Roxy hung up and Marcus took the phone out of her hand. She was lying on a metal operating table, with a team of her brothers and sisters clad in medical robes leaning over her mutilated body, preparing it for regeneration.
Two of her brothers lifted her body off the treatment table and carried her over to a small bath. They sat her down on a moulded seat on the edge of the bath and let her stumps hang down. One of her sisters picked up a hose that was hanging in a long loop on the wall, placed the end in the bath and turned a tap on the wall.
Within a few seconds, cool, dark blood started to pour from the hose into the bath, covering what remained of Roxy’s legs. The sticky blood worked its way up to Roxy’s hips and stopped. The medical staff cleaned themselves up and threw their blood-soaked robes in a basket that was taken away by a servant. As they left, one of them turned to Roxy. ‘You’ll be okay but try to rest. Conserve your energy. We’ll be back to check on you in an hour.’
‘Thank you very much,’ she said, her voice conveying a mixture of relief, disappointment and exhaustion.
Only Marcus remained in the room. ‘How do you feel, Roxy?’
‘I’ve felt worse,’ she said, ‘I’ve been in worse scrapes than this.’
‘Yes you have, haven’t you? What was the news?’
‘It was another one of our insiders. He’s going to make sure all of the bodies make it through the recovery process without being treated.’
‘So plan B is a go?’
‘Yes sir. One hundred percent.’
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