Dead Space: Martyr Read Online Free PDF Page B

kept moving the knife back and forth from one hand to the other. The others kept their distance, their hands up.
    “There’s no need for that,” said the man with the glasses. “They just want to talk to you.”
    “Who’s they?” asked Hammond.
    “Come on,” said the man with the glasses. “Be a good boy and put down the knife.”
    “What’s wrong with him, Tom?” asked the first of the other two.
    “He’s scared, Tim,” said the second, said Tom.
    “I’d be scared if I was him, too,” said Tim. “Nobody likes a thief.”
    “Thief? Can you really steal secrets?” said Tom.
    “Now, boys,” said the man with the glasses. “You’re not helping the situation.”
    There they were again, the voices in his head. But why did they need to send voices into his head if they were there in front of him? And then a terrible thought occurred to Hammond: What if there were two groups out to get him? DredgerCorp and another one as well? Or maybe even three. Or four. What did they want with him? Would they beat him? Would they kill him? Would it be even worse than that?
    “Now just calm down,” said the man with the glasses, looking a little nervous now.
    Someone, Hammond realized, was making a noise, a high-pitched squealing. It was a terrible thing to hear. It took him a long moment to realize that that someone was himself.
    “I told you something was wrong with him,” he heard Tim say behind him.
    “You’re right about that, Tim,” said Tom.
    They were still there, the three of them, standing in a way that made it impossible for him to see all of them at once. He could turn and turn, but he couldn’t see them all at the same time no matter what he did. And then there were the ones in his head, too, slowly extracting things from it. God, his head hurt. He had to stop them, had to get them out of his head.
    “Put the knife down, friend,” said the man with the glasses.
    But that was the last thing Hammond was going to do. Instead he lunged forward and flashed his knife at the man with glasses. The man jumped nimbly back, but not nimbly enough; the knife opened a gash just below his wrist. He stood holding it, blood dripping through his fingers, his face suddenly pale in the dim light.
    But Hammond had forgotten about the others. He turned and there they were, still a little way away, but moving closer. They stepped quickly back when they realized they’d been noticed.
    He was still surrounded, both inside his head and outside it. There was no getting out of it. He would never get away.
    And so, realizing this, heart thudding in his mouth, he did the only thing he could think to do.
    “I didn’t expect that, Tim,” said Tom.
    “I didn’t either,” said Tim. “This one was full of surprises. What’d they want him for, anyway?” he asked the man with the glasses.
    “A few questions,” said the man with the glasses. “Nothing serious. Just a few questions.” He had wrapped his wrist in one of his shirttails. It was slowly soaking through with blood.
    “Never seen anything quite like that,” said Tom. “And I hope I never do again.”
    “Same here,” said Tim, shaking his head.
    He took a step back to avoid the puddle of blood that was spreading from Hammond’s slit neck. He’d never seen anyone cut themselves quite so deep and so quickly. There was a lot of blood and it was still coming. He had to step back again.
    How could anyone do that to himself? Tim wondered. Hemust have been very frightened. Or simply crazy. Or both. He squinted, massaged his temple.
    “All right, Tim?” asked Tom.
    “Better than him, anyway,” said Tim. “Just a little headache.”
    “Me, too,” said Tom. “Terry?”
    “I’ve got a headache, too,” said the man with the glasses. “Been one of those nights. Step lively, lads. Let’s get out of here before the law arrives.”

PART TWO
CONFINED SPACES

11
    “He killed himself, just like that,” the man on the vidscreen said. It was less a question than