SIXTEEN That spooky Mike guy had gone striding up into the hills, off on Christ knew what kind of errand. Doot had peeked around the corner of the clinic building and watched him go. Something wild was going on around here-the guy sure wasn't all fucked up and half paralyzed now. He went up the hillside, even the steep parts, as though he were on rails. Before that, the guy had busted off the chains around the control valves and sent the rotten-smelling inky water spilling into the swimming pool. That had been weird, too-the guy had stood there with his hands on his hips, looking all pleased with himself, like he'd discovered a gusher of oil instead of a bunch of stuff that looked like something had died in it. Doot had been able to watch the guy from his spy point at the building's front. He'd snapped his head back out of sight when Mike had turned and looked around, just in time to avoid being spotted. He couldn't see where Mike had disappeared, way up in the hills.
