Red was never so ugly. It was blinding. The vast and intricate patterns glistening under the bright lights confused thought. It seemed to jam synaptic pathways leaving the brain with only one concept scratched out in three ragged letters: red.

Gazing through the Observation Center window was like looking down a deep well—a fathomless pit, whose sheer depth created a vortex threatening to suck everything down into its abyss.

A fuzzy static filled R.J.'s head, like waking up to the TV blaring a dead station.  Too many people were talking at once.  The voices were impossible to pick apart and he didn't want to separate them.  He didn't want to hear them.  If he did, he would have to do something.

It was Barbara Gracie, who finally cut through the fog. Her words stood out clear over the rest, perhaps because she was speaking so reasonably. She almost sounded compassionate, which was as shocking as a splash of cold water against his face.

"You better get her out of there," she said. "You don't want her to wake up to that."

R.J. nodded. Pivoting his neck was exhausting.  It took the same effort as hiking in high altitudes.

"Okay, I'll get her out of there," Kelman said. The technician was actually volunteering to go in. It seemed outlandish, but it was a godsend that his nervous disposition created a need to do something. "Where should we put her? In one of the offices?"

Where could they put her? There was no infirmary in the bunker. No bedrooms. They needed to find a place to clean Amy up and somewhere to contain her afterward. Perhaps the lunchroom? R.J. wished Maxwell was there. He didn't like having to explain the decision to remove her after the fact. He could only imagine what Wiley would say about taking her out of the secure environment.

A memory of something Maxwell had said slammed into his head and snapped him completely out of his stupor. He turned away from the scene of carnage and addressed the staff.

"No." The word was so forceful that every conversation stopped and all eyes turned to him. "Put her in the wolf enclosure."

"Why there?" Horus spoke up from his seat in the back. A beige cloth bandage covered the right side of his forehead. Sometime, much later, R.J. would have to ask him about it. "I mean, that bedroom won't be in any shape for her to go back to for some time. And she hates being in the wolf room."

The point was valid. She was going to be traumatized enough without being imprisoned in the stark pen for days or weeks. But he couldn't tell Horus and the others about the security precaution that would incinerate everything in the portal if she was inside when it sealed.

Instead, he said, "She's not to leave the containment area. There's a full moon tonight? And after this..." He waved at the window but kept his eyes away from it. "We're not taking any chances."

The detail of the full moon filtered up just when he needed it. And that thought led to another one: how did she change when the moon was still so far from being full?

"Kelman, I want you and O'Bree to get suited up and move her. Aikman stay at the consol. If she stirs before they get her into the other room, I want you to gas the place. I don't want her conscious when anyone is with her. Dr. Gracie. I need you suited up too. She'll need to be examined after they clean the blood off her."

"Certainly."

"Kendrick and Paulson, look around. Try to find something for a bed. There are some new mats and clean linens in the storeroom perhaps you can get a desk or a table to put it on to make it more comfortable."

Paulson's sour gnome-like face twisted into a frown. "Damn it, Blass. I'm a doctor, not an errand boy."

"I said, go!"

Paulson saw something in R.J.'s face that stopped him from arguing and got his feet moving toward the door.

"Good God." Maxwell charged into the OC, pushing past Paulson. His face was slick with sweat, as though he ran all the way to the bunker.

"Where the hell have you been?" Now that R.J. was yelling, he didn't seem able to stop.

"Easy. I got here as fast as I could."

Emily wavered on her way out the door, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine." Maxwell looked down and buttoned his sport coat.

Gracie turned on him. "I agree with R.J. I'd like to know where you've been. None of us had a problem getting here."

At 7:00 a.m., Emily came in for the morning shift and sounded the general alarm, bringing every member of the Music Box in. They were all there in less than twenty minutes except Wiley.

The same thought seemed to be going through everyone's head and the chatter started up again as they all started talking overwhelming the confined room.

Maxwell put a quick end to it by screaming, "Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?"

No one wanted to be the one to say it. They began to find little details fascinating—a black smudge on the wall, a scuff on the toe of a shoe, an uneven cuticle.

R.J. cleared his throat. It was his responsibility to tell Wiley. "She changed. Somehow she took on the lycanthrope form. And it appears that Haddad entered the enclosure with her." And it was his responsibility for what happened. Hadn't Horus warned him? Hadn't he told Jamie to go be her friend? He practically pushed him in there.

"Why on Earth would he do that?" Maxwell made his way to the window, as though he needed to see it for himself. He didn't blanch at the sight. Perhaps he kept his composure because of the tight control he had over his emotions or maybe it was because of the things he'd seen in the war. Whatever it was, he coolly surveyed the scene of total horror.

The once pink bedroom looked like it had gone through a cyclone. The furniture was destroyed. Chunks of mattress were everywhere. The individual coils were scattered across the ground. Their thin cotton sheathing soaked red. Fluffs of foam scattered around and stuck to floor and walls with the glue of human blood. Amy lay naked in the corner curled into the fetal position. Slick with drying blood, she looked like a large newborn. Her face was peaceful and a fist loosely pressed against her chin.

There was no sign of Jamie Haddad other than the plasma that bathed the room. Or that's how it appeared at first. When R.J. had looked in, it had taken him ages before he spotted the skull with half its flesh torn off. There was also something else by the broken remains of the dresser that was heavily coated in gore but had a faint resemblance to a spinal column.

Maxwell's only sign of distress was a measured breath before he spoke again. "How could she do this?"

"I have no idea. The moon was only at ninety-six percent last night. She's only ever changed when it's been ninety-eight or higher. Maybe it was an anomaly. Maybe as she matures it takes less of the moon's effect to trigger the lycanthropy. Or perhaps she can..."

"Change on her own now." Gracie finished for him and echoed the fears of everyone in the room.

"Could she really do that?"  Maxwell's eyes betrayed his calm. He no longer looked unaffected by the killing.

R.J. shrugged. "it's a possibility. But we have no proof of anything right now."

"And Haddad? Why would he go in there with that thing?"

"The security footage showed that she only changed after Jamie entered the portal." Emily spoke up and stepped back into the room. She had gone through the tapes while waiting for the others to arrive. "He probably didn't know what he was walking into."

"That idiot." Wiley wasn't being insulting or critical if anything there was only regret in his voice.

Kelman activated the portal. The lights flashed on the control panel and two suited figures entered the slaughterhouse.

Before Maxwell could ask about it, R.J. said, "We're moving her to contain the situation. We'll keep her in the pen until we can clean up. We're going to have to do something with the remains."

Then in the understatement of the morning, Maxwell finally issued his verdict on the situation: "This is really bad."