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She’d sent in a nurse the last three times I’d asked her to help me get to the bathroom and hand me a fresh hydropod. But this time I waited, only to be greeted by silence.

“Doc?” I called again.

A crash and shuffling came from beyond the doors. I tensed. A familiar snarl followed, throwing my heart into overdrive.

I pushed the release on the tank and held my breath as the liquid inside drained out. The top popped open, and I finally pulled my arm free, wiggling my intact fingers. There was no time to marvel at the smooth flesh that should’ve been a mess of scars and grafts. I’d been lucky, and I knew it. All I had now was a sore shoulder. That I could deal with. I’d had worse.

It’d taken less than a minute to free myself, and I’d heard only silence since.

“Doc?’ I called again, standing and searching for my clothes. I spotted a shirt and jeans in the corner and would have smiled if I weren’t on such high alert. Rosi must have thought ahead and left them for me. I snatched the microchip still on the silver tray on impulse and shoved it in the pocket of the still folded pants. Glancing around for something I could use as a weapon, I came up empty but assured myself the growl was probably nothing more than PTSD hallucination from my attack in the tundra.

I was still snapping my jeans when I rushed out the door and stopped dead. Streaks of shining red splattered in droplets, like someone popped a water balloon in the middle of the office. Only this wasn’t water in the balloon. I was pretty sure the shining scarlet painting the walls, desk, and doors was blood.

The sounds I’d heard weren’t in my head. They’d been real, and I was too late to try and help.

Breathing deeply, I inched forward to peer behind the desk where the chair was pulled away like the doc had stood up to greet someone. Or something.

I hadn’t even heard a scream, that was how fast it must have happened. Was the doctor still alive somewhere? Judging by the amount of splatter, I doubted it. My stomach turned as I spotted what looked like a finger in the corner beside the desk. I gagged and nearly vomited but held it together as I lifted my wristcom.

“Nicole Bennet,” I said. “Emergency. Nicole!”

“I’m here, Austin. What’s happening?”

“I think the doctor is dead.”

Silence for a moment, then, “Why?”

“There’s a lot of blood, too much for one person to lose and be okay. And I heard it—the snarling and scratching.”

“What did you hear, Austin?” Nicole demanded.

I swallowed back the bile that still fought to come up. “The thing that attacked me. It’s inside the resort.”