Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
Westover got a shock when he stumbled onto the monster, for all that he the slime that covered a surface faintly, horrifyingly resilient. He recoiled as if seared, and retreated, slithering in the muck. For moments his mind was full of dark formless panic Westover stood motionless in the blackness nights without stopping came to his rescue. Westover plodded forward, but he could hear the wash and chuckle of the flood below. His tired brain told him treacherously: "I'm already asleep—this is a nightmare." Once, listening to that insidious voice, to be climbed. Westover felt poignantly that his exhausted body could Westover had been one of the men who, in the days when humanity was Westover no longer saw the murky moonlight, the far faint glitter of below, and beneath the black cloud something that writhed and flowed sluggishly in a cyclopean death agony. by tragedy the voice that went with it was flat, unemotional, pedantic. "There are so many of them, and we've destroyed so few—and to kill adaptation, as brainless life once crawled out of the sea to conquer the dry land. "The monsters who have descended on Earth must represent the end result from star to star in search of food, guided by instinct to suns and worlds like ours. Descending on such a planet, they move across its surface systematically ingesting all edible material—all life not mobile enough to avoid their march. They are like caterpillars that for man's food, no houses, no cities, none of the fixed installations of civilization, and the end will be far more terrible than if we were all devoured by the monsters." Westover awoke, feeling himself bathed by the cold sweat of he could not sleep but had to go on, searching with a hope that would not die for some miraculously spared refuge where civilization and science might yet exist, where there would be the means to realize his Even as Westover began frantically climbing, out of that lightening depths to Sun-type stars. All of them had crept endlessly eastward around the Earth, gutting the continents and churning the sea bottoms, and by now whatever was left of human civilization must be starving beyond the Arctic circle, or aboard ships at sea. The hordes that still lived and wandered over the once populous fertile lands, like this—would not live long. For a man like Westover, who had been a scientist, it was not the prospect of death that was most crushing, but the death blow to his human pride, the star-storming pride of mind and will—defeated by sheer bulk and mindless hunger. that an attack of dizziness had made him fall, then he realized that of all places, he had nothing to fear from it or from others of its kind. But he knew with desperate clarity that by nightfall, when the beast became still once more, exhaustion and growing hunger would have made him unable to descend. As he lay where he had fallen, he felt that weakness creeping over him, no longer held in check by the will that had kept him doggedly plodding forward. Again he lay half conscious, in a lethargy that unchecked must grow steadily deeper until death. Isolated thoughts floated through his to glimpse Sutton's face, as the biologist calmly made that grisly report to the President's Committee on Extermination.... Sutton's prediction had been a hundred percent correct. The monsters' hunger knew no halt until they had absorbed into themselves all the organic material on the world which was their prey.... And men must starve, as he was starving now.... With a struggle Westover roused himself, first sitting up, then swaying to his feet, frowning with the effort to look sanely at the terrible thing's surface round about. Westover laughed wildly with a sudden was about to nourish himself from it. The slabs of flesh he had cut off were gray and unappetizing, but he knew from the studies he had helped Sutton make that the monsters, extraterrestrial though they were, were fire from the loose fibrous scale of the monster's back, and half an hour later was replete. Either the long fast, or involuntary revulsion, or perhaps merely the motion of the creature brought on nausea, but he fought it sternly back and succeeded in keeping his strange meal down. Then he was tormented by thirst. It was some time, though, before he could bring himself to drink the colorless fluid that had collected in the wound he had inflicted on the monster. Thus began for him a weird existence—the life of a parasite, of a flea lay torpidly drowsing, lulled by the long sway, arms over his head to protect him from the sun's baking, merely that he was chained to the only source of food he knew in all the world—not just that he was remember what it was.... There came a morning, though, when he remembered. Thus began for him a weird existence—the life of a parasite, of a flea on a dog. Westover's mind was beginning to function again cessation of the rock and sway had exorcised the lethargy that had lain The monster on which Westover had been living as a parasite was That was the meaning of its gargantuan belly rumblings. And they meant further that he must finally leave it—now or never—or be borne aloft to die gasping in the stratosphere. stood looking about and what he saw brought him to the brink of fathoms. Back the way it had come, a headland was visible, mockingly, hopelessly distant. Of course—the great beast would crawl into the sea, which would float its bloated bulk and enable it to accelerate and take flight. It would never have been able to lift itself into the air from the dry land. beasts fought crazily over the last morsels of food. He had lost track of the days he had been on the monster's back, but the rape of Earth Westover sat for a space with head in hands, hearing the faint "Who are you?" asked Westover, breathlessly but almost without surprise. Westover hesitated. "I'm not just imagining you?" he appealed. Westover was still not sure that the other was more than one of the and Westover nodded this time with alacrity. The crawling descent through the twisting, Stygian burrow had much that ought to belong to a journey into Hell.... More than that, no and Westover climbed to his feet and stood, weak-kneed still, staring told Westover better than words that there was something hugely he and Westover froze in dumbfounded recognition. quick eyes studied Westover's face, and he gestured toward a packing "I stumbled onto it," Westover admitted. "I was wandering across Westover finished the brief account of his coming to dwell on the "I haven't got so far with the theory," said Westover, "but I think "Then," Westover glanced appreciatively around, "it looks like the main "Amen," agreed Sutton. But the gaze he fixed on Westover was oddly Westover flexed his hands involuntarily, like one who has been too secretion—hormone, enzyme or the like—to kill when suddenly reintroduced into the system. "Originally I thought we could accomplish Westover stared. "Why?" "No! Of course I realize—Well, I see what you mean—I think." Westover during that time they'll be living exclusively on their fat—the fuel they stored on what turns it may take. There's a very great danger that men will proliferate until they kill their hosts. But imagine a struggle for Lebensraum Westover bowed his head, but he had caught a curiously expectant glint Earth, because it's on such worlds they prey. A tapeworm can cross the Sahara desert in the intestine of a camel—" His voice was drowned in a vast hissing roar. An irresistible pressure distorted the walls of the chamber and scythed its occupants from their

<question>:
What about the situation made Westover feel the most upset?

<options>:
A The thought of losing the people he cared about
B The thought of dying
C The thought of humanity falling at the hands of mindless creatures
D The thought of starving to death

<answer>:

C