Leon was drenched in cold sweat, the thin medical tunic plastered to his skin like a second layer of flesh. But that wasn't what stole his breath.
He saw himself not in the small room Hayes took him to, but in a white room, larger, circular, and also crowded with people.
Men and women whose faces were obscured by clear visors and surgical masks stood in a silent ring around the bed the boy had just jolted awake on, wearing crisp white lab coats.
They watched him in a motionless manner, gloves covering their raised hands.
Leon's skin crawled, then prickled. He tilted his head toward his own arms, his chest, and his legs.
Thin, glistening needles, hundreds of them, protruded from his skin like metallic hairs, making his mouth forget how to close.
With shock filling him like water, Leon blinked, then traced the spiderweb of fine, colorful wires that were connected to the needles.
