VAL KENTON WHIRLED, took charge of the situation as though he was still the patrolman he had once been. He jerked his head toward the open port.
“Tony,” he snapped, “get inside and bring out that catalyst feed. We can’t fight this thing for long; we’ve got to make a run for it.”
The patrolman moved without hesitation, swinging into the port, leaving his guns outside. His face was strained and white as he cast one last look at the hungry horror that moved so slowly, so implacably, up the beach.
Val Kenton set the control on his rifle. “Set your guns for flame,” he said sharply, whirled and helped Elise to the ground, “we haven’t enough power for atomic fire for any length of time; our only hope lies in holding that thing at bay until Tony gets the feed.”
They stood, the three of them, s
