Themanagerstoodrooted,gazeflickeringlikehewaswrestlingwithsomethingfesteringinthedarkercornersofhismind.

        Reyawatchedhim,notinghowtheheathadnearlysteamedhimalivefromtheinsideout.Shesmirkedinwardly.Hewasalreadyburningup,nearlysettingthathazmatsuitonfire.Nowayhecouldkeepplayingrestraintformuchlonger.

        "Whatareyousoafraidof?"shewhispered,hervoicesoftasadream."It''snotlikeyou''llloseapieceofyourself."

        Hedrewinalongbreath,chestheaving,asifsteelinghimselfforachoice.Then—withoutanotherword—heturnedandstrodeforthedoor.

        Reya''sbrowfurrowed.Aflickerofdoubtscrapedathercomposure.Hadshemiscalculated?Noway.Washereallygoingtowalkaway?

        Butthedisappointmentdidn''tlastlong.

        Hereturnedmomentslater.

        Stillsealedinsidethehazmatsuit—onlynow,ajaggedholehadbeencutcrudelyintothecrotch.Fromitjuttedanengorged,purplishlength,slickandstraining,framedgrotesquelybythesterilewhitefabric.

        Somethingclungtoit.Notskin,notcloth,butathin,translucentcasingstretchedtightovertheshaft,glisteninglikesomemanufacturedmembrane.

        Reya''sgazesnappedtoit—andfroze.Hersmirkvanished.

        Awaveofrevulsionrippedthroughher.Herinstinctsrecoiledviolently.Thatthingwasn''tbareflesh.Itwassealed,encased,blockedoff—theverypartsheneededtofeedfromsmotheredinsideanartificialshell.

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