The Drawing of the Three.

__"I make you want to puke."
__"That's affirmative."
__"Oh boy," Eddie said. "I love it. I'm sitting here in a little room and I've got nothing on but my underwear and there's seven guys around me with guns on their hips and make you want to puke? Man, you have got a problem."
__Eddie took a step toward him. The Customs guy held his ground for a moment, and then something in Eddie's eyes — a crazy color that seemed half-hazel, half-blue — made him step back against his will.
__"I'M NOT CARRYING!" Eddie roared. "QUIT NOW! JUST QUIT! LET ME ALONE!"

(...)

__As Eddie watched, one of the horrors reached up, lightning quick, and snared a sea-bird which happened to swoop; too close to the beach. The thing fell to the sand in two bloody, spraying chunks. The parts were covered by the shelled horrors even before they had stopped twitching. A single white feather drifted up. A claw snatched it down.
__Holy Christ, Eddie thought numbly. Look at those snappers.
__"Why do you keep looking back there?" the guy in charge had asked.
__"From time to time I need an antidote," Eddie said.
__"From what?"
__"Your face."

S. King