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fitfully, yet remained asleep, completely unaware of my presence. But she could be roused awake. I'd made sure of that before picking her.
    A cold loathing seeped through me.
    I stepped over to the IV line that kept her hydrated and got to work. Even though she might die as a result of the drugs I would give her, I held with techniques instilled by years of practice and sterilized the side port with an alcohol swab so as not to risk infection. The maneuver also allowed me to think I'd given the subjects their best chance should they survive. Somehow that indulgence made it easier to get through what I did to them.
    I pulled out the first of the two syringes I'd brought, removed the cap, and jabbed it in.
    Slowly I began to empty half the contents, fifty milligrams of esmolol, a potent, short-acting drug that doctors used to lower pulse and pressure. It would bring her into a state of near shock. With my free hand I gently reached for her wrist and monitored her pulse with my fingers. The skin already felt clammy. She gave no reaction to my touch.
    The beat slowed and grew weaker, then disappeared altogether, as it usually did once the systolic pressure fell below 90. Shifting my hand to her neck, I palpated for the carotid artery.
    She stirred in protest and made little cries that sounded like mewing.
    Ignoring her, I picked up the throb of the larger vessel, then continued the injection until that impulse nearly disappeared as well, which meant her pressure had fallen to just above 60.
    I quickly switched syringes, and slowly gave the second ingredient, a hundred milligrams of ketamine. Normally used to induce awake anesthesia, this agent would also offset the fall in pulse and blood pressure, though not enough to reverse the near shock state. But what I really used it for had to do with a unique side effect: the blockade of certain neuroreceptors in the brain.
    I finished delivering the dose, capped and pocketed both syringes so there'd be no accidents if she struggled- I'd taken that precaution ever since the Algreave woman- and waited a minute by my watch, giving time for the ketamine to have its full effect.
    It felt like an hour.
    The woman's breathing seemed to grow deafening as sputum rattled deep in her airway. In a treatment situation I would have suctioned her out to prevent her from choking on her own spit, an act of basic nursing. Instead I switched on the microcassette, shook her, and whispered, "Can you hear me?"
    She moaned.
    "Can you hear me?" I repeated.
    Her reply was little more than a breath. But I could make it out.
    "Yes," she said.
    Show time.
    I took the microcassette out of my pocket, brought it close to her mouth, and began to coax her along with the usual questions, following my format in the same methodical way a doctor would take a medical history.
    "Any more pain?"
    "No…"
    "Do you see anything?"
    "No…"
    "Look harder."
    Her gravelly, faint voice seemed to exhale from a corpse.
    After a few minutes more she abruptly released a shrill cry, and her limbs thrashed about under the bedclothes.
    "There're worms…"
    "What?"
    "They're all over me…"
    "What are?"
    "Oh, God, help me…"
    "Take it easy."
    "They're under my skin…"
    "No, they're not."
    "In my mouth… my nose…"
    "You're imagining-"
    "… behind my eyes… coming in through my ears…"
    "Stop it!"
    "They're eating me…" Her voice became a high-pitched shriek, piercing the dark like the cry of a hawk.
    I snatched the syringe of ketamine from my pocket, plunged it into her IV, and pushed the plunger, giving her another twenty milligrams.
    The scream died in her throat.
    When they talked of heaven, it all sounded the same. But each one had a unique vision of hell.
    I listened for the approach of running feet.
    None came.
    Would she remember? Most didn't. But some did, and that could be trouble. Already the nurses were starting to talk.
    Anyway, I had enough material from her.
    Snapping off the microcassette and retrieving the syringe, I