Maybe it was best I didn’t hold his hand.
“Come on, Palmer,” I said.
Back still arched, Palmer hissed, “Redding.”
I barely stopped myself from leaning closer. “I’m here, Palmer.”
Palmer’s left hand released the deck, making this weird looping swipe at the air.
The motion sent shivers down my spine.
“Security Third Redding.” The inflectionless words, as if Palmer was typing the words into a primitive speech synthesizer, chilled my marrow. “Remove yourself from proximity.” A thin electronic whine swelled behind his words. “Immediate. Threat. Control.”
Palmer’s voice spiraled into a familiar, dreadful, impossible shriek.
32Despite the hot, muggy, and now smoky air of Ring One, despite the oppressive weight, my blood ran cold.
Palmer went limp and collapsed against the deck, hitting a
