“Goddamnit,” David Lundy hisses, and leans forward, leans his great pale head over Michael’s. And the straps lashing Michael to the gurney give way with a sound like someone slapping a wall, and Michael, flesh now bubbling in great red welts, his face a painted rictus of black oil, wraps his hands around the globe of David Lundy’s skull. “You and I have incurred a great debt,” Michael gasps, and the bones of David Lundy’s head crack like a breaking dish beneath his hands, and he squeezes still, squeezes until all the man’s dark and clotted life spills out onto Michael’s upturned face and David
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