He could not see.
He could not hear.
There was no time left; his lungs were wrecked, capsized, sinking. He staggered on, nerveless fingers fondling the walls for a guide. He left a trail, four red lines on the metal bulkhead. Whatever they had done to him, it had been bad. He could not see how bad it was, but he could feel. That is why his hands were red.
The hallway went on forever. He had to reach the end. The ship must be turned aside. To think otherwise… he could not think that.
He fell forward...
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