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REVELATION 18:9

He shall see the smoke of her burning.

~ * ~

Alex was afraid to open the shelter.

He was filled with the dread that came with seeing Deb as a vampire, a creature that preyed on human beings for food, or would have, had she been less strong-willed. But the real truth was that he knew what he would see would tear him apart.

The smell smacked him as soon as he pushed open the door, ugly, thick, like a rotting frog forgotten on the back shelf of a biology-class closet. He fought the gag reflex and won only by pinching his nostrils hard enough to bring tears to his eyes as he breathed through his mouth. His other hand closed around the spotlight and snapped it on. He regretted it instantly.

The light, bright enough to illuminate a room twice the size of the shelter, showed everything in lurid, horrifying detail. Deb was on the floor, twisted atop a blanket Perlman must have given her, curled protectively as though trying to hide beneath the still-luxurious waves of her hair. Part of her face was visible, as were the hands that clutched her knees against her chest. Alex's breath hitched miserably.

Skin slick and swollen with mottled decay, covered with a fine sheen of noxious-smelling slime, she looked like a melting, unformed fetus.

"Oh, Deb," he whispered. She moaned lightly, as though she'd heard him say her name. Her head turned toward him for a moment, then returned to face the wall; the agony Alex saw there was nearly unbearable. He wanted to sink to his knees and scream, pound on the wall, anything to get this horrible hurt out of him, and even then, how did she feel? Had anyone considered that she might be in pain?

His fists bunched uselessly as she sighed in her sleep; Alex could have sworn she sounded . . . lonely.

He didn't care about the danger when he joined her on the floor, took her in his arms, and rocked her like a baby.