Dr. Winters nodded. "For hours during the night I was in agreement with that opinion. When I first observed your wife's condition I was convinced I was utterly insane. I called in six other men to verify my observation. All of them were as stupefied as I by what we saw. Organs that had no place in a human structure. Evidence of a chemistry that existed in no living being we had ever seen before—"
The Doctor's words rolled over him like a roaring surf, burying, smothering, destroying—
"I want to see." Mel's voice was like a hollow cough from far away. "I think you're crazy. I think you're hiding some mistake you made yourself. You killed Alice in a simple little operation, and now you're trying to get out of it with some crazy story that nobody on earth would ever believe!"
"I want you to see," said Dr. Winters, rising slowly. "That's why I called you in here, Mr. Hastings."
Mel trailed him down the long corridor again. No words were spoken between them. Mel felt as if nothing were real anymore.
They went through the white doors of Surgery and through the inner doors. Then they entered a white, silent—cold—room beyond.
In the glare of icy white lights a single sheeted figure rested on a table. Mel suddenly didn't want to see. But Dr. Winters was drawing back the cover. He exposed the face, the beloved features of Alice Hastings. Mel cried out her name and moved toward the table. There was nothing in her face to suggest she was not simply sleeping, her hair disarrayed, her face composed and relaxed as he had seen her hundreds of times.
"Can you stand to witness this?" asked Dr. Winters anxiously. "Shall I get you a sedative?"
Mel shook his head numbly. "No—show me ..."