"One of the amateurs told me he'd picked up a report from the ship about a week ago. The radio operator said he was barricaded in the radio room. Rioting had broken out all over the ship. Dozens of passengers had been killed; the ones who were left were turning cannibalistic. That was the last report anyone has heard from the ship."
Ken shuddered. He glanced through the window and caught a vision of Science Hall on College Hill. A fortress, he thought. There were maybe a dozen other such fortresses scattered throughout the world; in them lay the only hope against the enemy that rampaged across the Earth.
In the sky, he could see the comet's light faintly, even through the lead-gray clouds from which snow was falling.
"You should get back to bed," said Maria. "You look as if you had been hit two hours ago instead of two weeks."
"Yeah, I guess I'd better." Ken arose, feeling weak and dizzy. "Can you get that report typed for Dad tonight? It would be good for him to be able to take it to the lab with him in the morning."
"I'll get it done," said Maria. "You get off to bed."
As much as he rebelled against it, Ken was forced to spend the next two days in bed. Dr. Adams allowed him to be up no more than a few hours on the third day. "I'm afraid you took a worse beating than any of us thought," the doctor said. "You'll just have to coast for a while."
It was as he was finally getting out of bed again that he heard Art Matthews, when the mechanic came to the door and spoke with Ken's mother.
"This is awfully important," Art said. "I wish you'd ask him if he doesn't feel like seeing me for just a minute."
"He's had a bad relapse, and the doctor says he has to be kept very quiet for a day or two longer."