Marlowe doesn't answer.  People didn't believe him when he told them about his story, and for those that did it was just a humiliation.<br/>The dull thudding and rattling of steel doors and walls.  Still holding the pistol ready, the face of the young woman swims in his mind-- a strange mix of the cold, professional poise before with the broken and vile remnants after... how does someone end up this way..?  If he got a chance at the Suit who'd plugged him, he'd make the bastard suffer.  If not... then the damage was done.  Surviving in this rotting asylum would be enough for just about anyone.<br/><br/>He checks over his shoulder-- the shift bringing a twinge of fire in his shoulder for his efforts, but he resumes scanning every corner for more of the infected ones.  "Careful with the d--"  he coughs.  "Careful with--"  he winces at the resonating pain from the cough.  "Ah, fuck it.  Just go."