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Back Black Ambrosia Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. CoverImage
  2. Introduction by Grady Hendrix
  3. Acknowledgments
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. About the Author
  46. About the Cover

The police didn’t come by for six days. By that time, Fred’s dogs had found the only thing there was for them to eat, mutilating what clues the police might have had as to cause of death. Since I was obviously the last to see him alive, they came to ask me if he had been complaining of indigestion or chest pains of any kind.

He had not, to me, and I told them this.

“I really began to rage out of control when I began to see Angelina, I mean actually see her.

“Angelina and I had some kind of weird connec­tion. I can’t really describe it, it’s like . . .

“When I was a kid, we used to spend a lot of time calling people on the phone. Well, one girl’s phone number was always busy, but the rest of us discovered that if we shouted into the phone between the busy signal tones, we could talk to other people calling her number and hearing the same busy signal. It was like a weird conference call.

“Well, that’s kind of what it was like with Angelina and me. We just kind of fell into some sort of a void, like that place where the busy signal existed, and we saw each other. Sometimes I could see right out through her eyes, like bright little windows in the vast dark void, windows to the outside world.

“And, like that busy signal thing, I think there was more going on in there, but there was never enough time to look around. It always took me by surprise. And Angelina’d usually just done something . . . you know.

“The first time it happened, I almost shit. But then it began to happen more frequently. I had to quit my job. I was afraid it would happen when I was working with a saw or something. Or driving. I kind of quit driving. The connection lasted for only a second or two. Just long enough to shock me, I guess. I don’t know why. I don’t think Angelina did it on purpose; I think she was just as shocked as I was.

“I soon got tired of looking at her victims and listening to her lunacy, and I started looking for clues as to where she was. I mostly just stayed home and waited for it to happen again so I could concentrate on what else I could see from her point of view—a landmark, a street sign, anything. I stayed home and waited for word of strange murders on TV, in the papers, on the wire service. I lived for clues to her where­abouts.

“She knew when I started looking for her, too. At first she was pretty crafty about it, but as time went on, she warped right out of control. She got careless and began to leave a trail.”

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