Page 87
Chapter 89
Tress
There is no movement upstairs as I finish my work, the trowel heavy in my hand, the bricks impossible, but made possible, by dint of my will. I began something, I will finish it. Slowly, I entomb the body of Felicity Turnado.
My best friend.
Chapter 90
Tress
Upstairs again, my bad hand, purple and numb. I pick my way through the people, children no longer, my head clear now. Too clear. I know what I did.
I wake Ribbit, who smiles at me as soon as he opens his eyes. Naked. Trusting. A child. He sees my arm and wants to help, wants to fix it, wants to make everything better. I tell him it is unfixable, and he nods, still drunk, but seeming to understand the finality of unfixable.
We move through the yard, past what used to be William Wilson.
We put the Allan house behind us.
A house that will soon be torn to the ground.
Chapter 91
Felicity
I ask for the boy, as always.
“Hugh?”
His name bounces back to me. Echoed. Rejected.
“Hugh?”
There’s no answer but my voice, saying the same thing. Again.
“Hugh?”
I reach for him, because he always reaches, too, and we touch, and then everything is okay. Because touching Hugh is how I know I’m back. But he’s not here.
There’s no one here.
I open my eyes to find him, but they are already open, and I cannot open them more.
There is nothing to see.
But I can feel.
And all I feel . . .
. . . is bricks.
Chapter 92
Cat
No metal no fence no bars
no girl no man no Almost Human
