Caine writhed upon the table in the Lab. The muscles in his neck corded and strained against his flesh, feeling as though they were trying to rip their way out of him. Liquid fire was running through his veins, scalding him from the inside out.
Throughout it all, the doctors in white watched dispassionately, some scribbling down an occasional note.
At last, the storm of agony passed. Caine's arching back slammed back down upon the table. He tried to suck down deep gulps of air, but his body would not take in more than thin, rattling gasps.
He was cold all over. His eyelids fluttered and he felt unconsciousness creeping over him.
'Yes,' Caine thought weakly. 'Please, let me pass out. Please.'
If he did, he knew he would probably not wake up alive. But that was all right. He would
