Six years later, Lucy Adresta’s heart still clenched when she enter the Environmental Protection Agency building in Washington. Therapy, distance and minor success had helped her progress. She had not healed.
To cure, Adresta needed to act. She’d only get one shot. Someone had to die. Today. Lucy had a slight preference that it not be her.
Jack “The Rat” Bonacon wore gaudy red plaid pants and a bright pink polo shirt. The motley attire clashed with the staid, marble corridors. He didn’t care. It was late Friday before the four day weekend for Independence Day. The usually busy halls were empty. If any of his staff saw him, they’d be too cowed to make comments about his attire. He was upbeat and looking forward to the golf trip with industry buddies.
He rounded a corner and spotted Lucy approaching. It was too late to avoid his former colleague. Jack faked a smile, “Doctor, what are you doing down from Baltimore?”
With a smile of her own, she said, “I was in town for some research meetings. Now, I’m trying to find Pete Turner.”
“Pete?” Jack was suspicious. Turner ran one of the divisions under Bonacon “Why are you looking for him?”
Adresta surreptitiously motioned Bonacon toward an alcove. She was not tall, but had to lean down, “I wanted to talk to him about new studies from my lab.”
Jack perked up, “What kind of research?”
The doctor was unable to contain her excitement. “We might have breakthrough data on health impacts. It could revolutionize pesticide regulation.”
Bonacon sensed an opportunity. Jack hadn’t joined to the Agency from an environmental commitment. He lacked a work ethic and hoped for a sinecure in the public sector. But, Jack had a knack for bureaucratic advancement. He exploited the darker aspects of office politics and sycophancy. He was venom clothed in a business suit. “Why Pete? Why didn’t you bring it to me?”
Adresta was pleased at his reaction. She demurred, “The work is preliminary and I know you’re busy. I wanted Pete’s professional input before I get carried away.”
Glancing at her briefcase. “Do you have the data with you?”
“Oh, no. It’s under lock and key at the lab.” She glanced at her watch and turned to leave.
Bonacon blocked her exit. The move shook his thinning hair and thickening paunch. “It sounds extremely important.”
Enthusiasm flushed her face. “I’ve never seen data this good. That’s why I’m holding it so close.” She whispered, “We don’t want industry to find out. You know how they can sabotage projects.”
Jack knew well. His mind was racing at how he could take advantage of this potential bonanza. He could worm his way in and take some credit. But, his mind moved to more familiar territory. If he shared it with his covert business allies or buried it in a bureaucratic quagmire, he could gain important chits.
Lucy noticed Jack’s garish outfit. She apologized, “How inconsiderate of me, I don’t want to keep you from your family.”
Jack waved at his golf clothes and dismissed her concerns. “Don’t worry. I’m driving to a golf weekend later.”
Adresta became flustered, “It was foolish to think someone could come up on a Friday afternoon.” She stepped around Bonacon. “I’ll stop by Pete’s office. Maybe I can schedule him to visit when we get back Wednesday. It was good to see you.”
Grabbing her arm, Bonacon said. “You don’t need Pete. Pete’s a poseur.” Although Turner was one of his minions, he didn’t trust him not to use such information for his own benefit.
“You think so? I was hoping for some expert feedback. If you don’t think Pete’s right, I guess I’ll find someone else.”
“Someone else?” Jack said with a hurt expression. “I’m insulted. I know that stuff much better than Pete.”
“You’d be great,” Lucy said brightening.
Bonacon knew to strike quickly. With a magnanimous gesture, “I got where I am by focussing on the details. We have to help our research partners.”
“That’s very generous, Director. When would you like to visit the Lab?”
“How about right now?”
“But, … your golfing trip?”
He asked, “The study is ‘revolutionary’ you say?”
“The best I’ve ever seen. It could speed up regulations by years.”
Bonacon started to move Adresta down the hall. “We don’t start golfing til tomorrow. It’s a short train ride to Baltimore.”
Adresta bubbled, “It will be fantastic for you to see the guts of the lab.” She tried to conceal her emotions. The plan might actually happen.
“I’d be honored.” Jack said flashing his most practiced smile. “The train runs every half hour, right?”
“We can make the next one.”
At Union Station, Bonacon reached for his credit card, but Lucy brushed him aside. “Let me get it to make up for your inconvenience.” She paid for the tickets with untraceable cash.
They ordered drinks. Lucy had a ginger ale, while Bonacon had his favorite sherry. “Ginger ale?” he asked.
She laughed. “Alcohol goes straight to my head. But, if today goes well, I’ll celebrate when I get home.”
Bonacon took a deep swallow and filed her drinking weakness away for later use.
Once underway, they talked EPA gossip. Eventually, Lucy said, “It’s terrible news about Genna leaving the Agency. She was a great manager and such a nice person.”
“Yes, terrible,” Jack, suppressed a smile and felt a glow of pride. Genna had been a rising star. Now, she was his latest victim. She’d been on the fast track. Jack didn’t like potential competitors anywhere near his track.
He had sown a few baseless rumors about sexual indiscretions. They spread like wildfire in the tinder of the office whisper network. Despite her vehement denials, they sullied Genna’s reputation and damaged her spirit. That was the beauty of slander, so easy to start, near impossible to disprove. Genna had insisted her managers find the source. Jack hadn’t worried. While people thrilled at the salacious, few had interest in digging out the truth.
To Jack, character assassination was the perfect crime. At times, he had been suspected. It contributed to earning ‘The Rat’ nickname he hated. His fawning with bosses had saved him from any consequences. Adresta was another example of his success. Years ago, they’d been peers. She was one of Jack’s early targets. His sabotage was why she was sidetracked at the lab. Lucy was naive and unsuspecting then. To Bonacon’s view, she hadn’t gotten more savvy since. Here she was providing him data that could seal his next promotion. Jack finished his drink and signaled for another.
They left the train at Baltimore’s Pennsylvania Station. A thunderstorm diminished. But, the skies signaled a violent red sunset. In the cab, Jack asked, “Tell me more about the study.”
Dr. Adresta explained. “Our new test can detect adverse impacts at much lower doses. Companies will have to significantly change their formulas. It could save a lot of lives.”
The Rat nodded. Such public health benefits rarely entered Jack’s calculation. His was a simple analysis. If something profited him, that determined his actions. Bonacon couldn’t understand anyone with a different approach. Patsies. Some might castigate his betrayal of his public service oath. To him, “all’s fair” was a practical motto. In fact, the duplicity gave him the added pleasure of an aura of danger and exhilaration.
They arrived at the university and crossed the deserted campus. The EPA facility was in a building beyond the medical school hospital.
The structure was old and drab. Lucy had told her staff she’d be out of town for the weekend and let them leave early. To Jack, it didn’t look like an institution that would produce world class research. But, science budgets were tight. There was no room for architectural niceties.
Lucy led him down the corridor. “My office is this way.” The room was small and overflowing with scientific paperwork. Jack recoiled at the cramped space. Partly from his claustrophobia. And, office size mattered to Jack. It was one of his measures of status. His own space was roomy and had a view of the Washington Monument.
Adresta removed her coat and pulled on a white lab smock.
“Should I get one?” Jack asked.
“You won’t need one.” She lifted keys from a hook and turned left out of the office. As they walked, she pointed to doors and named some of the researchers and their projects.
Jack didn’t listen as his head buzzed from the alcohol. Bonacon just wanted to get the prize.
They took narrow stairs down to the laboratory. Their steps echoed in the shawl of silence.
When the lights came on, they illuminated a foreign land of stone tables, sinks, beakers, specimens and advanced machinery. Most of the wall charts were beyond Jack’s comprehension. Waving her hand, Lucy said, “This is where the magic happens.”
“Seems a little cold,” Jack couldn’t help saying.
She looked around, “When it’s empty. But, we like it here. Pure science. No Headquarters bureaucratic politics.” Then added, “No offense intended, sir.”
With disinterest, Jack answered, “None taken. Is this where the reports are?”
“They are down in the Vault. For security. This way.” The doctor unlocked a freight elevator and lifted the door. They dropped with a grating sound. When it jarred to a stop, they were at a dimly lit corridor. It was quiet as a crypt. Jack hesitated. “Is this part of your lab?”
Lucy smiled in the gloom. “We share the sub-basement with the med school. The Vault’s down here.” She started off.
Jack trailed. Despite the Summer heat above, the air was heavy and clammy. He felt a twinge of uncertainty. Ahead, Adresta stopped and unlocked a door. He followed her inside. A metal table was in the center of the room. File cabinets lined the walls. Two computer terminals were on the table. The walls were an institutional grey and the floor was aged black and white 1950s tile.
“Please have a seat,” she pulled out a chair and Jack sat.
“These terminals access that server,” she gestured to the corner. “For security, they aren’t connected to the internet. We keep our most sensitive data here. As you could tell coming down, it’s about as private and isolated as you can get.”
Bonacon couldn’t disagree. He felt uncomfortable in the tight and windowless chamber. Despite the overhead light, the room was gloomy. Jack lived in the shadows of innuendo and character assassination. Yet, he didn’t like dark and close places. Tapping his watch, Jack asked, “Could we get to the data?”
“Yes. Your time is short.” She typed in security codes. “The draft summary describes the key results. Read it, then, I’ll answer questions.”
Jack eyes widened with anticipation.
The doctor stood, “Let me get you a hard copy so you can take notes.” She moved to one of the cabinets and opened a drawer.
He concentrated on the text as his eyes scanned the screen.
Bonacon yelped at a sharp sting on his neck.
Adresta pressed her body against the back of his chair. Her left hand pushed his head forward trapping him in place. The Director tensed and struggled, but couldn’t move against the leveraged weight. Lucy completed the injection.
“What, … what the hell is going on?” Jack said in confusion.
Lucy pulled out the hypodermic. She continued to lean against him as the drug took effect. She started to perspire from the struggle and the implications of the irreversible action.
Bonacon flailed his arms at her. “What did you inject me with?”
“A narcotic to knock you out for a bit.”
“A narcotic!” His words slurred and his body slackened. As his mind spun, he managed, “Whhyy?” The last thing he heard was a distant, “Women helping women.”
Adresta relaxed her grip, but stayed alert. Lucy listened as his breathing settled into a relaxed rhythm. She set to work.
**********
Jack’s eyes fluttered, but wouldn’t focus. He sensed movement and heard sounds of wheels on the floor. He tried to speak and his tongue only flopped.
A muffled voice above him said, “You’re back from your nap. Good, I want you awake for this.”
As he fought the fog, Jack looked at the ceiling. Still weak, he tried to sit up and found he was constrained. When he could form words, he croaked, “Where are you taking me?”
Without looking at him, the doctor said, “Justice.”
Bonacon thought he misheard. Then, faded back into unconsciousness.
The gurney banged through heavy swinging doors. In the bowels of the complex, Lucy saw no need for quiet. She stopped at a door and with gloved fingers punched in a code on the keypad.
The doctor flicked on the lights and they entered a bright and severe room. Large steel storage drawers covered two walls. Broad operating tables formed a row down the center of the room.
Jack woke woozy and weak. The overhead fluorescent lights gave the room a sterile look. He recognized the space as a medical operating room.
Lucy parked the cart perpendicular to a wall. Working while he was still listless, she open one of the doors and slid out a metal tray. Undoing the straps, she rolled Bonacon onto the slab. He struggled to rise, but his body didn’t respond.
In a moment, Adresta had fettered him to the tray. Standing back, “That’s good. Those padded straps will prevent any bruising. Not that any one will care here.”
Jack couldn’t move in the restraints. “Where are we?”
“The Med School.” Lucy said over her shoulder. She walked to a cabinet and returned holding scissors and a scalpel. “This is the human gross anatomy lab.”
Bonacon gave her a puzzled expression.
Adresta felt a spark of energy from having control. All deference was gone from her voice. “It’s where medical students dissect corpses to learn about the body.”
His face twisted in fear. “What are you doing?”
“You’ve screwed your last person, Rat.”
“Help! Help me!” Jack screamed. His eyes searched the room and focused on the heavy door to the hall. “Somebody, help!”
Adresta stepped back. When he paused for breath, she said, “No one can hear you. Not in this room. And, no one’s around.” When he yelled again, she slapped him. “That’s enough. If you scream again, I’ll cram a rag in your mouth.”
His face stung from the strike. But, Jack was more astounded from the animus in her voice. Her typically upbeat eyes contained shattered fragment of darkness. He swallowed his urge to yell.
“Today, you’re donating your body to medicine.” She paused for effect as his eyes widened. “Think of it this way, you’ll finally be making a positive contribution to science. Young doctors will improve their skills cutting you up.” Adresta pointed to a sign on the wall. It read: ‘Mortui Prosumus Vitae = Even in death, do we serve life.’ “Some good may come from your carcass. Consider it a gift to the future of mankind.”
“That’s crazy,” he squeaked. “You can’t murder me. I haven’t done anything to you.”
“This is no time to lie. You think your treachery is secret. But, you’re transparent. Soooo,” she continued, “you can die slowly. Someone might even find you in time. Or, if you lie,” she nodded to one of the operating tables in the middle of the room, “I can cut you open now. I have to come back and drain your fluids anyway. If I do it now, it will save me a trip.” With deadly conviction, she added, “And, there won’t be anesthetic. Your choice.”
Jack felt sick. He tried to kick and strained at the straps.
“You tried to ruin my career.” Lucy spoke dispassionately. “If that was it, you wouldn’t be here. I hate what you did, but the laboratory is a nice refuge away from you and the other slime in DC. Yet, you’ve done it over and over again. You’re a serial fiend.”
“I’m not. You’ve got me wrong. I’ve never hurt anyone.”
Her eyes flamed and she waved the scalpel in front of his face. He shut up.
“Everyone knows what you are. Do you think we’re stupid? That’s why you’re called The Rat.”
“Don’t call me that!” he yelled.
The outburst stunned Adresta. “Despite the lives you’ve ruined, THAT’s what your upset about? Your nickname?”
“I’m not a rat.”
“If it doesn’t fit, a name won’t stick.” Then, “I should have acted years ago. But, I was young and didn’t want to swim in the shit. So, I took it. If I’d done something, maybe you wouldn’t have hurt others. When I heard about Genna, I said ‘enough’. This is my penance.”
Jack’s mind raced. He’d always been able to talk his way out of things. “Whatever you think I might have done, I never physically hurt anyone.”
“That’s your defense? You stifled careers and crushed hopes.” Her anger grew. “And, EPA needs good people. You chase them away.” She struck the table with her fist. The metallic sound echoed around the empty room. Jack flinched, afraid she might cuff him again. “You torpedoed health rules to protect industry. Those regulations would have saved lives. Don’t tell me you haven’t killed anyone. You’re the lowest form off life. Another reason your nickname fits you.”
“But, but, …” Bonacon sputtered.
“You’re still doing it. I knew you’d come up today. You took the bait. Like a rodent.” Adresta tried to regain composure.
Despite the cool temperature, foul sweat soaked his body.
The doctor said, “I’ve got some paperwork to do. Convince me why I shouldn’t let you die today.”
The Rat struggled to sound in charge, “You’ll never be able to prove any of those accusations.”
She shook her head in amazement, “You don’t get it. I don’t have to ‘prove’ anything. We’re not going to court. This IS your court.” Waving her arms at the room. “I’m the accuser. The judge. The jury.” She paused to take in a deep breath. Then, calmly, “And, the executioner.”
Lucy turned back to the desk. “This is your last appeal. Unlike you, I have a conscience and am still conflicted. Make your case. It’s more of a chance than you gave your targets.”
Bonacon wasn’t prepared for direct engagement on such matters. His expertise was indirect manipulation. His default tactic was denial. Jack summoned practiced indignation, “I’ve done nothing wrong. My conscience is clear.”
“Says the man with no conscience.” Adresta quipped without turning around. “You’ll have to do much better.”
Her confident tone took him back. Jack was used to deference from those he considered his inferiors. This wasn’t the tractable young woman he remembered.
She placed a clipboard beside his body. Adresta removed his wallet.
Bonacon barked in his best bullying tone, “You’re a thief as well as a kidnapper.”
Unperturbed, she replied, “Don’t project what you’d do. The money will go to a charity where it will do some good.”
Flicking through the wallet, Lucy paused when she saw a picture of Bonacon’s family. It cut at her resolve.
Jack saw the hesitation, “Please. I have a family.”
When she spoke, her voice was wrought, “We all have families.” Determination returned, “Did you ever think of them? What you put them through?”
She set the wallet aside. “This and your clothes will go in the incinerator. Ashes can’t be identified.” Lucy added, “You’ll become ashes as well. That’s where the John Does end up.”
He gagged on rising bile, “Stop talking like I’m dead.”
“Get used to it. You’ll be dead for a long time.” With disbelief, she added, “How are you still alive? I can’t be the only person who thinks you deserve to be removed.”
The Rat was genuinely surprised. Getting away with things for so long had made him feel immune to accountability. “What are you going to do to me?”
Welcoming the diversion from her misgivings, the doctor gave a clinical description. “I’m going to leave you in the drawer and let nature take its course. Our normal temperature is ninety-eight degrees. Here, it’s cold to preserve the specimens. The body starts shutting down when it drops a few degrees. Once you hit eighty, you become unconscious. Death occurs below a body temperature of seventy. In dangerous weather, this can take an hour.” Scanning the room, “Here, it will drag out longer. It will give you time to think.”
Bonacon’s sphincter seized. He scrambled for a way to change his fate. “You took an oath to do no harm.”
“Yes,” she paused as if considering. “But, we both took an oath at EPA to serve the public good. This does that.”
He turned to threats, “You won’t get away with this. You’ll be caught … and punished.”
“Jack,” she dragged out the word. “You got away with all the shit you’ve done, I’ll get away with this.” Lucy counted the reasons on her left hand. “No one knows you’re here. You’ll be one more missing person in a busy city. Any search will focus on DC, not Baltimore. With the holiday and your trip, it might not start until next week.”
With a sinking feeling, Bonacon realized his stealth in coming today had contributed to his isolation. He tried a new tack, “People here will suspect. You can’t just dump a body.”
“I’m an associate professor at the med school. With the right paperwork in the computer,” she tapped the clipboard. “You’ll fit right in. This is where bodies come.”
He shouted, “I’m not like them.”
Lucy stepped back from his vehemence. Instead of replying, she pulled out the next tray. The body of an old man lay naked. It was sagging and pallid. “When students open the slab, you’ll look like every other stiff, Rat.”
Bonacon stared at the corpse and cringed. It was not simply the reality of the pale carcass, but the emptiness. It was flesh, but no longer human. Eyes open, but unseeing. The sight hammered into Jack that this was his future. Not a distant and universal future everyone faced. An immediate and personal future. Hours ago, he’d been on his way to a fun weekend in the sun. How had things turned so swiftly?
The doctor left the body for him to contemplate. Lifting a pair of scissors, she walked to the other side of Jack’s tray and began cutting his inane clothes.
Transfixed by the corpse, Bonacon didn’t seem to notice. When he looked her way, his eyes held a deep fear as if finally appreciating his situation. “What now?”
“Dead men don’t wear clothes,” Adresta said.
“NOOOO!!!” he wailed. Embarrassment at his exposed nudity should have been a minor concern. But, he couldn’t help his human reaction.
She continued slicing and yanked away pieces of his outfit. “Time’s running out. You’re not being persuasive. Don’t you have any good arguments to make?”
His eyes were tearing now. He tried to summon up sincerity. “Doctor, I’m sorry for what I did to you. But, that was years ago. You’ve got to get over it.”
Her expression went dark as a demon’s and held as much charity. “There’s no statute of limitations on depravity!” she spat. “Even when baseless, the taint of an accusation lingers. It’s easy to drop a rock in a lake. It’s impossible to stop the ripples. Besides, you just did the same thing to Genna. You’re intentionally cruel.”
Adresta’s unfocussed eyes rolled to the wall as she called up long considered thoughts. “You have a pathological desire to injure. Genna was no threat to you. You can’t help yourself.” Her shoulders slumped. “Your actions speak for themselves. Maybe it’s self-loathing. Maybe, it’s because you’re short. But, it’s not an excuse that you’re damaged goods.” She shook herself back to action. “I don’t care about your demons. I’m wrestling with my own.”
With a voice choked with self pity, Jack whined, “I don’t deserve this.”
“You had to work at it. But, the cumulative ruin from your serial assholery got you here.” Despite all the planning and preparation, Lucy hadn’t been sure if she could go through with it. Part of her had hoped the Rat would give her a reason, some excuse to change her mind. Or, not try to steal the data. She never wanted to be an avenging angel. But, he was a lost soul. Irredeemable. And, she wasn’t the same young victim. Now, she had steel. Maybe, that was due in some measure to Bonacon. But, it didn’t warrant a reprieve.
He laid quietly on the table. A vein pulsed in his temple. Bonacon said, “I only did what everyone does. Don’t be naive. There will always be people like me.”
With a hint of regret, Adresta said, “I’m not naive anymore. And, if everyone did it, you might not be here. It doesn’t justify your actions that other people are despicable.” Her eyes saddened, “In the bigger scheme, this is small. But, it’s something. One less criminal jerk.” She exhaled, “We do what we can.”
They were both silent. Lucy removed his shoes and socks and added them to the black plastic trash bag. The unforgiving light accented his sallow look. He cringed at her clinical examination of his soft, exposed flesh.
She removed something from the clipboard. Adresta secured an identification toe tag to his foot. It was simple: Gender – Male. Age – 49. Cause of Death – Hypothermia.
The finality of this action roused Jack. He said with as much conviction as he could muster, “I’ll change.”
“Your entire life says no. You’ve had your chances. This will give other people their’s.”
Even facing death, Bonacon couldn’t mount a good defense. The walls closed in on him, brick by brick.
Adresta collected a heavy surgical sheet. “This will slow down the hypothermia.” She spread it across him. “That’s why I chose this method. The extra time will let you ponder. I’m not sure there is an afterlife where you’ll contemplate and be punished for your sins. While you’re cooling on the slab waiting for the end, ask yourself: How did I get here?”
She mused, “If you hadn’t been greedy and gotten on the train, … who knows. But, it goes back further. To when you decided to be a sleazebag with no principles.”
Bonacon turned and spat venom in her direction, “When did you decide to become a MURDERER?”
The outburst ricocheted off the walls. If he expected it to shock her into changing her mind, it had no effect. Adresta replied with the answer she’d long contemplated. “I got here by making the decision to not let you harm anyone again. I think of it as community self-defense.”
He tried to play on her conscience. “Who appointed you god?”
“The same one who appointed you,” she snapped. “Besides, I’ve convinced myself it’s not murder. Your nickname helps, Rat. It dehumanizes you. I think of you as a disease carrying vermin. You’ve worked in the pesticide program. It’s not murder to eliminate a parasite.”
She shook herself alert and looked at her watch. “Times up.”
He intentionally used her first name. “Lucy, you don’t want to do this. You’re not that kind of person. It will haunt you.”
She returned his stare. “You’re right.”
Jack felt a glimmer of hope.
“I didn’t use to be this kind of person. Another of your sins, is how you’ve changed me. As I was planning and had doubts, I asked myself, ‘What would Jack do?’ And, here you are.”
Bonacon had the look of a defeated man. His maneuvers had failed him.
Lucy broke the moment. In a tone that was almost upbeat, she said, ”In a grey world, it’s rare to have a black and white choice.” Her mission was drawing to an end.
A last plea. Weak-voiced and frail. “I’m truly sorry.”
“Save it for St. Peter. I don’t think he’ll care either. He must hear a lot of this foxhole BS.” She paused and mumbled to herself. “It’s time to let you go.”
Jack rallied, “Thank you. I’ve learned my lesson.”
Lucy’s eyes were impassive ice and clarity of purpose. “That’s was a term of art. I’m not going to release you. I meant it’s time to leave you to your fate.”
Jack’s face collapsed.
Adresta slid the adjacent body back into the wall. Jack’s gaze followed it as the dark swallowed the corpse.
A crazed cackle erupted from Bonacon. Between gulps of air, “I get it. This is a prank! You got me. We’ll laugh about this for a long time.”
Adresta didn’t smile. “It’s as much a joke as what you’ve done. Go ahead, try to laugh it off.”
She stepped to the head of his slab.
Bonacon strained his neck to look up at her. His eyes screamed a plea. The telltale fetor of terror rose from his pores.
It was past time for words. Adresta heaved and the tray began its journey.
The void took his feet and consumed Jack. Sliding into the pit, more body parts disappeared. It was like the corrosive effect his actions had wrought on full lives. His world grew darker. The Rat’s eyes near left his skull as they strained to grasp every particle of the diminishing light.
The tray snapped into place.
Claustrophobia choked his throat. His heart bellowed. The blood in his ears was a gale. In the silence, the clamor was overwhelming.
The doctor looked in to see the immobile lump. She squeezed her eyes to preserve this memory as the termination of Bonacon’s toxic life. Adresta felt a purging of the venom that had kept her fractured, and she began the long climb out of her terrible well. She shut the door.
The Rat tried to scream. The onset of shivers stole the force. He inhaled the cold, malignant air.
Time passed. With his mind on overdrive, each second was an eternity.
Bill Diamond lives in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado where he writes to try and figure it all out.
