And then, slowly, she squeezes till it pops. A little explosion of yellow. A tiny death.
Broken bluebottles and glass.
There’s a mirror mounted on the wall above the sinks. It’s cracked, layered with graffiti. Mimicking the room’s shabby contents: the dirty walls; the streaks of arterial red; the flies; and the thing in the bloodstained orange and black jumpsuit, staring right back…
Broken.
Suddenly everything is still. Even the bluebottles settle, not daring to spoil the moment.
Tears blur her eyes as she finally understands what she has become. The face in the mirror is not the face of a human being, it’s the face of an animal. A killer. A halfhead. No hair, no mind and no lower jaw.
She can’t even scream.
2
‘Control, this is Delta One Four, do you copy?’
‘Affirmative Delta One Four. You are cleared to proceed.’
‘Jacobs, you’re on sweep. Phillips: back door. I’ll take point. On three, two, one…’ The heavy plastic door slammed back against the toilet wall and suddenly the low, stinking room was full of flies. ‘Move! Move! Move!’
Jacobs charged in, his Field Zapper pointing everywhere at once. Out in the corridor Phillips was facing back the way they’d come, covering the entrance. Detective Sergeant Cameron ran into the toilets…then slithered to a halt on the blood-smeared tiles. Seven years with the Bluecoats and she’d never seen anything like this. There was something dark and sticky smeared all over one of the toilet cubicles. It used to be a man.
DS Cameron reached one hand up and keyed the little switch buried beneath the skin of her throat.
‘Control…’ She turned her back on the butchered remains. ‘We’ve got a problem.’
‘Now, can anyone tell me what this is? Anyone? Yes, Sophie?’