"Campbell, John W Jr - Who Goes There" - читать интересную книгу автора (Campbell John W Jr)

"Mr. Samuel Dutt -Bar!"
The tensity was released in that second. Whatever of hell the monsters may have had within them, the men in that instant matched it. Barclay had no chance to move
his weapon as a score of men poured down on that thing that had seemed Dutton. It mewed, and spat, and tried to grow fangs -and was a hundred broken, torn pieces.
Without knives, or any weapon save the brute-given strength of a staff of picked
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men, the thing was crushed, rent.
Slowly they picked themselves up, their eyes smouldering, very quiet in their emotions. A curious wrinkling of ther lips betrayed a species of nervousness.


Barclay went over with the electric weapon. Things smouldered and stank. The caustic acid Van Wall dropped on each spilled drop of blood gave off tickling,
cough-provoking fumes.


McReady grinned, his deep-set eyes alight and dancing. "Maybe," he said softly, "I underrated man's abilities when I said nothing human could have the ferocity in
the eyes of that thing we found. I wish we could have the opportunity to treat in a more befitting manner these things. Something with boiling oil, or melted lead
in it, or maybe slow roasting in the power boiler. When I think what a man Dutton was -"


Never mind. My theory is confirmed by -by one who knew? Well, Van Wall and Barclay are proven. I think, then, that I'll try to show you what I already know.
That I too am human." McReady swished the scalpel in absolute alcohol, burned it off the metal blade, and cut the base of his thumb expertly.


Twenty seconds later he looked up from the desk at the waiting men. There were more grins out there now, friendly grins, yet with all, something else in the
eyes.


"Connant," McReady laughed softly, "was right. The huskies watching that thing in the corridor bend had nothing on you. Wonder why we think only the wolf blood has
the right to ferocity? Maybe on spontaneous viciousness a wolf takes tops, but after these seven days -abandon all hope, ye wolves who enter here!


"Maybe we can save time. Connant, would you step forward-"
Again Barclay was too slow. There were more grins, less tensity still, when Barclay and Van Wall finished their work.


Garry spoke in a low, bitter voice. "Connant was one of the finest men we had here -and five minutes ago I'd have sworn he was a man. Those damnable things are more
than imitation." Garry shuddered and sat back in his bunk.


And thirty seconds later, Garry's blood shrank from the hot platinum wire, and struggled to escape the tube, struggled as frantically as a suddenly feral, red-eyed,
dissolving imitation of Garry struggled to dodge the snake-tongue weapon Barclay advanced at him, white-faced and sweating. The Thing in the test-tube
screamed with a tiny voice as McReady dropped it into the glowing coal of the galley stove.
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Chapter 12
"The last of it?" Dr. Copper looked down from his bunk with bloodshot, saddened eyes. "Fourteen of them -"