He
raised the hammer again. He'd expected the finger to crush into powder,
but instead it fissured into three jagged pieces, like a piece of chert
fracturing under a hammer-stone.
Davey's eyes were squeezed down to slits now. "You're the scared
one. You can't scare me," he said, his voice choked with phlegm.
Alan sat on the irregular tile and propped his chin in his palm. "Okay,
Davey, you're right. I'm scared. You've kidnapped our brothers, maybe
even killed them. You're terrorizing me. I can't think, I can't
sleep. So tell me, Danny, why shouldn't I just kill you again, and get
rid of all that fear?"
"I know where the brothers are," he said instantly. "I know where there
are more people like us. All the answers, Albert, every answer you've
ever looked for. I've got them. And I won't tell you any of them. But so
long as I'm walking around and talking, you think that I might."
#
Alan took Marci back to his bedroom, the winter bedroom that was no more
than a niche in the hot-spring cavern, a pile of rags and a sleeping bag
for a bed. It had always been enough for him, but now he was ashamed of
it. He took the flashlight from Marci and let it wind down, so that they
were sitting in darkness.
"Your parents --" she said, then broke off.
"It's complicated."
"Are they dead?"
He reached out in the dark and took her hand.
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