Garris's room reeked of the same smell Fresco remembered from his first visit. Burned flesh, decay and chemicals. His bandages were thinner, less clublike. But it meant it was easier to see the fluids seeping through as his burns continued to weep. Fresco had to look away, only to find his eyes drawn again and again to the rim of pale red and yellow standing out against the white gauze. Fresco adjusted the mask over his face with the thin latex glove, hating the closeness of the ...