Malcolm did not let go of her long.
Iyisha's face was pressed against his chest, her fingers twisted weakly in his shirt, and her whole body shook under the sheet wrapped around her. Her breathing came too fast. Her skin was cold. Blood marked both wrists where the restraints had cut through.
He looked past her.
The dead tank lay across the corridor with half its skull gone. The twitcher he had pulled off her twitched once near the wall, then stopped.
The young doctor stood near the wall with both hands raised. His coat was torn. Blood covered one sleeve. His face had gone gray.
Malcolm lifted the pistol.
Iyisha's hand tightened on his shirt. It barely moved, but he felt it.
"He…" Her voice scraped out, thin and broken. "Helped me."
Malcolm kept the gun on him. "You do something funny, you die.
The doctor nodded fast. "They left me." He looked around. "I want to live."
Malcolm stepped close to him. "What did you do with her?"
