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28

           ApparentlyGagethoughtprettywasthecodewordforI’vegottothrowupnow,sosorry,standclear.

           Itturnedouttobeavirusafterall.

           BythetimetheyhaddriventheseventeenmilesfromtheBangorairporttotheirhouseinLudlow,Gagehadbeguntoshowsignsoffeverandhadfallenintoanuncomfortabledoze.Louisbackedintothegarage,andoutofthecornerofhiseyehesawChurchslinkalongonewall,tailup,strangeeyesfixedonthecar.Itdisappearedintothedyingglowoftheday,andamomentlaterLouissawadisemboweledmouselyingbesideastackoffoursummertireshehadhadthesnowsputonwhileRachelandthekidsweregone.Themouse’sinnardsglowedpinkandrawinthegarage’sgloom.

           Louisgotoutquicklyandpurposelybumpedagainstthepileoftires,whichwerestackeduplikeblackcheckers.Thetoptwofelloverandcoveredthemouse."Ooops,"hesaid.

           "You’reaspaz,Daddy,"Elliesaid,notunkindly.

           "That’sright,"Louissaidwithakindofhecticcheer.HefeltalittlelikesayingPretty,prettyandblowinghisgroceriesallovereverything."Daddy’saspaz."HecouldrememberChurchkillingonlyasingleratbeforehisqueerresurrection;hesometimescorneredmiceandplayedwiththeminthatdeadlycatwaythatultimatelyendedindestruction,butheorEllieorRachelhadalwaysintervenedbeforetheend.

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