Chapter 11

           TheywereinbedwhenShebkickedthedooropenandcameinwiththeknife.

           Ithadbeenfourdays,andtheyhadgonebyinablinkinghaze.Heate.Heslept.HemadesexwithAllie.Hefoundthatsheplayedthefiddleandhemadeherplayitforhim.Shesatbythewindowinthemilkylightofdaybreak,onlyaprofile,andplayedsomethinghaltinglythatmighthavebeengoodifshehadbeentrained.Hefeltagrowing(butstrangelyabsent-minded)affectionforherandthoughtthismightbethetrapthemaninblackhadleftbehind.Hereaddryandtatteredbackissuesofmagazineswithfadedpictures.Hethoughtverylittleabouteverything.

           Hedidn’thearthelittlepianoplayercomeup-hisreflexeshadsunk.Thatdidn’tseemtomattereither,althoughitwouldhavefrightenedhimbadlyinanothertimeandplace.

           Alliewasnaked,thesheetbelowherbreasts,andtheywerepreparingtomakelove.

           "Please,"shewassaying."Likebefore,Iwantthat,Iwant-"

           Thedoorcrashedopenandthepianoplayermadehisridiculous,knock-kneedrunforthesun.Alliedidnotscream,althoughShebheldaneight-inchcarvingknifeinhishand.Shebwasmakinganoise,aninarticulateblabbering.Hesoundedlikeamanbeingdrownedinabucketofmud.Spittleflew.Hebroughttheknifedownwithbothhands,andthegunslingercaughthiswristsandturnedthem.Theknifewentflying.Shebmadeahighscreechingnoise,likearustyscreendoor.Hishandsflutteredinmarionettemovements,bothwristsbroken.Thewindgrittedagainstthewindow