The lock-checking man attaches another puck to the unit of a delinquent renter, 434, and were the drying fans of the automated car wash silenced along with the high pressure nozzles and the earphones from his MP3 player he uses to drown out all the noise, he might have heard Gray’s screaming.
Karen learned and believed since a tender age that her value as a person would be ameliorated as a mother.
The emotion that drove Gray’s abduction is growing more cognitive, while Gray’s emotion is retreating to something more primitive.
This is a ritual she devised after therapeutic sessions dealing with her sense of worthlessness, a mine attached to the bottom of her soul when her first husband left her for someone fertile.
The highlighted record had no numbers, no amounts of what was prescribed, and no notes of what was administered, because that information was part of the treatment of the mother, not the baby.
Flooding leaves behind this same smell, or a tornado, the undoing of old construction, a mold mixed with the unlocked dust of gypsum released from its paper sandwich.
It is here where the irony of this is not lost on Ian. He is about to perform a procedure that if unwarranted would be considered torture, but for Gray, this is the only way Ian can get fluids into him barring an IV, something outside of Ian’s scope of care for his daughter.
He processes her, sizing up this little woman with this strange request.