He dropped into the Truman boy's room, and almost leaped out again in revulsion. The room was splattered in blood and gore, the bed torn and twisted, slammed against one wall. But Mitchell Truman was not in it. The blood, Kyle saw, came from the bodies of a disemboweled guard— Knight Errant by the tattered shards of his uniform—and what seemed to be only the torso of a small woman in a doctor's coat Parts of her were lodged between the blinds on the window.