"Mr. Thornton," the tallest man continued valiantly.
"Won't you come with me?" Pal asked.
Tuthy glanced back at Lauren. She gave him a small fraction of a nod, barely understanding what she was assenting to, and he took Pal's hand. "Tell them it was all my fault," he said.
From his feet to his head, Peter Tuthy was peeled out of this world. Air rushed in. Half of the brass lamp to one side of the door disappeared.
The INS men returned to their car without any further questions, with damp pants and embarrassed, deeply worried expressions. They drove away, leaving Lauren to contemplate the quiet. They did not return.
She did not sleep for three nights, and when she did sleep, Tuthy and Pal visited her, and put the question to her.
Thank you, but I prefer it here, she replied.
It's a lot of fun, the boy insisted. They like music.
Lauren shook her head on the pillow and awoke. Not very far away, there was a whistling, tinny kind of sound, followed by a deep vibration.
To her, it sounded like applause.
She took a deep breath and got out of bed to retrieve her notebook.
Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PREFACE
BURNING CHROME
SPIRIT OF THE NIGHT
BLOOD SISTERS
ROCK ON
THE PARDONER'S TALE
LIVING WILL
DOGFIGHT
OUR NEURAL CHERNOBYL
(LEARNING ABOUT)
CONVERSATIONS WITH MICHAEL
GENE WARS
SPEW
TANGENTS