Watching him go, Nimson felt a surge of terror.
Hadn’t the T’s tracks led west? Christ ... what if it was somewhere close? There’d be nowhere to run. No place to hide.
The wind blew; he scanned the trees.
Scale-like cypress leaves danced, wiggling. He heard a low noise. A soft, thump-thump-thump-thump ...
He walked out to the center of the road. He hadn’t a clue what that sound was, but he felt better—safer—out here in the open, with black pavement beneath his oxfords, and a painted yellow line to guide the way. Surely, there’d be someone to happen along. A semi, perhaps. Or a ...
Thump-thump-thump-thump ...
What the hell was that?
He scanned the trees again. No ... No, it wasn't emanating from there. So where ...?
Thump-thump-thump-WHAP-WHAP-WHAP ...!
He peered skyward.
It was a
