Shit gets crazy

The scratching intensified, then grew louder. Macready's voice was a strained whisper.

"Wait. Wait until it gets through the door." Garry nodded, his palms damp on the main switch.

The scratching had risen to a steady, insistent pounding. The door was heavier than most in the compound. Nauls and Macready quietly lit a pair of Molotovs and concentrated on the entrance.

The door boomed hollowly as something massive threw its weight against it. The room began to shake. Dirt fell from cracks in the quivering ceiling. Macready raised his arm and aimed the slowly flickering Molotov. Then the roof gave way and it dropped into their midst. Instinctively the three stunned men threw themselves away from the dark mass occupying the middle of the room. As he stumbled backward Macready heaved his Molotov and from the other side of the room Nauls did the same.

Both struck close to the thing's right side. For an instant they could see it clearly: a raging, constantly shifting gelatinous form silhouetted by the flames.

Garry bolted for the door. As he jumped something erupted from the center of the humping mound and speared him. The unaffected two-thirds of the enormous body followed its probing tongue or tentacle or whatever it was and engulfed the hapless station manager before he could get the door open.