Milo
TWO MONTHS LATER
It’s been two months since Fallon cut the monster down to size. Two months since I took Igor’s arms—one at a time.
She never told us why. She never screamed. She never cried. She just said, “Take his arms. But he lives.”
And I did.
God help me, I did.
I’ll never forget the first time. How I clamped the tourniquet just above his elbow. How he fought so hard I thought he’d rip his own arm off when I saw the leather straps start cutting into his skin. Dr. Stevens was there, white-knuckled and swearing under his breath. Still, he did it, kept the man alive while I carved the limb off. The smell… Jesus, the smell of his flesh burning as Dr. Steven’s cauterized it.
He lost so much blood we had to run two transfusions that night, he bled like a stuck pig.
When I went
