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Had he just killed someone?

No-no-no, the man couldn’t be dead, this couldn’t be happening, it wasn’t real it wasn’t real.

What was going on? The craziness out in the streets, in the hotel, and now this? And Jeff …

Cooper stumbled back to his friend. Jeff still hadn’t moved. He lay there, covered in that blasphemous rot.

The sounds of metal doors slamming open echoed through the room. The boiler blocked a view of the door, but the sound of shoe soles slapping against concrete told Cooper people were coming, fast.

He had to hide. There was only one place to hide. Cooper quickly and quietly slid between Jeff Brockman and the wall.

Jeff’s body felt hot, as if his fever had magnified a hundred times. Cooper slid down on his right side, pulled on Jeff so his friend’s back once again rested against the cinder-block wall.

Cooper tried not to think about the other two people under the membrane …

Rus.h.i.+ng footsteps coming closer.

It was a s.h.i.+t hiding place it wouldn’t work they were going to kill him and strangle him but it was all he had.

Through a small rip in the membrane, he could see part of the concrete floor, could see the foot and leg of the dead bald man.

Maybe it’s dark enough, maybe they won’t touch Jeff because they’re not supposed to touch NEVER supposed to touch, maybe—

Three sets of feet stepped into view: red sneakers; a pair of s.h.i.+ny, polished shoes; a pair of brown loafers. The heels of the polished shoes rose up — someone was kneeling over the bald man’s body.

“He’s dead,” a voice said.

“Where’s the killer?” said another.

The feet moved. Shoes pointed in new directions as people looked around the boiler room

“I don’t see anyone,” the first man said.

“Should we check the coc.o.o.ns?” said another.

“Check them for what? We don’t even know what’s happening in there. We’re not supposed to touch.”

“Never supposed to touch,” a woman said.

The first voice spoke again. “Someone who is not a friend is around here somewhere. Let’s go tell Stanton.”

Stanton? Had Cooper heard that right?

The shoes moved away, slowly, but it only took a couple of steps before they were gone from Cooper’s view.

He lay there, under his best friend and the two people packed in with his best friend, all of them covered in G.o.d knew what, trying not to make the slightest noise that would bring men who wanted to kill him, kill him because he wasn’t a friend.

Coc.o.o.n.

That’s what they called the membrane, a f.u.c.king coc.o.o.n? What did that mean?

A coc.o.o.n … a caterpillar turning into a b.u.t.terfly … was Jeff changing into something else?