Drool clung to the ex-mag’s chin, and he struggled to stifle a cough. Around them, the prisoners were watching warily, frightened by what Grant had done to their cellmate, scared that one of these mysterious strangers might put a bullet in them, too. Brigid looked up, saw the eyes upon her and the way the shambling figures were retreating to the farthest corners and walls of the room. “We’re not going to hurt you,” she said. From a cell to her left, something hissed. It was human, or it had been, but what was left had skin like tooled leather, and dull, discolored eyes the gray-black of storm clouds. “Everybody calm down,” Brigid said, echoing the words Grant had used a few minutes before. Then she turned her attention back to him. Grant’s eyes were closed and there was a new line of drool running from the side of his mouth. The drool was black. * * * KANE STOOD ALONE amid the tire tracks, watching the retreating plumes of sand get farther away.
