Chapter 26

           Thatoldsaying,abouthowyoualwayskillthethingyoulove,well,itworksbothways. 

           Anditdoesworkbothways. 

           ThismorningIwenttowork andtherewerepolicebarricadesbetweenthebuildingandtheparkinglotwiththepoliceatthefrontdoors, takingstatementsfromthepeopleIworkwith. Everybodymillingaround. 

           Ididn’tevengetoffthebus. 

           IamJoe’sColdSweat. 

           Fromthebus,Icanseethefloor-to-ceilingwindowsonthethirdfloorofmyofficebuildingareblownout, andinsideafiremaninadirtyyellowslickeriswhackingataburntpanelinthesuspendedceiling. Asmolderingdeskinchesoutthebrokenwindow,pushedbytwofiremen, thenthedesktiltsandslidesandfallsthequickthreestoriestothesidewalk andlandswithmoreofafeelingthanasound. 

           Breaksopenandit’sstillsmoking.’ 

           IamthePitofJoe’sStomach. 

           It’smydesk. 

           Iknowmybossisdead. 

           Thethreewaystomakenapalm. IknewTylerwasgoingtokillmyboss. ThesecondIsmelledgasolineonmyhands, whenIsaidIwantedoutofmyjob,Iwasgivinghimpermission.Bemyguest. 

           Killmyboss. 

           Oh,Tyler. 

           Iknowacomputerblewup. 

           IknowthisbecauseTylerknowsthis. 

           Idon’twanttoknowthis, butyouuseajeweler’sdrilltodrillaholethroughthetopofacomputermonitor.