“My shoulder,” Dekka moaned. “Oh, my God, it got me. It got me. Oh, God.”

“Hold out your arm, Dekka,” Sam ordered. “This is going to hurt.”

“Do it,” Dekka agreed. “Do it, do it!”

Sam formed a narrow beam of light. Carefully, carefully he moved it closer and closer to the dark splotch on Dekka’s shoulder.

Dekka gritted her teeth.

The beam of light burned and she cried out in pain but then yelled, “Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

But Sam did stop. He quickly grabbed Dekka as she came close to fainting. “Let me see the arm,” he said.

There was a burned scoop mark in Dekka’s skin. Maybe half an inch deep. Twice as wide. The flesh was cauterized, so there was no blood.

“Got it,” Sam said.

“You don’t know that,” Dekka said through gritted teeth.

Plague, Chapter 15