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           LouisCreedwokeupwiththesunblazingfullinhiseyes.Hetriedtogetupandgrimacedatthestabofpaininhisback.Itwashuge.Hefellbackonthepillowandglanceddownathimself.Stillfullydressed.Christ.

           Helaythereforalongmoment,steelinghimselfagainstthestiffnessthathadsettledintoeverymuscle,andthenhesatup.

           "Oh,shit,"hewhispered.Forafewsecondstheroomsee-sawedgentlybutperceptibly.Hisbackthrobbedlikeabadtooth,andwhenhemovedhishead,itfeltasifthetendonsinhisneckhadbeenreplacedbyrustybandsawblades.Buthiskneewasreallytheworst.TheBen-Gayhadn’tdoneathingforit.Heshouldhavegivenhimselfafuckingcortisoneshot.Hispantsweredrawntightlyagainstthekneebytheswelling;itlookedliketherewasaballoonunderthere.

           "Reallyjobbedit,"hemuttered."Boy,ohboy,didIever."

           Hebentitveryslowlysohecouldsitontheedgeofthebed,lipspressedsotightlytogetherthattheywerewhite.Thenhebegantoflexitabit,listeningtothepaintalk,tryingtodecidejusthowbaditreallywas,ifitmightbe

           Gage!IsGageback?

           Thatgothimonhisfeetinspiteofthepain.HelurchedacrosstheroomlikeMattDillon’soldsidekickChester.HewentthroughthedoorandacrossthehallintoGage’sroom.Buttheroomwasempty.HelimpeddowntoEllie’sroom,whichwasalsoempty,andthenintothespareroom.

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