Calamity’s arm drops back down to her side like the gun is suddenly too heavy for her. “Sorry, Danny,” she says in the Sarah voice. She’s lying in a hospital bed, shirt removed but her whole chest wrapped in soft white bandages. Her arm is gone at the shoulder—no stump, no nothing, just gone. A square of gauze is taped over her left eye, and her face hangs slack with weariness. “Thought you were another one of those things. Nice colors.”
