The only hint that she was experiencing severe anxiety was her thought process. She recognized the rapid thought transitions, moving from one horrid topic to the next, seeing every gruesome detail of friends' deaths, imaginary dangers and painful memories exaggerated to the point of hysteria. But she felt no pain in her chest. Her throat never closed.

This anxiety attack was something new. Something she had never experienced or even heard of before. She wasn't sure if it was the extraordinary circumstances that had brought on the attack or the unusual stress of the last few days, but something was affecting her mind in a wildly different way.

Catatonic anxiety.

In many ways, what she experienced seemed a welcome change to the panic she normally felt. This was more subdued. A motionless lump would be hard pressed to make a fool of itself; like she had earlier, when she had turned into a sobbing, hysterical harpy in front of Robert and Willard.

For the first time since her attack began, she felt pain. It streaked across her chest like a razor's edge. And then it was gone.

As though waking from a dream, Connelly's world transformed. A brilliant blue light filled her eyes. After the long minutes of darkness it was like staring into a brilliant azure star. She clenched her eyes shut as her body hovered in mid air for a moment. Then she collapsed onto what felt like a thick rug.

Her first glimpse of the surreal new surroundings left Connelly feeling oddly far from home. True, she had never been further from home, but she couldn't find a single Earthly reference to describe what she was seeing. The floor, which she saw first, was thickly padded with sunflower yellow filaments that looked like billions of bright caterpillars standing on end. The growth covered every inch of the chamber's floor, like wall to wall carpeting.

It was the walls of the room that caught and held her attention next. Every inch of every wall, minus the three exits, was coated in gently undulating Europhids. But these Europhids were unlike any she had seen. They were immense, four foot long rods of gelatinous flesh. Their size alone wasn't what impressed Connelly the most, it was their color. Each Europhid radiated a cerulean glow. The blue coloration varied from organism to organism, giving the walls a varied and stunning texture. "Comfortable" was the only word Connelly could think of to describe the walls. She wanted to crawl into them and fall asleep.

As though a drain had been pulled on Connelly's anxiety reserves, she felt swirls of tension slide down her body and exit through her toes. She felt her muscles relax to the point of not being to hold her torso away from the floor.

The draining anxiety became dammed up instantly when Connelly caught a glimmer of shifting light in the glow of her head lamp. A subtle shift of color that appeared and then faded away again.