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“Don’t worry about Brownie,” Dan said. “I know a girl who’d be glad to take care of him. She’s my
niece, and it’s her birthday.”
Carling looked up at him with his one functioning eye. The rattle of his breath was very loud now;
he sounded like an engine with dirt in it.
(can you help me please doc can you help me)
Yes. He could help. It was his sacrament, what he was made for. It was quiet now in Rivington
House, very quiet indeed. Somewhere close, a door was swinging open. They had come to the border.
Fred Carling looked up him, asking what. Asking how. But it was so simple.
“You only need to sleep.”
(don’t leave me)
“No,” Dan said. “I’m here. I’ll stay here until you sleep.”
Now he clasped Carling’s hand in both of his. And smiled.
“Until you sleep,” he said.
May 1, 2011–July 17, 2012