The gaping mouth, opening and closing, a fish on the bottom of the boat. He was ragged-headed, unshaven, raccoon pouches beneath the eyes, the cheeks puffy, the shoulders sagging under the restraints. The white jumpsuit was a size too big, billowing out like a balloon, making him appear small and lost beneath it. His knees rattled back and forth, his fingers reached and plucked under the cuffed restraints, as if he were playing an invisible accordion. It wasn’t clear if the movement was voluntary. Silence, breathing. Silence, breathing. “Wait, wait,” he said thickly, his tongue slow and lugubrious. “Sully?” “We got to go a little quicker,” Sully said. “I only got two minutes.” The man tried to rub his eyes, bringing a sharp rattle when his wrists hit the limit of their chains, startling him. He’d just woken up, they had him laced on some sedative, something.
