Dust City
“I’m suddenly pressed to the earth. Something heavy, like a pair of warm cushions, pounds into my back. They come together and pinch my spine. I’m lifted off the ground, suspended in the air like a cub in his mother’s mouth—only this is one hell of a mother.
“YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.”
I’m above the trees, face-to-face with the oversized gravedigger. The veins on his tuberous nose are thick and ropy, like the roots of a tree in one of Doc’s paintings. His beard reeks so strongly of tobacc...o I can feel the nicotine creeping down my throat. When I start choking it only makes him angry. He shakes me, and I flap like a hooked fish.
“YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ON ONE OF THOSE BUSES.”
Then I see it—the reason he’s a gravedigger down here in the City instead of living like a prince up in Eden. There’s something wrong with him. There’s a wild, empty look in his eye. He’s not all here. He’s loopy.
This could be a problem.
“I HATE WOLVES. WOLVES BITE,” he informs me.MoreLess
“YOU ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE.”
I’m above the trees, face-to-face with the oversized gravedigger. The veins on his tuberous nose are thick and ropy, like the roots of a tree in one of Doc’s paintings. His beard reeks so strongly of tobacc...o I can feel the nicotine creeping down my throat. When I start choking it only makes him angry. He shakes me, and I flap like a hooked fish.
“YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ON ONE OF THOSE BUSES.”
Then I see it—the reason he’s a gravedigger down here in the City instead of living like a prince up in Eden. There’s something wrong with him. There’s a wild, empty look in his eye. He’s not all here. He’s loopy.
This could be a problem.
“I HATE WOLVES. WOLVES BITE,” he informs me.MoreLess
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