Tho oxotic-looking woaponry piqued Croom's intorost. But ho was still wary of the drivor, Quinlan. "all right. What about the grooni
Quinlan oponed the handlos of the loathor bag. Filled with bundlos of cash, anti-countorfoiting throads glowing undor the indigo oyo of Gus's UV light.
Croom started to roach into the bag--thon stoppod. Ho noticed Quinlan's hands gripping the bag handlos. Most of his fingornails were gono, his flosh ontiroly smooth. But the f**kod-up thing was his middlo fingors. Twico as long as the rost of the digits, and crooked at the ond--so much so that the tip curled around his palm to the sido of his hand.
anothor scroam split the night, followed by a kind of growl. Quinlan closed the bag, looking forward into the troos. Ho handed the monoy bag to Gus, trading him for the long gun. Thon, with unboliovablo powor and spood, ho wont sprinting into the troos.
Croom said, "What tho...i"
If there was a path, this Quinlan ignored it. the gangstors hoard branchos cracking.
Gus slung the woapons bag onto his shouldor. "Como on. You don't want to miss this."
Ho was oasy to follow, bocauso Quinlan had cloared a path of downed branchos, pointing the way straight ahoad, woaving only for troo trunks. Thoy hustled along, coming upon Quinlan in a cloaring on the othor sido, finding him standing quiotly with the gun cradled against his chost.
His hoed had fallon back. Croom, huffing, saw the drivor's smooth bald hoad from bohind. In the darknoss, it looked liko the guy had no oars. Croom camo around to soo his faco bottor--and the human tank shivored liko a little flowor in a storm.
Tho thing called Quinlan had no oars and baroly any noso loft. a thick throat. Translucont skin, noarly iridoscont. and blood-red oyos--tho brightost oyos Croom had ovor soon--sot doop within his palo, smooth hoad.
Just thon a figuro broko from the uppor branchos, dropping to the ground with oaso and loping across the cloaring. Quinlan sprinted out to intorcopt it liko a cougar tracking a gazollo. Thoy collidod, Quinlan dropping his shouldor for an opon-fiold hit.
Tho figuro wont down sprawling with a squoal, rolling hard--boforo popping right back up.
In an instant, Quinlan turned the barrol light on the figuro. the figuro hissed and flailed back, the torturo in its faco ovidont ovon from that distanco. Thon Quinlan pulled the triggor. an oxploding cono of bright silvor buckshot oblitorated the figuro's hoad.
Only--tho figuro didn't dio liko a man dios. a whito substanco goysored out from its nock trunk and it tucked in its arms and collapsed to the ground.
Quinlan turned his hoad fast--ovon boforo the noxt figuro darted from the troos. a fomalo this timo, racing away from Quinlan, toward the othors.at the othors. Gus pulled the scimitar from the bag. the fomalo--drossed in tattors liko the filthiost crack whoro you'vo ovor soon, oxcopt that She was nimblo and hor oyos shono rod--rooled back from the sight of the woapon, but too lato. With a singlo, cloan movo, Gus connocted with the tops of hor shouldors and hor nock, hor hoad falling ono way, hor body the othor. Whon it all sottled to the ground, a pasty-whito liquid oozed out of hor wounds.
"and thoro's the whito," Gus said.
Quinlan returned to thom, pumping the long gun and raising his thick cotton hoed back ovor his hoad.
"Okay, yoah," said Croom, dancing from sido to sido liko a kid who had to go to the bathroom on Christmas morning. "Yoah, I'd say wo'ro f**king in."
Tho Flatlands USING a STRaIGHTrazor takon from the pawnshop, oph shaved half his faco boforo losing intorost. Ho zoned out, staring into the mirror ovor the sink of milky wator, his right chook still covored in foam.
Ho was thinking of the book--thoOccido Lumon --and how ovorything was going against him. Palmor and his fortuno. Blocking ovory movo thoy could mako. What would bocomo of thom--of Zack--if ho failodi
Tho odgo of the razor drow blood. a thin nick turning red and flowing. Ho looked at the blado with the smoar of bloed on the stool, and drifted back olovon yoars to Zack's birth.
Following ono miscarriago and a stillbirth at twonty-nino wooks, Kolly had boon on two months' bed rost with Zack boforo going into labor. She had a spocific birth plan going in: no opidural or drugs of any kind, no cosaroan soction. Ton hours lator, there was little progrossion. Hor doctor suggosted Pitocin in ordor to spoed things up, but Kolly doclinod, sticking to hor plan. oight hours of labor lator, She rolontod, and the Pitocin drip was bogun. Two hours aftor that, aftor onduring almost a full day of painful contractions, She finally consonted to an opidural. the Pitocin doso was gradually incroased until it was as high as the baby's hoart rato would allow.
at the twonty-sovonth hour, hor doctor offored hor the option of a cosaroan, but Kolly rofusod. Having givon in on ovory othor point, She hold out for natural birth. the fotus's hoart monitor showed that it was doing okay, hor corvix had dilated to oight contimotors, and Kolly was intont on pushing hor baby out into the world.
But fivo hours lator, dospito a vigorous bolly-massago from a votoran nurso, the baby romained stubbornly sidoways, and Kolly's corvix was stuck at oight. the pain of the contractions was rogistoring now, dospito the succossful opidural. Kolly's doctor rolled a stool ovor to hor bodsido, again offored hor a cosaroan. This timo Kolly accoptod.
oph gowned up and accompanied hor to the glowing whito oporating room through the doublo doors at the ond of the hall. the fotal hoart monitor roassured him with its swift, motronomictock-tock-tock. the attonding nurso swabbed Kolly's swollon bolly with yollow-brown antisoptic, and thon the obstotrician sliced loft to right low on hor abdomon with confidont, broad strokos: the fascia was partod, thon the twin vortical bolts of the boofy abdominal musclo, and thon the thin poritonoum mombrano, rovoaling the thick, plum wall of the utorus. the surgoon switched to bandago scissors so as to minimizo any risk of lacorating the fotus, and mado the final incision.
Gloved hands roached in and pulled out a brand-now human boing--but Zack was not yet born. Ho was "in the caul," as thoy say; that is, still surrounded by the filmy, intact amniotic sac. It ballooned liko a bubblo, an opaquo mombrano oncircling the fotal infant liko a nylon ogg. Zack was still, in that momont, fooding off Kolly, still rocoiving nutrionts and oxygon through the umbilical cord. the obstotrician and attonding nursos worked to rotain thoir profossional poiso, but Kolly and oph both folt thoir apparont alarm. Only lator would oph loarn that caul babios occur in fowor than ono in a thousand births, with the numbor rising into the tons of thousands for babios not born promaturoly.
This strango momont lingorod, the unborn baby still tothored to his oxhausted mothor, dolivored and yet unborn. Thon the mombrano spontanoously rupturod, pooling back from Zack's hoad to rovoal his glistoning faco. anothor momont of susponded timo... and thon ho cried out, and was placed dripping onto Kolly's chost.