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A few seconds later, the feed comes on again. This time, it’s early morning judging by the brightness of the sun as it shines through the curtainless window. Crip’s snoring, laying on his side towards the window. Dino’s head’s about a foot from his face.
Jawbone snickers in anticipation as Crip mutters something in his sleep and smacks his lips.
We watch as Crip opens his eyes, slowly at first, blinking a few times. Closes them again, then opens them so fucking wide it looks like his eyeballs are gonna pop out of his head.
“AHHHHHH,” he screams as he scrambles backwards, gets caught up in the sheet and falls on his ass out of bed. He stumbles a few times as he tries to get to his feet, his dick flapping in the air.
“Good cameras, brother,” Hash snorts. “Pickin’ up on that shriveled old dill pickle.”
The guys laugh harder.
Meanwhile, Crip is stumbling backwards, staring at poor Dino. “The fuck?” he says, sounding like he a swallowed a frog. He finally stops swaying but is keepin’ back from the bed, looking at the head, holding his stomach. He swallows convulsively a couple of times, then drops to his knees and heaves out his guts.
“Fuck,” Fender groans, covering his mouth. “I can almost smell the stink.”
I can’t disagree. A hungover naked Crip pukin’ is enough to turn anyone’s stomach.
Coyote almost chokes on a swallow of his beer as he tries not to laugh. “Wait. It gets better.”
When Crip’s done, he climbs to his feet, wiping his mouth. Last night’s meal is still dripping off his beard and snot’s glistening on his moustache. He takes a few steps towards the bed, then gags and pinches his nose.
“Guess Dino’s wearing too much aftershave,” Red chuckles.
“Ode de lah puke,” Lord says to another round of laughter.
Crip slowly leans a knee on the mattress, then thinking better of it, steps back. He makes his way carefully around the bed and reaches out with a shaky hand towards the sheet covering Dino’s face. He plucks at it then jumps back, not really gettin’ it done. He repeats this a couple of times, until Dino’s face emerges, glassy eyes staring up at Crip.
“Oh fuck,” Crip groans as he slides his hands over his face. Then his eyes roll back in their sockets, and he faints dead away. The feed goes blank.
I’m laughing so hard my guts are hurting.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ piss my pants,” Rocky says as tears stream down his face.
The room is in chaos. We’re talking loud, cheering, toasting to a job well done when Zero runs into church, his face pale, his body shaking.
“Something bad’s happened,” he says in a hollow voice as he looks at me.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT
Evanee
Itake my time getting to the clinic today. Wendy’s taken another day off and since she’s not there to nag me about coming in late, I decide to detour to the mall to do a little shopping. There’s something about being a girl in love. I haven’t felt the need to indulge in retail therapy for a while, but the fact that I’ve got absolutely no appointments this morning makes me fall off the wagon.
An hour and two pairs of shoes later, I’m back at the clinic. I generally park at the curb across the street rather than the clinic’s parking lot because there are only a few spaces. Some day, they’ll be full of cars that belong to real animals and their people.
I’m walking across the street, the bags with my shoes clutched securely in my hands, when Sweet Tidings explodes.
BOOM!
The force knocks me backwards several feet and I land in a heap on the pavement. My ears are ringing, and I throw my hands over them, too late to block out the sound of the blast.
I’m swimming underwater, can’t catch my breath, can’t hear, can’t see through the dust and smoke. My eyes hurt, tears burning, nose running, my body numb.
People are shouting though I can only understand the hollow intonations of panicked words. Then someone’s next to me, yelling for an ambulance, but in slow motion.
“I’m okay,” I croak as reality intrudes. I slap away a hand that’s trying to raise my head. There’s the familiar sting of mascara as it adds to the pain in my eyes.
“You’re not okay!” a loud voice exclaims. My ears are still ringing but the hearing’s coming back. My crumpled body protests as I unbend it slowly, checking for broken bones or other injuries.
