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comfortable. Can you do something for those?”
    She stared at him, ice coming off.
    He knew that she hated him. She’d hated him for a long time—for at least as long as she’d felt anything else toward him. This felt fitting to him. It felt deserved.
    “Have you seen it yet?” she asked.
    “Not yet, no. I just landed.”
    “It’s changing.”
    “What do you mean?”
    She was about to say something but stopped. He studied her. An oval face, pretty but too thin. She might have been a model once, if things had gone differently. She had the bones for it. There was a look in her eyes now that he’d never seen.
    “I don’t think you have any idea what you’ve done,” she said.
    “I know better than anyone.”
    “Better than me?”
    Martial took another sip of his drink.
    “You can’t quite bring yourself to claim that, can you?” she asked.
    “Everything happens for a reason.”
    “If you really think that, you’re a fool.”
    There was a time when hearing those words, spoken in that tone, would have driven him into a rage, but now it elicited only the beginnings of a tired irritation. Still, she’d pushed him far enough.
    “Your mouth is not the ocean,” he said. “But still it can drown you.”
    The phone on his desk rang. He didn’t move. He tried to remember if he’d ever heard that phone ring before. He hadn’t realized the apartment even had a phone. After five rings, it stopped.
    A moment later, an alarm began to sound. It came from somewhere in the distance. It wasn’t a fire alarm. The phone rang again.
    “I better get that,” he said.
    He stood and crossed the room.
    He picked up the phone. “Yes?”
    “There is a problem.” It was Scholler.
    “What kind of problem?”
    “You better get down here.”
    “On my way.” Martial hung up and turned to Sacha.
    Just then, a new alarm sounded. Louder, closer.
    Sacha’s smile made Martial think of bitter almonds. “It’s changed,” she said again. “You’ll see.”
    Martial walked out of his quarters. In the hall, a strobe light flashed red. He broke into a run, thousand-dollar shoes on tile floors. He panted as he ran. Within a hundred feet, his lungs spasmed, breaths coming in a series of high-pitched whistles. He slowed but didn’t stop. When God wants you, he will take you.
    Ekman found him in the hall. They ran together. They rounded the bend. It was a nightmare he’d once had. Down two flights of stairs. Lab lights flickering. A dream he woke sweating from. Only in the dream his feet were swollen and sticky, mired to the floor. In the dream, he couldn’t move at all. They pushed through a double set of doors and entered the lab.
    An Asian man stood swaying in the hall, holding an obviously dislocated shoulder. He was in shock, his white lab coat red with gore. From the other side of the wall came the sound of screams.
    “Where are you cut?” Martial asked, catching his breath.
    “I’m not,” the man said.
    Martial’s other two guards burst into the room. Phillips, the youngest, didn’t hesitate. He ran ahead, toward the screams.
    Martial and his remaining guards followed.
    The researcher shouted after them, “Don’t go in there!”
    They pushed through another set of double doors, the word ANTHROPOGENY stenciled across the white surface.
    Inside, a woman clutched at the mangled gore of her wrist. Her hand dangled at an obscene angle. “It bit me … it bit me” was all she could say.
    Farther in were more researchers. He knew some of their names. Others he couldn’t be sure of.
    Behind him, the woman continued, “It bit…”
    Another researcher stood at the shattered glass doors. He didn’t seem hurt, but he looked dazed.
    “What happened?” Martial snapped.
    “A routine examination,” he said. “There was the sound of the helicopter outside. We tried to get it back inside … but it … it didn’t want to go.”
    Martial stepped through the broken glass doors and moved farther into the room. Somewhere,