I had never seen anything quite so horrible. Embedded in Darnel's flesh was a huge, faintly luminous grub, its rudimentary mouth-parts obscurely visible beneath the drum-tight skin over his breastbone.
His hands closed and unclosed as I stared down at him. His forehead was drenched with sweat and he writhed as though in unbearable anguish, a hectic flush suffusing his cheeks.
My throat felt hot and swollen but I managed to whisper: "Darnel. Darnel, my lad."
Slowly his eyelids flickered open and he stared up at me, a grimace of agony convulsing his haggard features.
"Nothing seems quite real, sir," he groaned. "Except—the pain."
"Is it very bad?"
"I'm in agony, sir. I can't stand it much longer. It's as though a heated iron were resting on my chest."
"Where did that wasp take you?"
"Into the chart room, sir. When I struggled in the web it carried me into the chart room and stung me again."
I swallowed hard. "Did you experience any pain before that, lad?"