Malloy’s heart sped up as fear and anger at his helplessness shoved up his throat. But his eyes didn’t shift from Will. “Well?” he asked in exaggerated expectation.
At first, Will looked away, as though he might refuse. But then he said, “Alright. But slow.”
Malloy nodded graciously and got to his feet. The way back to Bobby and Reed seemed long. At last he turned the corner of the dead-end aisle and saw Bobby’s face. It shone against the shadowed floor, pale and wet, like the moon’s reflection in a rain puddle.
Malloy swallowed. He continued his slow walk, but not because Will had his gun near-to-hand. It was because of the reminder of death; death awed him, and he couldn’t shake its hold over him, heart, mind, and body. He came to Reed…
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