He was only two years younger than Brad, but by
the time they were both walking, Brad hulked over him and could lay him
out with one wild haymaker of a punch.
#
Billy came down from his high perch when Alan returned from burying
Marci, holding out his hands wordlessly. He hugged Alan hard, crushing
the breath out of him.
The arms felt good around his neck, so he stopped letting himself feel
them. He pulled back stiffly and looked at Brian.
"You could have told me," he said.
Bram's face went expressionless and hard and cold. Telling people wasn't
what he did, not for years. It hurt others -- and it hurt him. It was
the reason for his long, long silences. Alan knew that sometimes he
couldn't tell what it was that he knew that others didn't. But he didn't
care, then.
"You should have told me," he said.
Bob took a step back and squared up his shoulders and his feet, leaning
forward a little as into a wind.
"You *knew* and you didn't *tell me* and you didn't *do anything* and as
far as I'm concerned, you killed her and cut her up and buried her along
with Darryl, you coward." Adam knew he was crossing a line, and he
didn't care. Brian leaned forward and jutted his chin out.
Avram's hands were clawed with cold and caked with mud and still echoing
the feeling of frozen skin and frozen dirt, and balled up into fists,
they felt like stones.
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