In three quick steps, Eric moved to the television set and turned it on, letting the sound blare out through the apartment. Then, taking Cliff by the hand, he led him into the kitchen, opened a cupboard door, took out a pan, and banged it on the stove. He took the cutters out of his shirt and set them on the table where Cliff had laid out the surgical gloves, scalpel, suturing thread and needles, and syringes. His mind leaped ahead as he saw the things Cliff had pilfered from the hospital, and suddenly he was on his knees, gasping as ribbons of pain sliced through him like fire. Cliff watched him, curious but unmoved.

“Oh baby!” he whispered as it gradually subsided. “One more of those mistakes, and you’ll have the Major and his boys running here on the double. Think of the valley. Think of Becky. Think of anything!”

Breathing heavily, he picked up the nearest syringe and handed it to Cliff, then tore off the top page of the note pad and showed him the second message. YOU WILL GIVE ME THIS SHOT AT THE POINT WHERE MY FINGER IS TOUCHING. Eric lowered his head, touching the back of his neck.

Dutifully Cliff lifted his arms. Eric felt a sharp sting as the local anesthetic was injected under the skin. The pain in his chest and abdomen surged upward again, and he clutched at the chair as he tore off that sheet and held up the next command.

I AM GOING TO GIVE YOU A SHOT IN THE BACK OF YOUR NECK. YOU WILL NOT FEEL ANY PAIN.

Cliff offered not so much as a shrug. And he had no reaction at all when Eric stuck him with the needle.

But Eric was not impervious, and he had to drop onto one of the kitchen chairs, gasping for breath, his face a sheen of cold sweat. He had thought the preliminaries would be easy. What if he blacked out as he was supposed to cut the band? Cliff would go right ahead and yank out the implantation, and that would be it.

Eric shook his head impatiently. Adding worry to guilt would certainly not ease the pain. “It is not wrong,” he muttered fer vently. “Implantation is wrong. It’s good to take it out. What you are doing is not wrong!”

It helped a little, and he stood up again, feeling the time factor squeezing in on them. And all the time, Cliff stood beside him, watching him with a curious detachment while the television blared some inane musical variety show.