Apparently in accordance with previous instruction, Trainor and his
helper began jostling us viciously but expertly, making it appear as
though we were trying to escape. Before we realized our danger, we
heard a cry of warning from the sheriff and a vindictive shout from
Thurlow. It still rings in our ears.
"Do your duty, Trainor. They're escaping!"
Trainor's reflexes jarred him into action and it was over for us almost
before it began. It hurt then, but the pain is worse now and total
blackness is closing in once more. Fighting it off gets increasingly
difficult, alone as I am.
You see, Donald has just died, quietly. He's escaped them, but that
leaves the fight to me. It won't last long. The load is too much for
one alone. The one bright feature is the fact that our work was begun.
Stay with it, darling, and carry on for us--please know that you had
all our love.
Goodbye, Princess.
* * * * *
_Almost exactly one minute later they arrived at the hospital. I
was so numb with grief and sorrow that I didn't withdraw contact,
hoping against hope that they, he, would transmit once more. He did,
unconsciously. Seconds later the words of two interns drifted through
his open mind to mine._
* * * * *
"One D. O. A., one dying fast. My God, Rex, why couldn't they leave the
poor devils alone? Why couldn't they--"
Rex sounded bitter. "You know the answer to that, Tom. They were
different so they didn't belong."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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