Carter held his handkerchief to his face and hurried
through the coughing bunkhouse, eyes on the floor, and not for the first time
cursed the architectural and bureaucratic incompetence that forced him to walk daily
through that repository of the diseased. Some instinct made him look up. There was a
narrow, sickly-shouldered man walking towards him. When they were closer,
Carter observed a face replete with alien features. The man’s large, bulging
eyes seemed to be looking in opposite directions and weird flaps of skin hung
under either side of his jaw. He held a strange idol between wet-looking
fingers.
No comments:
Post a Comment