“I dunno. Check around. Pop wasn’t home, huh?” replied Deadman from the sink, washing his bloody face with his bandanna. “No. I left a message...and told him where I was.” Nothing was in the refrigerator except beer, mayonnaise, and a few packs of batteries, so I closed it. “I hope he’ll come to pick me up soon, because I really have to go.” “Reckon he’s calling the cops to look for you?” “N-no. He won’t do that.” Belatedly it occurred to me that I had left a clear trail for anyone who cared to. ‘My son.’ He whispered. ‘Give me my son.’ His eyes emptied their desire at her. Her hands did not doubt. She opened his trousers and freed him. His manhood was dark and struggling for strength. Passion wrestled blood away from his wounds. She kissed his dry lips and held him. She must not delay. She did not hesitate. She rose to a crouch and lifted robe to waist. Her hands swiftly removed her undergarment and she stepped across his loins. There was no time to untie her sash. She lowered himself. More

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