While Johnny Welfare plays acid rock on a stolen guitar...

“But your supporters want to speak to you,” Mook mumbled as Hillary was rushed out of her concession speech.

“Huma,” Hillary said weakly and the skeletal woman smacked Mook in the mouth hard enough to make his teeth rattle.

“She must go back in the pod,” Huma hissed. “Her flesh decays in our atmosphere now.”

“I didn’t know,” Mook said.

Huma made a hissing noise through her teeth and two large men pushed Mook into a dark corner of the hall and began kicking him.

“Why do you think we are two hours late, himmar? She is dying!” Huma spat him. “It is all your fault! You should have won. Your mind is a shoe!”

Huma hurried away. She caught up with Hillary as they struggled to get her in the life-support van behind a protective screen.

“Huma, Huma,” Hillary moaned, delirious.

“I am here, my love, my only love,” Huma said.

“The Vessel. Bring it to me. Only it can save me now.”

“The child?” Huma asked.

“Yes. Its lifeforce might heal me.”

“My child?”

“Yes, Huma. Or do you also hate all women?”