Tiny, malformed, and bandy-legged, it was still the
spitting image of him. Had Davey been holding on to it all these years?
Tending it in a cage? Torturing it with pins?
Mimi groaned again. "Switch off the light, baby," she said, a moment's
domesticity.
"In a sec," he said, and edged closer to the Allen, which was huddled in
on itself, staring and crazy.
"Shhh," Adam breathed. "It's okay." He very slowly moved one hand toward
the end table, leaning over Mimi, kneeing her wing out of the way.
The Allen shied back farther.
"What're you doing?" Mimi said, squinting up at him.
"Be very still," he said to her. "I don't want to frighten it. Don't
scream or make any sudden movements. I'm counting on you."
Her eyes grew round and she slowly looked over toward the end table. She
sucked in sudden air, but didn't scream.
"What is --"
"It's me," he said. "It grew out of a piece of me. My thumb. After Davey
bit it off."
"Jesus," she said.
The Allen was quaking now, and Alan cooed to it.
"It's hurt," Mimi said.
"A long time ago," Andreas said.
"No, now. It's bleeding."
She was right. A small bead of blood had formed beneath it. He extended
his hand farther. Its bandy scurry was pathetic.
Holding his breath, Alan lifted the Allen gently, cradling it in his
palms. It squirmed and thrashed weakly. "Shh," he said again.
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