Jim lurched, his vision blurring and his stomach turning over. As if from a distance, he heard his gun drop to the floor and skitter down the concrete steps. He was leaning against the cool wall, sliding down it, when he gained control of himself again, rubbing his forehead. God, it was no wonder that damned drug drove people irreversibly insane. "Barbara?" he called out, still a few floors down, out of breath from running up the thirty plus floors with the adrenaline of fear. He began to stumble upward.
Barbara didn't dare open her eyes. She tried to remember how much she had handled the tape, if she'd licked her fingers afterward, but her own fear was pushing away the rational thoughts, replacing them with horror. She was terrified she'd hurt Dick. "Please," she whimpered, holding her arm out just as Jim came stumbling in.