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.""Good, but you'd better have this anyway.""What is it?""Diaper.""You're kidding.""You'll thank me for it later."With Winfield doing most of the work, they draped the plastic sheets around their necks and sealed the edges.It was difficult to handle anything properly through the plastic, but Winfield produced a roll of adhesive tape and bound it at their necks, wrists and ankles.The binding made it possible for them to walk and move their arms with comparative freedom.To complete the grotesque outfits, they wrapped more plastic around their heads, finished it with cement and tape, then jammed on their prison caps."I'll carry the pack and the bird," Winfield said."Stay as close to me as you can.""You can count on that, Doc."Moving toward the swamp in blackness, Tallon was aghast at the thought of what he was going to do.Although blind, he knew when he had reached the edge of the swamp by the feel of the clammy mist closing round him, as well as by the stench, which made every breath something to be planned in advance and forced through with determination.Unidentifiable night noises drifted through the swirling vapor, reminding him that, although the robot rifles had finished off only the swamp's warm-blooded inhabitants, there were others to share the darkness.And yet, Tallon was aware of feeling something approaching peace.He had finally become tired of drifting with the current, of compromising, of feeling afraid.The fat old doctor, with his head full of ridiculous dreams, was leading him to almost certain death; but he had taught Tallon one great truth: Walking toward death is not pleasant, but it's better than having it come up fast behind you.The swamp was much worse than Tallon had anticipated; in fact, he discovered he had not really expected the swamp to be a problem.They were able to remain upright and move ahead by walking and wading for the first hour, covering about two hundred yards in reasonable comfort.But presently Tallon began to hit patches where his feet seemed to sink through six inches of molasses before reaching solid support.The goo made walking difficult but not impossible, even when it had begun to reach nearly to his knees.Tallon went steadily ahead, sweating in his plastic sheet.Then the bottom seemed to drop out of the world.Instead of his feet finding bedrock, they kept going down and down as though the whole planet was sucking him through its skin."Fall forward," Winfield shouted."Throw yourself down on it and keep your arms spread out."Tallon splashed forward, spread-eagled on the heaving surface of the quagmire, embracing its filth.The water splashed over his face, and sediment swirled to the surface, releasing all the odors of death.Uncontrollable spasms of retching forced his face down again, into the crawling fluid."Are you all right, son?" Winfield's voice was anxious.Tallon's first impulse was to shout for help in his black, blind universe, but he clenched his teeth and kept beating the surface of the quagmire with his arms.Gradually his feet worked upward, and he moved forward again in a semi-swimming motion."I'm all right, Doc.Keep traveling.""That's the way.It won't all be like this."Furious splashing sounds from up ahead told Tallon the doctor was already moving on.Grinning with desperation, Tallon flailed after him.Sometimes they would reach little islands where they were able to travel short distances on foot, beating their way through the rubbery vegetation.At other times they encountered solid curtains of vines and had to go to the side or even backtrack to get by them.Once Tallon put his hand squarely on something lying flat and icy smooth below the surface.It humped convulsively and drove out from under his body with silent strength, paralyzing him with fear.As the night wore on Tallon found himself catching up to Winfield with increasing frequency, and he realized the doctor was reaching the point of exhaustion.Winfield's breathing became a harsh, monotonous sobbing."Listen, Doc," Tallon finally shouted."We both need a rest.Is there any point in risking a heart attack?""Keep moving.There's nothing wrong with my heart."Tallon found some firm ground under his feet.He lunged forward, throwing his weight onto Winfield, and brought him crashing down.The doctor fought him off stubbornly while struggling to move on."For Christ's sake, Doc," Tallon gasped, "I'm talking about my heart.Take it easy, will you?"Winfield fought on for a moment, then went limp."Okay, son," he said between gasps."I'll give you five minutes.""Believe me, Doc, I'm grateful to you.""I'm grateful to myself."They lay huddled together, laughing weakly while Winfield's breathing gradually returned to normal.Tallon told him of his encounter with the underwater creature."A slinker -- harmless at this time of the year," Winfield said."In the laying season, though, the skin of the female toughens into knife edges at the sides.They slice past anything that moves, laying it open, and inject their eggs at the same time.""Nice habits.""Yes.I'm told the thing to do is to think of it not as losing a foot, but as gaining a batch of slinker offspring.As a matter of fact, we're making this trip at a very good time.The swamp is pretty quiet late on in the winter.The only real danger is from muck spiders.""Poisonous?""No.With the sort of mouths they have, poison would be superfluous
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