Chapter 3

           ItoldallthistoJanataroundeleveno’clockthatmorningthenextmorning,Ialmostwrote,butofcourseitwasthesameday.Thelongestoneofmywholelife,withoutadoubt.ItolditprettymuchasIhavehere,finishingwithhowWilliamWhartonhadendeduplyingdeadonhisbunk,riddledwithleadfromPercy’ssidearm.

           No,that’snotright.WhatIactuallyfinishedwithwasthestuffthatcameoutofPercy,thebugsorthewhatever-it-was.Thatwasahardthingtotell,eventoyourwife,butItoldit.

           AsItalked,shebroughtmeblackcoffeebythehalf-cupatfirstmyhandswereshakingtoobadlytopickupawholeonewithoutspillingit.BythetimeIfinished,theshakinghadeasedsome,andIfeltthatIcouldeventakesomefoodanegg,maybe,orsomesoup.

           "Thethingthatsaveduswasthatwedidn’treallyhavetolie,anyofus."

           "Justleaveafewthingsout,"shesaid,andnodded."Littlethings,mostly,likehowyoutookacondemnedmurdereroutofprison,andhowhecuredadyingwoman,andhowhedrovethatPercyWetmorecrazybywhat?spittingapureedbraintumordownhisthroat?"

           "Idon’tknow,Jan,"Isaid."Ionlyknowthatifyoukeeptalkinglikethat,you’llendupeithereatingthatsoupyourself,orfeedingittothedog."

           "I’msorry.ButI’mright,aren’tI?"

           "Yeah,"Isaid.

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