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"
The
loudest
crack
of
thunder
yet
broke
overhead
at
that
moment
,
loud
enough
to
make
the
storage
room
's
tin
roof
vibrate
.
Percy
jumped
as
if
someone
had
goosed
him
,
and
Del
gave
a
small
,
contemptuous
snort
of
laughter
.
"
It
get
much
louder
dan
dat
,
he
gon
na
piddle
in
his
pants
again
,
"
he
said
,
and
then
squared
his
shoulders
--
not
that
he
had
much
to
square
.
"
Come
on
.
Let
's
get
it
over
.
"
We
walked
to
the
platform
.
Delacroix
ran
a
nervous
eye
over
the
witnesses
--
about
twenty-five
of
them
this
time
--
as
we
went
,
but
Brutal
,
Dean
,
and
I
kept
our
own
eyes
trained
on
the
chair
.
All
looked
in
order
to
me
.
I
raised
one
thumb
and
a
questioning
eyebrow
to
Percy
,
who
gave
a
little
one-sided
grimace
,
as
if
to
say
What
do
you
mean
,
is
everything
all
right
?
Of
course
it
is
.
I
hoped
he
was
right
.
Brutal
and
I
reached
automatically
for
Delacroix
's
elbows
as
he
stepped
up
onto
the
platform
.
It
's
only
eight
or
so
inches
up
from
the
floor
,
but
you
'd
be
surprised
how
many
of
them
,
even
the
toughest
of
tough
babies
,
need
help
to
make
that
last
step
up
of
their
lives
.
Del
did
okay
,
though
.
He
stood
in
front
of
the
chair
for
a
moment
(
resolutely
not
looking
at
Percy
)
,
then
actually
spoke
to
it
,
as
if
introducing
himself
:
"
C'est
moi
,
"
he
said
.
Percy
reached
for
him
,
but
Delacroix
turned
around
on
his
own
and
sat
down
.
I
knelt
on
what
was
now
his
left
side
,
and
Brutal
knelt
on
his
right
.
I
guarded
my
crotch
and
my
throat
in
the
manner
I
have
already
described
,
then
swung
the
clamp
in
so
that
its
open
jaws
encircled
the
skinny
white
flesh
just
above
the
Cajun
's
ankle
.
Thunder
bellowed
and
I
jumped
.
Sweat
ran
in
my
eye
,
stinging
.
Mouseville
,
I
kept
thinking
for
some
reason
.
Mouseville
,
and
how
it
cost
a
dime
to
get
in
.
Two
cents
for
the
kiddies
,
who
would
look
at
Mr.
Jingles
through
his
ivy-glass
windows
.
The
clamp
was
balky
,
would
n't
shut
.
I
could
hear
Del
breathing
in
great
dry
pulls
of
air
,
lungs
that
would
be
charred
bags
less
than
four
minutes
from
now
laboring
to
keep
up
with
his
fear-driven
heart
.
The
fact
that
he
had
killed
half
a
dozen
people
seemed
at
that
moment
the
least
important
thing
about
him
.
I
'm
not
trying
to
say
anything
about
right
and
wrong
here
,
but
only
to
tell
how
it
was
.
Dean
knelt
next
to
me
and
whispered
,
"
What
's
wrong
,
Paul
?
"
"
I
ca
n't
--
"
I
began
,
and
then
the
clamp
closed
with
an
audible
snapping
sound
.
It
must
have
also
pinched
a
fold
of
Delacroixs
skin
in
its
jaws
,
because
he
flinched
and
made
a
little
hissing
noise
.
"
Sorry
,
"
I
said
.
