advanced another fifteen feet. They were nearing the point where they’d be on a line with the rock and Corey thought, they reach that point, that’s it. That’s the finish. They’ll take aim and fire and you’re done.

“Hold it,” a voice shouted. It was Kingsley’s voice.

The two men stopped and faced about. One of them called to Kingsley, “Whatsa matter?”

“Just hold it there—wait.”

“For what?” the man whined loudly. “What the hell’s wrong?”

For a few moments there was no reply. Then Kingsley yelled, “Come back, come back.”

“What’s happening?”

“Come back.” Now it was a shriek. “Don’t stand there, we gotta get outta here. Come on, make it fast.”

The two men headed back toward the other side of the quagmire. There was something frantic in the way they were moving. Corey turned and looked at the two on the left flank and saw them wading through the thick slime, going back to the other side.

Then he lifted his head and peered through the gap. He saw Kingsley running back and forth along the edge of the quagmire, beckoning feverishly, urging them to hurry.

And it ain’t no fake maneuver, Corey told himself. What musta happened, Kingsley thought he heard something, and then he listened again and knew he’d heard something. And it wasn’t no four-footed drifter coming in to get chummy. Whatever it is that’s coming in, it’s got Kingsley snapping his lid. Just look at him hopping around.

“Move it,” Kingsley was screaming to the men. “Move it, move it!”