Ken had to change the mop water several times before he was done with the floor. During the process he didn't say a word to Gertie. Then he mopped the floor with bleach. He looked around, apparently satisfied with a job well done.

He left the room again. A moment later, he returned with Viv.

She put her hand over her nose. "I can still smell the rot."

Ken nodded. "Yeah, bleach isn't going to cover it completely. But it'll fade after I get the bodies out of here."

Viv pointed to the floor underneath Gertie's cage. "She's already getting more blood on the floor. Do you have any bandages or gauze or anything?"

"Small bandages. Nothing big enough for stab wounds."

"If you want to keep her alive longer, you can go get some. Or not. It's up to you."

"I'll patch her up."

"You should probably do it soon."

"There's a twenty-four hour Wal-Mart near here."

"All right. I have to get out of here."

Viv left the room. Ken followed her, closing the door behind him.

* * *

"Thank you," said Ken, as they walked up the stairs. "I'm so sorry for lying to you. I just didn't think you'd understand."

"I don't understand. I accept it but I don't understand it."

"That's fair. That's totally fair. I just want to say thank you."

"You're welcome."

They walked into the main part of the house. Ken wondered if Viv had been wandering around. If so, she would've seen Darrell's room. Based on the fact that she hadn't said, "What the hell is all of this stuff?" he assumed that she hadn't gone snooping.

"You do know what this means, right?" Viv asked.

"What?"

"I get to do one."

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER TWELVE

Charlene stood in the shower, massaging coconut-scented shampoo through her hair, reliving the moment when Lee pulled the trigger.

It was more violent in the mental replay. The real alley had been dark. She hadn't seen the bullet burst through the back of his skull. But in her mind, everything was brightly lit, like a fluorescent bulb during a power surge. She saw blood—more blood than medically possible—and chunks of brain matter and shards of skull, all flying through the air like a high-definition 3-D motion picture in super-slow motion. When Lee struck the ground, his head splattered apart like a Jack-o-Lantern left on the front porch for an extra week by somebody who wasn't willing to let Halloween go. The flow of blood was endless. And Lee was still alive. He lay on the ground, writhing in the pool of blood, staring at her with frightened eyes that bulged from their sockets.

Charlene wished this were a dream. She wished it were only her subconscious mind conjuring up these awful images. She didn't need this shit while she was awake, trying to enjoy a relaxing hot shower.

She rinsed her hair while Lee clawed at his own mangled head, moaning in agony.