“groaned Harry. He was leaning on the dining table and shaking his head. “I feel like everything’s made of wood. God, and you stomped my poor brain, Antie? Help me, Fletcher, I’m hurting bad.” “You want a drink?” I handed him the canteen. Harry tilted it up and worked his throat for a while. “Plastic,” he sighed, finally lowering the canteen. “At least now everything’s plastic.” “How long have you been under Gary’s control?” “Ever since the night we came back. The brains got Sondra and me while ...we were sleeping. What day is it today?” “Monday again. It’s been a week.” “Time goes fast when you’re having fun.” Harry twisted his head around, trying to get a look at his back. “Did it leave much of a mark?” “I’ll get a bandage,” volunteered Antie. “And some germ cream. Don’t worry, Harry dear.” She bustled off to the kitchen. “I—I was on TV,” said Harry. “Sondra and I were sort of starting a religion.” “Sort of? You’ve seen the crowds outside, haven’t you?”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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