He's not
smart, but he's cunning and he's determined. I'm smarter than he is. So
I'll try to find the smart way. I'll think about it, too."
"Well, I've got to get ready to go diving," Kurt said. He stood up with
a jangle. "Thanks for the iced tea, Adam."
"It was nice to meet you, Kurt," Alan said, and shook his hand.
#
Alan woke with something soft over his face. It was pitch dark, and he
couldn't breathe. He tried to reach up, but his arms wouldn't move. He
couldn't sit up. Something heavy was sitting on his chest. The soft
thing -- a pillow? -- ground against his face, cruelly pressing down on
the cartilage in his nose, filling his mouth as he gasped for air.
He shuddered hard, and felt something give near his right wrist and then
his arm was loose from the elbow down. He kept working the arm, his
chest afire, and then he'd freed it to the shoulder, and something bit
him, hard little teeth like knives, in the fleshy underside of his
bicep. Flailing dug the teeth in harder, and he knew he was bleeding,
could feel it seeping down his arm. Finally, he got his hand onto
something, a desiccated, mummified piece of flesh. Davey. Davey's ribs,
like dry stones, cold and thin. He felt up higher, felt for the place
where Davey's arm met his shoulder, and then twisted as hard as he
could, until the arm popped free in its socket.
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