Locicault was twenty-three years of age.
His mouth was toothless. Hanging open helplessly, it revealed his ugly, blackened gums. His skull was hairless, with ears that were large and malformed, and his nose, too, was enlarged. The repulsive skin dangled in loose, sagging wrinkles. Pouches hung slack on his naked skull.
Court went to the window and drew down the shades. In the gloom a queer, silvery light was visible at once. It came from the patient's face!
Court stripped off the covers, exposing Locicault's gaunt, nude body. Like the ghastly face, it gleamed with a silvery radiance that did not pulse or wane, but remained steady.
"Locicault," Court called out sharply.
When he gripped the thin shoulder, the man shuddered convulsively and his eyes opened.
They were not human eyes. They were pools of white radiance, like shining smoke in eye-sockets.
"Locicault, can you hear me?" Court asked quietly.
A cracked whisper came from the withered lips.
"Yes… Yes, m'sieu."
"Can you see me?"
"I can—No, m'sieu, not with my eyes. I am blind—but I can see you, somehow—"
Court frowned, puzzled, as he pondered the weird reply.
"What do you see?"
"You are covered with—armor, I think. I do not know how I can tell this. I am blind…"
"I am a doctor," Court said. "If you can talk without pain, I want you to answer some questions."
"Out, m'sieu. Bien."
"Are you in pain?"
"No—Yes. I am hungry. It is strange. I am hungry and thirsty, but I do not want food. Something I do not understand—"
Court waited for him to continue. When Locicault did not, he went on with another line of reasoning.
"Tell me about this fog."
"There is not much to tell," Locicault said painfully. "When I left my home, I could not find my way. The fog was so heavy—and its smell was not right."
Stephen's eyes sparkled with interest under the thick mask.
"How did it smell? What did it remind you of?"
"I don't know. Wait! Once I was in the big power-house at the dam, and it smelled like that—"
Ozone? Court shook his head.
"Well?" he urged.
"The fog was cold at first, and then it seemed to grow warmer. I had the strange feeling it was getting inside of me. My lungs began to burn like fire. My heart beat faster. I was hungry, yet I had just eaten. . Doctor," Locicault said suddenly, without moving, "I am changing—more and more. When it started, I did not change much, but now—I feel like something that is not a man. Can you hear my voice?"
"Yes," Court soothed.
"That is odd. My mind is so wonderfully clear, but my senses—I do not seem to hear with my ears, nor speak with my tongue. I feel strong, though—and hungry—"
His scrawny head slumped, and Court saw that he had lost consciousness.
Whistling softly, with grim abstraction, Court returned to the main hospital where the others waited. Doffing his suit, he questioned Granger.
"It's progressive, isn't it? Doesn't the radiation get stronger?"'
"Why, yes," the physician replied. "For a time, anyway. Locicault was fearfully hungry. His metabolism was high, and this radiation got stronger every time we fed him. Yesterday, though, he refused to eat."
"But he's hungry," Stephen protested.
"So he says, and still he won't eat. The radiation is much fainter now."
"I see," Court muttered. "Get me a guinea-pig, will you? A rabbit will do just as well, if you don't have a guinea-pig. I want to try something."
Putting on the armor again and carrying a wriggling guinea-pig, Court went back to the patient. Locicault was still unconscious. For the first time, Court hesitated, staring at the pale aura surrounding Locicault's body. Then he slowly extended the guinea-pig till its furry side touched the patient's hand.
Gently the weak, bony fingers constricted. Closing upon the tiny animal, they did not harm it though it struggled frantically to escape.
The little beast went limp, seemed, amazingly, to grow smaller. Swiftly the phosphorescent gleam surrounding Locicault grew brighter.
"So that's the way!" Court muttered under his breath.
He disengaged the guinea-pig from the skeleton fingers and examined the animal. It was dead, as he had expected. Court silently returned to the others.
"You haven't been feeding him the right way," he explained, struggling out of the armor. He gave it to the Granger, who put it on. "Locicault is changing, slowly and steadily, into some form of life that is definitely not human. At first he ate normally, though in vast quantity.
"As his basic matter altered, Locicault lost the power to absorb food as we do, internally. He gets the energy direct— like a vampire, to put it melodramatically. He will kill any living being that touches him."
"Good God!" Granger cried in a shocked voice. "We can't let him live, Court!"
"We must, because I need him. I have to study the course of the plague in its natural progress. Locicault must be fed whatever he needs now—rabbits, guinea-pigs, and so on. I shall take him to my home as soon as the special ambulance gets here."
Sammy shuffled forward, wide-eyed with fear, but desperately stern.
"Stevie, don't take any chances."
Court ignored the old man as he ignored everyone else when his mind was absorbed.
"Marion, unpack my equipment. The ambulance should be here by tomorrow or the next day. In the meantime, I want to check every angle. Be sure that there's a supply of small animals for the patient. I don't know yet how much energy he needs, but he's broadcasting it at a terrific rate."
Granger, clumsy in the lead suit, already left the room. Court looked at his watch.
"Lucky I got here in time. If Locicault had died—"
"Can you save him?" she asked eagerly.
"Of course not! I don't want to, even if I could. I want to stop the plague, and to do that, I must watch it run its course in a test subject. Locicault happens to be the only one we know about. There may be new cases at any time, but I can't afford to wait. For all I know, there may never be another case till the final crack-up. Then it will be too late to do anything."
"What do you intend?" Marion asked, trying to hide her disappointment.
"I shall take Locicault back home with me, keep him in isolation, and feed him whatever may be necessary. Eventually the plague will run its course. Locicault may not die, but he may have to be destroyed."
The door slammed open. Granger burst into the room, ripped off the lead suit. His gnomish face was gray with horror.
"Court, he's dead!"
"What?" Court's jaw trembled with indecision. "No, he can't be. It's unconsciousness—" But already he was snatching the suit from Granger. "Get me adrenaline, quick, another guinea-pig!"
They sprang to obey. Bearing his equipment, Court raced away. The minutes ticked slowly past, lagging unendurably. At last he came back, his shoulders slumped.
"You're right, Granger," he muttered. "Locicault's dead. I was too late."
"You—" the physician hesitated, biting his lips in helplessness. "You'll want to have an autopsy?"
"No, it's no use. I must watch the progress of the plague on a living being. A corpse is no good for my purposes. I must wait. . Perhaps the plague will strike again. I—I don't know."
Court went to the window and looked out, his back to the others.
"Take precautions with the burial," he said after a time speaking in a strange, tight voice. "The contagion can still be spread. No one must touch him without lead-armor. You will cremate him, of course."
Marion came across the room to stand beside him.
"You're not giving up, are you?" she whispered.