21. the radio operator. hates it here. lousy at his job.
it's no go.
look, i haven't been able to reach shit in two weeks. doubt if anybody's talked to anybody on the whole continent.
hey, man!
we're a thousand miles from anybody else, man. it's going to get a hell of a lot worse before it gets better.
couple seconds of an argentine disco station.
i'll see what i can do. but they didn't teach me much about fixing these things.
well, what we going to do?
in terror, runs at top speed through the narrow corridors.
as he reaches a small armory. a glass case set into the wall. a half dozen rarely used guns are inside. he tries the handle. locked.
no.
you guys going to let him give orders? i mean he could be one of those things.
how we going to try and find out who's.  you know, who's who?
where were the flashlights?
why?
well, screw you, man!
whoever put this through him.
is one bad-ass and strong muther.
why fuchs?
macready?
when do you think it got to him?
fuck you, palmer.
you think he's changed into one of those things?
what if we're wrong about him?
what we going to.
god.  what?
grimacing as dr. copper pinches a scalpel to his thumb and collects a small portion of his blood in a dish.
what if it doesn't come?
he might just wait us out.
you hear that?
what?!
i can't hear you.