"Wimmen and kids," Carver said bitterly. "Did you see them things that
came out?"
"Yes." Jerry was drenched in sweat and the torch trembled in his hand.
"Let's get on to the next one, Mike."
They went on to the neighboring farm, and to the one after that, while
the shadows pulsed in an unholy turmoil. The night swarmed with
malignant invisible forces, that tried to blow the flame from their
torches, that flayed them with the naked sword of fear. There were
hideous shapes, half-seen. There were waves of terror like a physical
shock. There were puffs of ordure, so rank they gagged.
But they plodded through it, faces set, sweating and agonized. Till,
halfway up the valley _it_ came....
Carver knew it first. His leathery face paled; his hands fumbled
instinctively for the gun he was not carrying.