Annihilation by Isabel Ostrander

For an instant McCarty's stout legs wabbled beneath him, then he drew himself together and pressing the button of his own flashlight he strode over the sill.

A strange scene presented itself to his staring eyes. Dennis was clinging weakly to an upright post at the foot of the heavily carved bed upon which Orbit was lying. His firmly molded chin was relaxed and the sunken, closed eyes were mere blotches of shadow in the grayish pallor of his face. The pajama jacket was open at his throat and his arms were flung above his head as though helplessness had come upon him in the effort to protect himself from an attack. As he noted these things McCarty became aware of the pungent, sweetish odor that assailed his own nostrils.