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Prologue

The fire begins in the basement

Does it hurt?

Yes and no This is, after all, what I wanted

And I’ now

But the fear is al, immense This body, our last body, our final chance, will be burned to dust

What will happen to me then?

Fro roo s heat

From the attic to the roof, from the roof to the basement

We burn

Sandra wants to place a bet on whether or not Richard Walker will die at ho She wasn’t a gambler when she was alive I can say with authority that it was one of the only vices she didn’t have Nowadays it’s bet you this, bet you that

“He’ll croak right here, you’ll see,” Sandra says And then, “Stop crowding me”

“I’ you”

“You are You’re breathing on my neck”

“Impossible”

“I’ you what it feels like”

Richard Walker moans Is it possible that now, after all these years, he can understand us?

Doubtful Still, an interesting idea

Hoe speak? In creaks and whispers, in groans and shudders But you know You’ve heard us You simply don’t understand

The day nurse is in the bathrooh she must knoe all do—that they can’t help hih syrup, sweat, and the sharp, animal scent of urine, like an old barn The sheets have not been changed in three days

“So what do you think?” Sandra presses “Home? Or in the hospital?”

I like , watery hours, the soupiness of tiht Hours are different shades of hot and warer pay attention to the clocks Why should we? Noon is the taste of sawdust, and the feel of a splinter under a nail Morning isis the s, and the feel ofaround our skin

Divisions: that’s e need Space and lines Your side, reatest fear, the danger of being dead It’s a constant struggle to stay yourself

It’s funny, isn’t it? Alive, it’s so often the reverse I re desperate for soed to talk to Ed about this or that—I don’t re at the pictures

Now it’s only the secrets that truly belong to iven up too many to Sandra already

“Hospital,” I say at last

“I’ll bet you he croaks right in that bed,” Sandra says, gleeful