Exactly halfway down the hall was another hole where Cain had smashed through from inside his apartment. That was where we stopped.

“This is it,” I whispered and shot Blout a glance. He was looking behind him and wasn’t listening to a word I said. “Blout?”

He turned. “What?”

“In here. Cain’s apartment.”

The hole was large enough so that the two of us walked through side by side. For me, walking into the apartment brought a rush of memories. Because of the massive amounts of drugs I was on at the time not all of my memory is available for recall, but standing in this room where so much violence had taken place brought it all back to me.

Cain had first attacked me when I was still several floors away. His strange power pulled at my brain, but he couldn’t take it. The pain was unbelievable, like nothing I’d experienced before, like fingernails grinding along the base of my brain. It made a migraine feel like pure pleasure. Cain pulled, pushed, tugged, and squeezed my brain. I was so determined, or so wasted, that I kept moving until I was standing square in the doorway.

I had a shotgun trained on the floating head, but it wasn’t afraid. I remember that we spoke.

“Why won’t you leave me alone?”

“You killed all those people.”

“I didn’t do it,” he said. “Didn’t really kill them. Only absorbed their brains. They were unhappy, all of them. Leading empty, pointless lives . . .”

The floating head paused, and swayed. I shot off one of his legs, and he hardly noticed.

“. . . like everyone else.” He went on, “I simply combined them into one big pointless life.”

Then Cain stopped talking and attacked. The fight wasn’t over until I stabbed his eyes out high above the city and sent him crashing to his death.

“Cain had no remorse,” I said.

Blout was at the window shining his flashlight along the shattered frame. “What was that?”

I shook my head. “I remember Cain talking like he did the dead a favor by taking their brains.”

“He was a homicidal maniac. You were expecting logic?” Blout said. Then, as though suddenly annoyed, he turned off his light and raised his arms. “Would you please tell me what I’m supposed to be looking for?”

“Not really sure. I just needed to come here . . . to feel it.”

“Well, are you done feeling it yet?”

“Look, Blout, I don’t knock your methods. Don’t knock mine.”

I was getting pissed. I turned off my flashlight and waved him over to my side of the room. “Let’s take a break.”

As we pulled up boxes and sat, I took out my pack of cigarettes and the flask. I swigged and handed it to Blout. Before drinking he held it up to the moonlight coming through the window.

“Checking for germs?”

“No, just seeing if there was any left,” Blout said and this time took a big-ass mouthful and choked it down. “Ahhhhh ahh! Damn, that’s awful.” He coughed, then took another pull.