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back in his head.
Stroud tore the choking hand from his jugular, coughing and shouting for help. A distortion of Weitzel's already corpselike features began to overtake the man's face when a voice came from within Weitzel .
Weitzel's lips were frozen, deathlike, but a voice came like a bubble trapped in the body up and up through him with a start and a rumble, a gurgle and an eruption that sent a brown ugly liquid dripping from his lips along with the preternatural voice. The sound was coming from deep within his chest. It was not Weitzel's voice. Stroud knew this even though he had never known the man, for the voice was far from human in origin. It came from the ship; it came to speak through Weitzel expressly to warn Stroud off. It had the desired effect, for it shook Abraham to his core, and it made the hair all over his body twitch.
"Stay yourself from my wake, Esruad ."
"My God," said Stroud, regaining his composure as much as possible. "Who are you?"
"Be gone, Esruad !"
"My name is Stroud."
" Esruad ."
"Who are you?"
"Stay you from my wake! Run, Esruad , run!"
"Damn you, what are you?"
"Life is mine."
"Life?"
"Life to feed on."
"Who are you?"
"Life-taker."
"Are you demonic? Are you Satan?"
Its laugh shook through Weitzel like a kettledrum, and from deep within Weitzel it amassed a vile, guttural sound that brought forth a frothy brown liquid that first dripped and then spurted from the body it inhabited. Stroud stepped back an instant before the viper's spittle shot across at him, missing him and staining the floor and the bed sheets Stroud had earlier been on. The brown mucus sent up a stench with the gas it created on hitting the air. It burned an acidic hole in the bed sheets and the tiled floor. It smelled of earth, ancient and deep earth, of bog and swamp and sulfuric acid.
As doctors rushed into the isolation ward in their protective gear, Stroud took hold of Weitzel , causing the fuming, discolored eyes to disappear, shouting at the thing inside him to identify itself. "Who are you, damn you? Who are you?"
Stroud heard only a psychic whisper then: "Everyman ... legions ... armies ... I am everyman."
"Son of a bitch!" Stroud strangled Weitzel .
The doctors tore Stroud from Weitzel . The struggle took Stroud to the floor with a couple of orderlies while some of the others stared in horror at Weitzel . The old man's body rose from the bed, levitating, convulsing before it collapsed onto the covers again and the straight line on the EKG signaled that he was no longer in coma but dead.
"Damn! Damn! Damn!" a female voice shouted from inside one of the space suits. She came to Stroud and shouted, "Just what the hell do you think you were doing?"
"You must've heard the voice? You must've seen--"
"We heard nothing."
"We saw nothing," seconded another of the suits.
"I just held a conversation with something inside here, inside of that man."
"Hallucinating," said one of the doctors. "Not uncommon in people coming out of coma, Dr. Cline."
"Dr. Stroud," she said, "I am Dr. Kendra Cline, Centers for Disease Control, Atlanta. You might be interested to know, sir, that you are the only man to come out of this thing. As for Simon Weitzel , you're welcome to look at the monitor tapes. He never regained consciousness; therefore, you could not have held a conversation with him."
"It wasn't Weitzel I was talking to."
"Are you sufficiently calm, Dr. Stroud, to allow us to release you now?"
"Yes, please let me up."
As Stroud regained his feet, he pointed to the soiled bedcovers and the tobacco-like stain on the floor. "Have your lab people determine the content of that substance, Dr. Cline, and handle it with the greatest care."
"What is it?" asked the second doctor.
"It came out of Weitzel , just before he died. Ectoplasm of some sort."
"You don't really expect us to believe that, do you?" asked Dr. Cline.
Stroud stared through the thick protective glass mask that she wore and into her deep, probing
Stroud tore the choking hand from his jugular, coughing and shouting for help. A distortion of Weitzel's already corpselike features began to overtake the man's face when a voice came from within Weitzel .
Weitzel's lips were frozen, deathlike, but a voice came like a bubble trapped in the body up and up through him with a start and a rumble, a gurgle and an eruption that sent a brown ugly liquid dripping from his lips along with the preternatural voice. The sound was coming from deep within his chest. It was not Weitzel's voice. Stroud knew this even though he had never known the man, for the voice was far from human in origin. It came from the ship; it came to speak through Weitzel expressly to warn Stroud off. It had the desired effect, for it shook Abraham to his core, and it made the hair all over his body twitch.
"Stay yourself from my wake, Esruad ."
"My God," said Stroud, regaining his composure as much as possible. "Who are you?"
"Be gone, Esruad !"
"My name is Stroud."
" Esruad ."
"Who are you?"
"Stay you from my wake! Run, Esruad , run!"
"Damn you, what are you?"
"Life is mine."
"Life?"
"Life to feed on."
"Who are you?"
"Life-taker."
"Are you demonic? Are you Satan?"
Its laugh shook through Weitzel like a kettledrum, and from deep within Weitzel it amassed a vile, guttural sound that brought forth a frothy brown liquid that first dripped and then spurted from the body it inhabited. Stroud stepped back an instant before the viper's spittle shot across at him, missing him and staining the floor and the bed sheets Stroud had earlier been on. The brown mucus sent up a stench with the gas it created on hitting the air. It burned an acidic hole in the bed sheets and the tiled floor. It smelled of earth, ancient and deep earth, of bog and swamp and sulfuric acid.
As doctors rushed into the isolation ward in their protective gear, Stroud took hold of Weitzel , causing the fuming, discolored eyes to disappear, shouting at the thing inside him to identify itself. "Who are you, damn you? Who are you?"
Stroud heard only a psychic whisper then: "Everyman ... legions ... armies ... I am everyman."
"Son of a bitch!" Stroud strangled Weitzel .
The doctors tore Stroud from Weitzel . The struggle took Stroud to the floor with a couple of orderlies while some of the others stared in horror at Weitzel . The old man's body rose from the bed, levitating, convulsing before it collapsed onto the covers again and the straight line on the EKG signaled that he was no longer in coma but dead.
"Damn! Damn! Damn!" a female voice shouted from inside one of the space suits. She came to Stroud and shouted, "Just what the hell do you think you were doing?"
"You must've heard the voice? You must've seen--"
"We heard nothing."
"We saw nothing," seconded another of the suits.
"I just held a conversation with something inside here, inside of that man."
"Hallucinating," said one of the doctors. "Not uncommon in people coming out of coma, Dr. Cline."
"Dr. Stroud," she said, "I am Dr. Kendra Cline, Centers for Disease Control, Atlanta. You might be interested to know, sir, that you are the only man to come out of this thing. As for Simon Weitzel , you're welcome to look at the monitor tapes. He never regained consciousness; therefore, you could not have held a conversation with him."
"It wasn't Weitzel I was talking to."
"Are you sufficiently calm, Dr. Stroud, to allow us to release you now?"
"Yes, please let me up."
As Stroud regained his feet, he pointed to the soiled bedcovers and the tobacco-like stain on the floor. "Have your lab people determine the content of that substance, Dr. Cline, and handle it with the greatest care."
"What is it?" asked the second doctor.
"It came out of Weitzel , just before he died. Ectoplasm of some sort."
"You don't really expect us to believe that, do you?" asked Dr. Cline.
Stroud stared through the thick protective glass mask that she wore and into her deep, probing
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