Blood spurted brightly from Walker’s severed throat, piping in quarts down over the buglike pincer. It ran up the long extension of the arm, but by the time it reached what was left of Snow’s body, the thing lay motionless on the floor. Clouds of wet steam rose from the hardened cracks of half-solidified armor, and it didn’t move again.

The last thing Mike saw before he turned away was Dr. Walker’s body as it fell forward, into the grip of the thing’s arm.

That was how Mike left them, as he turned to find his own family, huddled beneath the table.

CHAPTER 55

55.

Little by little Mike herded them toward the door. Lifting Sarah in one arm and Eli in the other, he carried them up the stairs. The keys were in his hand. He knew the world he’d find outside would be the one he’d known, the place that he and his family called home.

For the first time in three years Mike Hughes left Tanglewood Memorial Hospital without punching the time clock.

His shift was over.

CHAPTER 56

56.

Calhoun’s key turned in the lock without resistance. Outside, the night sky was clear enough that he could count the stars. After helping his wife and son over the steps, Mike looked up and saw the parking lots and the woods beyond it.

That’s our lives out there, he thought, a little deranged. The notion inspired a simultaneous outburst of hope and open-ended apprehension.

“Mike?” Sarah looked at him weakly. “Can we get out of here?”

“Right now.” And he remembered the car keys, downstairs with the rest of the belongings.

“It’s all right.” She opened her hand, revealing the key ring she had left down in MRI, the keys that had brought her back the first time. “I’ve got them.”

“That’s good then.”

By the time they got to the car, he thought the boy had fallen asleep, but Eli was awake and watching them.

Mike kissed his cheek. A dazed vision of the future wafted into his mind, the three of them living somewhere else, perhaps up north. Mike would work strict daylight hours at an outpatient facility. There would be no midnight shift, no three a. m. calls, no empty hallways, no half-empty beds. He would be home every night for dinner. When Eli got older he’d help him with his homework. He would take him to swim lessons and go trick-or-treating on Halloween. If Eli asked questions about what had happened on this night, Mike would do his best to answer them, but he would never bring the subject up himself. He and Sarah would not speak of it, either, not if they could help it.