"I think, my boy, we had better understand how things are run around here. When I make a suggestion, it is not really a suggestion. It is an order. And when I give an order, you obey. That way we will all get along much better. Now get up on that table."
Malcolm felt his face growing hot. His shoulder still hurt where Kruger had dug into the nerve. He walked to the table, turned around, and gave a little jump so he was sitting on it.
"That's the idea," Pastory said. "Now lie back, please."
"What for?"
Pastory snapped his head at the big man who was standing by eagerly. "Kruger!"
Before Malcolm knew what was happening, Kruger had pushed him down flat on his back and had buckled a strap around one of his wrists. He flailed out with his free hand.
"Cut it out!" he yelled.
Kruger drew back a massive arm and cracked the back of his hand against Malcolm's cheek. Malcolm tasted blood. His eyesight blurred for a moment and there seemed to be an edge of fire around everything. There was a strange growling sound in his ears, and Malcolm was surprised to realize it came from his own throat.
Pastory hurried over to the table. "Did you see that? Wonderful! Get the other hand strapped down, Kruger. And his feet. Quickly!"
As the doctor peered down on him Malcolm's flash of anger drained away, to be replaced by a numb feeling of hopelessness.
"There, he's changing back now," Pastory said. "But did you see it, Kruger? Did you see what happened to his face?"
"It looked funny there for a minute. Like his teeth were too big for his mouth, or something."
"Or something!" Pastory repeated. He leaned very close to Malcolm, took his chin in one hand, and turned his head this way and that. His breath had a minty smell.
"Are you all right now, Malcolm?" he asked.
"I want to get up."
"In time, my boy. In time. Tell me what you felt just then, when you tried to get at Kruger."
"I-I was mad. He shouldn't have hit me."
"No, you're quite right. I'll see that it doesn't happen again."
Pastory walked back to the counter and began to write furiously in a hardbound notebook. He spoke more to himself than to the others in the room. "It appears that anger triggers the change. I wonder if other powerful emotions will have the same effect. We will have to look into that."
He returned to the table. "Open your mouth, please."
Malcolm hesitated.
"It's only a thermometer. See? All I want to do is take your temperature. Now open, please."
Reluctantly Malcolm obeyed, and the doctor slipped the glass tube expertly under his tongue.
"I am going to take a sample of your blood now. A very small bit, Malcolm. You'll never miss it."
The boy watched as Pastory inserted the hollow needle into a vein on the inside of his elbow and drew crimson fluid up into the cylinder.
"There now." The doctor withdrew the needle and taped a wad of cotton over the tiny hole it left. He took the thermometer out of Malcolm's mouth and examined it. "A touch above normal. Nothing to be concerned about."
"Can I get up now?" Malcolm said.
"Very soon, my boy. There is just one more shot now, one that will relax you and make you feel good. Then we'll get you up and get you something to eat."
Pastory gave him the needle in the shoulder, then backed away, looking very pleased with himself. "You just relax for a minute or so, Malcolm. I want to go and check some references. If you need anything, just tell Kruger here. Okay?"
Malcolm rolled his head to look at the doctor, but he did not answer. A heavy feeling was spreading through his body. He did not want to do much of anything.
As soon as Pastory went out and closed the door, Kruger came over and stared down into the boy's face. The man's heavy features were twisted in open hostility.
"You'd better not do anything like that to me again," he said.
"Didn't do anything." It was an effort for Malcolm to get the words out.
"You know what I'm talking about. That thing you did with your face and your teeth. I don't care what the doctor says. You'd better behave or I'll hurt you."
The big man talked to him some more, but Malcolm floated off to a warm, cozy place where the words made no sense.
After that, time had little meaning for Malcolm. He knew he was being measured and weighed, prodded and pricked, tested, retested, fed, and purged. He did not care about any of it. Sometimes he would be left alone and Kruger would be there. The big man glowered at him constantly and made threats, but Malcolm had no energy to respond.
The worst part was when he was strapped to the table. Then Pastory would do things to him that he didn't like to think about. Things with little electric wires and such. Sometimes the doctor made it very cold in the laboratory, sometimes unbearably hot. He was always writing in his book, looking very excited. With the drug in him, Malcolm couldn't care.
Then Dr. Pastory made a mistake with one of the shots he regularly gave Malcolm. The boy moved his arm just as the needle went in, and the drug squirted harmlessly onto his sleeve. So intent was Pastory on watching Malcolm's face that he did not see. When he went away Malcolm could feel himself growing steadily stronger and more alert.
Later that night - or maybe it was day, Malcolm could never be sure - Kruger came into his room. The boy saw him but pretended to be asleep.
"You awake?" Kruger demanded. "Yeah, I can see you are. Come on, it's time to get you up and get you dressed." He started toward the boy.
"Don't touch me," Malcolm said. "Keep away."
"Listen, you don't tell me what to do and what not to do. Maybe you need to be reminded of who's boss around here." Kruger lumbered over to the bed, reached down, and seized Malcolm's wrist.
A dull anger pushed its way into the boy's clearing mind, but he still did not have the strength to pull away.
Gripping Malcolm's wrist with one hand, Kruger pulled a cigarette lighter from his pocket with the other. He snapped on the flame and brought it slowly up under the boy's palm.
The sensation of heat quickly grew into pain. It brought back terrible memories of a night of flames and screaming and the stench of burning flesh. The flesh of his people.
In a sudden convulsive movement, Malcolm snapped his head to one side and clamped his teeth on the hairy wrist of the man who held him. The skin broke easily, and he worked his jaws from side to side, biting through the tougher muscle meat. His tongue felt the slick, ropy tendons through the taste of blood.
Kruger's scream shattered around his head like breaking glass. The cigarette lighter dropped to the floor. Malcolm bit down harder, finding a wild joy in the sensation of sinking his teeth into living flesh.
"Kruger!" The shout came from Dr. Pastory, who had run into the room in response to the big man's cry.
"Get him off me!" Kruger shrieked, trying to pull his arm free.
Malcolm, eyes closed in a kind of ecstasy, bit down all the harder. He felt bones grind against his teeth.
There was a short, sharp stab in the back of his neck, and Malcolm recognized it as the jab of a needle. Instantly he lost feeling in his face. His jaw muscles slackened and Kruger pulled his lacerated arm free.
"Look what that little son of a bitch did to me! Look at my arm! I'll kill the little bastard!"
"Shut up, Kruger."
Malcolm watched dully as Dr. Pastory pulled his assistant away and looked at his arm.
"He took quite a chunk out of you," Pastory said.
"Damn near bit through the bone. Will it get infected or anything?"
"I'll dress it for you in a minute. What I want to know is, what did you do to provoke him?"
"Nothing. I didn't do nothing."
Pastory stooped and picked something off the floor. "What's this?"
"My lighter. I-I must have dropped it."
"Don't lie to me, Kruger. Don't ever lie to me. You know all I have to do is say the word to have you put back in the bad place."