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"
It
was
for
your
own
good
,
"
Jack
said
,
backing
up
.
"
I
set
it
ahead
for
your
own
good
.
Furthermore
,
I
happen
to
know
you
cheated
on
your
Final
Composition
.
"
"
I
don
’
t
cheat
…
and
I
don
’
t
stutter
.
"
George
’
s
hands
touched
his
neck
.
Jack
turned
and
ran
,
ran
with
the
floating
,
weightless
slowness
that
is
so
common
to
dreams
.
"
You
did
!
You
did
cheat
!
"
he
screamed
in
fear
and
anger
as
he
crossed
the
darkened
bed
/
sitting
room
.
"
I
’
ll
prove
it
!
"
George
’
s
hands
were
on
his
neck
again
.
Jack
’
s
heart
swelled
with
fear
until
he
was
sure
it
would
burst
.
And
then
,
at
last
,
his
hand
curled
around
the
doorknob
and
it
turned
under
his
hand
and
he
yanked
the
door
open
.
He
plunged
out
,
not
into
the
second
-
floor
hallway
,
but
into
the
basement
room
beyond
the
arch
.
The
cobwebby
light
was
on
.
His
campchair
,
stark
and
geometrical
,
stood
beneath
it
.
And
all
around
it
was
a
miniature
mountain
range
of
boxes
and
crates
and
banded
bundles
of
records
and
invoices
and
God
knew
what
.
Relief
surged
through
him
.
"
I
’
ll
find
it
!
"
he
heard
himself
screaming
.
He
seized
a
damp
and
moldering
cardboard
box
;
it
split
apart
in
his
hands
,
spilling
out
a
waterfall
of
yellow
flimsies
.
"
It
’
s
here
somewhere
!
I
will
find
it
!
"
He
plunged
his
hands
deep
into
the
pile
of
papers
and
came
up
with
a
dry
,
papery
wasps
’
nest
in
one
hand
and
a
timer
in
the
other
.
The
timer
was
ticking
.
Attached
to
its
back
was
a
length
of
electrical
cord
and
attached
to
the
other
end
of
the
cord
was
a
bundle
of
dynamite
.
"
Here
!
"
he
screamed
.
"
Here
,
take
it
!
"
His
relief
became
absolute
triumph
.
He
had
done
more
than
escape
George
,
;
be
had
conquered
.
With
these
talismanic
objects
in
his
hands
,
George
would
never
touch
him
again
.
George
would
flee
in
terror
.
He
began
to
turn
so
he
could
confront
George
,
and
that
was
when
George
’
s
hands
settled
around
his
neck
,
squeezing
,
stopping
his
breath
,
damming
up
his
respiration
entirely
after
one
final
dragging
gasp
.
