But Shanley’s in his element. He’s wearing
biohazard gear over his jumpsuit, which makes him look like he just
came onboard after a quick space walk, a thin atmosphere suit with
sealed gloves, boot protectors, the whole works—a large hood even
covers his head, and from what we can see through the Plexiglas
visor, he’s taken the added precaution of wearing a surgeon’s mask
over his nose and mouth. “Hey!” Dylan shouts, crossing the
corridor. He laughs as he bangs on the window, hitting the glass
hard enough that Shanley jumps back. “Is all that really
necessary?”
“I don’t think he can hear you,” I
tell him. When he raises his fist to knock on the glass again, I
catch his arm and pull him back. The last thing we need is Hercules
here tearing apart the quarantine lab.
Shanley points at his hood, then down the
corridor to a door I hadn’t noticed before. His actions are easy
enough to read—I’ll be right out.“Knock the window down,
Teague,” Parker growls.