Page 112 (1/2)

“Double it again,” Margaret said.

Dan turned his shoulders to face her square-on. “No way. Didn’t you hear me? He’s got an erratic heartbeat.”

“He’s a strong man, Doctor,” Margaret said. “He can handle it. Now double the dosage.”

Inside his helmet, Dan shook his head. “No f.u.c.king way.”

“d.a.m.nit, Daniel,” Margaret said. “If these things ma.s.s in his brain, he’s screwed. We’ve got to cure him.”

“Is killing him the same as curing him? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you jack up the dosage again.”

“Get out of here,” she said. “I’ll do it.”

He stared at her. “I don’t know you very well, but you’re a doctor. What the h.e.l.l happened to you?”

“They happened to me,” Margaret said. “We have to know if this works. If we don’t find a cure, one life won’t really matter. Now get the h.e.l.l out of my way.”

Daniel pushed past her, past Clarence, and opened the airlock door to Trailer A. As she turned back toward Sanchez, her eyes caught Clarence’s.

In his eyes, she saw sadness. More than that, she saw pity. She finally understood why Bernadette Smith had to die. And she hated herself for it.

She looked away from Clarence and started increasing the dose.

11:50 A.M.: THE INTERROGATION

Dew hated the biohazard suit almost as much as Perry did. He’d always made fun of the human condoms, but now that he’d actually caved in and worn one, he felt jinxed, as though the next time he didn’t wear one he’d catch something for sure. With a new .45 in a hip holster worn outside the suit, Dew imagined he looked like a total douchebag.

Perry just stared at the two caged hatchlings. They looked lethargic, defeated. Maybe sitting next to the center cage containing Perry’s decomposed shooting victim mellowed them out. They’d barely moved in the last twenty minutes.

“What do they say, kid?”

“They’re still not saying anything,” Perry said. “They just seem to be out of it.”

“Can’t you read their minds or something?”

Perry shook his head. “It’s not like that. The triangles are still connected to human brains, I think that’s why I can hear that chatter from hosts. But the hatchlings aren’t connected to human brains. They can talk to me, but only when they want to.”

“But you’re still hearing that triangle chatter?”

Perry nodded. “Yeah. It’s getting stronger, too, which is kind of weird. It usually only gets stronger when I’m tracking them down, getting closer. Maybe they have more power now? I don’t know, Dew—maybe we don’t need these f.u.c.kers at all. Can I shoot another one?”

Dew leaned down to look into the cage on the left. “What do you say, champ? Should we shoot you?”

Both of the hatchlings stirred. They blinked their black eyes, seemed to gain a little life.

“Something’s getting them moving,” Dew said. “They afraid of the gun?”

“No, that’s not it,” Perry said. He closed his eyes, seemed to concentrate. “The chatter is getting louder. A lot louder. Wait, Dew, I’m picking up thoughts of a gate . . . and a tall building.”