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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