She decided she must. She couldn't continue on a mission in this fog of incomprehension.
"Perry," she said. "Stop."
"No," replied Perry. "Not yet."
"PERRY! I'm not moving another step until you tell me what's going on!" exclaimed Kelly.
Perry shouldered his bag, sighed, and set a timer on his phone. "You have exactly two minutes, Kelly. Ask me your questions and we'll get moving again."
"Who was that man?" asked Kelly.
"Another of Van Holt's patients. Like you. Like me," replied Perry.
"Perry, what happened to him?!" shouted Kelly.
"His skin exploded, Kelly. Van Holt calls it 'molting'," explained Perry. "And please keep your voice down."
"WHY?" shouted Kelly.
Perry leveled his gaze. "Because you don't want to wake him."
"WAKE him?!" Kelly was beyond the point of incomprehension now — into an uncharted land of bewilderment. "He's dead!"
Perry pointed back towards the storage shed. A lumbering figure approached. "You sure about that, Kelly?"
Kelly spun and saw the stranger, still wearing the flag emblem, but now seemingly devoid of humanity. With no wasted motion, Perry lowered his bag, extracted a grenade, pulled the pin, and threw it expertly towards the ... man? The thing? The noun didn't matter. After the explosion, the threat was in a thousand pieces.
"WHAT was THAT?" shouted Kelly.
"Our doctor calls it 'ubervanholtiphage'. It's an engineered virus." Perry smiled grimly. "I guess he got tired of playing just with toys."
"Is it contagious?" asked Kelly.
"I don't know. And I don't know how long ago he was exposed." Perry paused. "Or ... if you and I were. Only Van Holt would know."
"Perry," she said. "Stop."
"No," replied Perry. "Not yet."
"PERRY! I'm not moving another step until you tell me what's going on!" exclaimed Kelly.
Perry shouldered his bag, sighed, and set a timer on his phone. "You have exactly two minutes, Kelly. Ask me your questions and we'll get moving again."
"Who was that man?" asked Kelly.
"Another of Van Holt's patients. Like you. Like me," replied Perry.
"Perry, what happened to him?!" shouted Kelly.
"His skin exploded, Kelly. Van Holt calls it 'molting'," explained Perry. "And please keep your voice down."
"WHY?" shouted Kelly.
Perry leveled his gaze. "Because you don't want to wake him."
"WAKE him?!" Kelly was beyond the point of incomprehension now — into an uncharted land of bewilderment. "He's dead!"
Perry pointed back towards the storage shed. A lumbering figure approached. "You sure about that, Kelly?"
Kelly spun and saw the stranger, still wearing the flag emblem, but now seemingly devoid of humanity. With no wasted motion, Perry lowered his bag, extracted a grenade, pulled the pin, and threw it expertly towards the ... man? The thing? The noun didn't matter. After the explosion, the threat was in a thousand pieces.
"WHAT was THAT?" shouted Kelly.
"Our doctor calls it 'ubervanholtiphage'. It's an engineered virus." Perry smiled grimly. "I guess he got tired of playing just with toys."
"Is it contagious?" asked Kelly.
"I don't know. And I don't know how long ago he was exposed." Perry paused. "Or ... if you and I were. Only Van Holt would know."
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