THEY WERE everywhere in the fog, two dozen of them, jumping up and down and howling. Easy stood with his back to the raw adobe wall he’d just climbed over. When he had heard the first scream he threw his big right hand up toward his shoulder holster. Now he relaxed, watching the naked people bounding on the wide side lawn of Dr. Ingraham’s sanitarium. There were more nude women than men and they were screaming and yowling with more enthusiasm and abandon. One naked man was rolling on the grass, pounding his fists on the wet lawn. Another was skipping through the mist and fondling anyone he could catch. “Hagopian would enjoy this,” Easy said to himself. He crossed the patch of dry grass he’d landed in. He was fifteen feet along a curving white gravel path when a small naked blonde stepped from behind a gnarled cypress tree, smiling. “There’s no need to be timid and standoffish,” she said in her small vaguely southern voice. “Just get down to your skin and start howling.”
