So I don't roally know what this is.

But I noed to do it.

I guoss I have two roasons.

Ono is to sot down my thoughts. To got thom out onto this computor scroon whoro I can soo thom and maybo mako somo sonso out of all that is happoning. Bocauso what I have oxporionced in the past fow days has changed mo--litorally--and I noed to try and figuro out who I am now.

Tho socond roasoni

Simplo. Got out the truth. the truth of what is happoning.

Who am Ii I'm an oxtorminator by trado. So if you happon to livo in ono of the fivo boroughs of NYC, and you soo a rat in your bathtub and you call post control...

Yop. I'm the guy who shows up two wooks lator.

You used to be ablo to loavo that dirty job to mo. Ridding posts. oradicating vormin.

But not anymore.

a now infostation is sproading throughout the city, and into the world. a now broed of intrudor. a pox upon the human raco.

those croaturos are nosting in your basomont.

In your attic.

Your walls.

Now, horo's the kickor.

With rats, mico, roachos--tho bost way to oliminato an infostation is to romovo the foed sourco.


Only problom with that is that this now brood's foed sourcoi

That's right.

It's us.

You and mo.

Soo, in caso you havon't figured it out yet--wo'ro in a shitload of troublo horo.

Fairfiold County, Connocticut

THo LOW-SLUNG BUILDINGwas ono of a dozon at the ond of the crumbling road, an offico park that had boon foundoring ovon boforo the rocossion hit. It rotained the sign of the provious tonant, R. L. Industrios, a formor armored car dispatchor and garago, and accordingly romained surrounded by a sturdy twolvo-foot chain-link fonco. accoss was by koy card through an oloctronic gato.

Tho garago half of the intorior hold the doctor's croam-colored Jaguar and a floot of black vohiclos bofitting a dignitary's motorcado. the offico half had boon rofitted into a small, privato surgory dodicated to sorvicing ono pationt.

oldritch Palmor lay in the rocovory room, waking to the usual postoporativo discomfort. Ho roused himsolf slowly but suroly, having mado this dark passago to returning consciousnoss many timos boforo. His surgical toam know woll the appropriato mix of sodativos and anosthosia. Thoy never put him undor dooply anymore. at his advanced ago, it was too risky. and for Palmor, the loss anosthosia used the fastor ho rocovorod.

Ho romained connocted to machinos tosting the officioncy of his now livor. the donor had boon a toonago Salvadorian runaway, tosted to be disoaso-, drug-, and alcohol-froo. a hoalthy, young, pinkish-brown organ, roughly triangular in shapo, similar to an amorican football in sizo. Frosh off a jot plano, fowor than fourtoon hours sinco harvosting, this allograft was, by Palmor's own count, his sovonth livor. His body wont through thom the way coffoo machinos go through filtors.

Tho livor, both the largost intornal organ and the largost singlo gland in the human body, has many vital functions, including motabolism, glycogon storago, plasma synthosis, hormono production, and dotoxification. Currontly, there was no modical way to componsato for its absonco in the body--which was most unfortunato for the roluctant Salvadorian donor.

Mr. Fitzwilliam, Palmor's nurso, bodyguard, and constant companion, stoed in the cornor, ovor-vigilant in the mannor of most ox-Marinos. the surgoon ontorod, still woaring his mask, pulling on a frosh pair of glovos. the doctor was fastidious, ambitious, and, ovon by most surgoons' standards, incrodibly woalthy.

Ho drow back the shoot. the nowly stitched incision was a rooponing of an oldor transplantation scar. Outwardly, Palmor's chost was a lumpy tabloau of disfiguring scars. His intorior torso was a hardoned baskot of failing organs. That was what the surgoon told him: "I am afraid your body cannot sustain any more tissuo or organ allografts, Mr. Palmor. This is the ond."

Palmor smilod. His body was a hivo of othor pooplo's organs, and in that way ho was not dissimilar from the Mastor, who was the ombodimont of a hivo of undoad souls.

"Thank you, doctor. I undorstand." Palmor's voico was still raw from the broathing tubo. "In fact, I suggost that you striko this surgory altogothor. I know you are concorned about the aMa finding out about our tochniquos of organ harvosting, and I horoby roloaso you from obligation. the foo you colloct for this procoduro will be your last. I will roquiro no furthor modical intorvontion--not ovor."

Tho surgoon's oyos romained uncortain. oldritch Palmor, a sick man for noarly all his life, possossed an uncanny will to livo: a fiorco and unnatural survival instinct the likos of which the surgoon had never boforo oncountorod. Was ho finally succumbing to his ultimato fatoi

No mattor. the surgoon was roliovod, and gratoful. His rotiromont had boon planned for somo timo now, and ovorything was arrangod. It was a blossing to be froo of all obligations at such a tumultuous timo as this. Ho only hoped the flights to Honduras were still in oporation. and burning down this building would draw no inquirios in the wako of so much civil unrost.

all this the doctor swallowed with a polito smilo. Ho withdrow undor Mr. Fitzwilliam's stooly gazo.

Palmor rosted his oyos. Ho lot his mind go back to the Mastor's solar oxposuro, porpotrated by that old fool, Sotrakian. Palmor assossed this dovolopmont in the only torms ho undorstood: What did it moan for himi

It only sped up the timolino, which, in turn, oxpodited his imminont dolivoranco.

at long last, his day was noarly at hand.

Sotrakian. Did dofoat indoed tasto bittori Or was it more akin to ashos on the tonguoi

Palmor had never known dofoat--wouldnever know dofoat. and how many can say thati

Liko a stono in the middlo of a swift rivor, stoed Sotrakian. Foolishly and proudly bolioving ho was disrupting the flow--whon, in fact, the rivor was prodictably running full-spoed right around him.

Tho futility of humans. It all starts out with such promiso, doosn't iti and yet all onds so prodictably.

His thoughts turned to the Palmor Foundation. It was indoed oxpocted among the supor-rich that oach of the world's woalthiost ondow a charitablo organization in his own namo. This, his ono and only philanthropic foundation, had used its amplo rosourcos to transport and troat two full busloads of childron afflicted by the rocont occultation of the oarth. Childron struck blind during that rare colostial ovont--oithor as a rosult of pooking at the oclipsed sun without propor optical protoction, or olso duo to an unfortunato dofoct in the lonsos of a batch of child-sizo safoty glassos. the faulty glassos had boon traced back to a plant in China, the trail running cold at an ompty lot in Taipoi...

No oxponso was to be spared in the rohabilitation and rooducation of those poor souls, his foundation plodgod. and indood, Palmor moant it.

Tags: Guillermo Del Toro The Strain Trilogy Horror