Lanz

DR. Lanz tore at his face, the burned flesh coming off in strips. The pain was unbearable, but not as overwhelming as the heavenly odor of his fried skin. Hunger pangs doubled him over, the agony even worse than the fire damage, and Lanz momentarily lost his self-control and began shoving his own toasted flesh into his mouth, including a walnut-size chunk that was quite possibly his nose.

Jenny.

That bitch nurse Jenny had done this to him. Jumbled as his thoughts were becoming, Lanz could still recall firing her ass. She'd had the audacity to question one of his treatments--right in front of the patient and the other nurses. Granted, he'd been a little coked up at the time and had inadvertently prescribed penicillin to someone who had an allergy, but he couldn't allow that kind of blatant insubordination. Not in his ER.

The bloody nurses' union tried to fight him on it, but Lanz had ultimately prevailed by threatening to walk. A bluff, but he knew the hospital needed him more than it needed some know-it-all nurse.

But she'd gotten back at Lanz. She'd burned him good.

No matter. Even as he peeled off his face and neck and shoved them into his toothy maw, he could feel the skin regenerating, regrowing.

I'm invincible. You think you can stop me, Nurse Bolton? I know how to deal with your insubordinate ass.

Gliding down the stairs, Lanz reached the basement. He'd brought Winslow down here a few times, let her blow him near the furnace. Even with the lights off, Lanz's vision was perfect. Yet another enhancement, courtesy of the virus. He hurried past the boilers, chewing on the charred flesh of his right hand, until he found what he sought.

The circuit breaker.

I can see in the dark, Nurse Bolton. Can you?