short, hysterical laugh that was like a
bark. "You're crazy, Doc. You've completely flipped your lid!"

Dr. Winters nodded. "For hours during the night I was in agreement with
that opinion. When I first observed your wife's condition I was
convinced I was utterly insane. I called in six other men to verify my
observation. All of them were as stupefied as I by what we saw. Organs
that had no place in a human structure. Evidence of a chemistry that
existed in no living being we had ever seen before--"

The Doctor's words rolled over him like a roaring surf, burying,
smothering, destroying--

"I want to see." Mel's voice was like a hollow cough from far away. "I
think you're crazy. I think you're hiding some mistake you made
yourself. You killed Alice in a simple little operation, and now you're
trying to get out of it with some crazy story that nobody on earth would
ever believe!"

"I want you to see," said Dr. Winters, rising slowly. "That's why I
called you in here, Mr. Hastings."

* * * * *

Mel trailed him down the long corridor again. No words were spoken
between them. Mel felt as if nothing were real anymore.

They went through the white doors of Surgery and through the inner
doors. Then they entered a white, silent--cold--room beyond.

In the glare of icy white lights a single sheeted figure rested on a
table. Mel suddenly didn't want to see. But Dr. Winters was drawing back
the cover. He exposed the face, the beloved features of Alice Hastings.
Mel cried out her name and moved toward the table. There was nothing in
her face to suggest she was not simply sleeping, her hair disarrayed,
her face composed and relaxed as he had seen her hundreds of times.

"Can you stand to witness this?" asked Dr. Winters anxiously. "Shall I
get you a sedative?"

Mel shook his head numbly. "No--show me ..."

The great, fresh wound extended diagonally across the abdomen and
branched up beneath the heart. The Doctor grasped a pair of small
scissors and swiftly clipped the temporary sutures. With forceps and
retractors he spread open the massive incision.

Mel closed his eyes against the sickness that seized him.

"Gangrene!" he said. "She's full of gangrene!"

Below the skin, the surface layers of fatty tissue, the substance of the
tissue changed from the dark red of the wounded tissue to a dark and
greenish hue that spoke of deadly decay.

But Dr. Winters was shaking his head. "No. It's