287

The house was dark and smelled of mold, but the board over the side door had been loose, so it would do for a night.  Had to be extra careful entering a house at night; not because there might be someone in it, but rather because the floor might be rotted out.  There wasn't anybody in a house on this whole, toothless block.

The floor was solid in what had been the kitchen and still solid into the dining room, living room, and, what, front parlor?  The house was actually rather large and might do with some exploring in the day.  The downstairs would always remain dark, though, because of the boards.  The floor was soft, not because of rot, but rather because of carpeting.  Probably was holding in a lot of the mold smell, too.

286

It was supposed to be  "name your price" sale, but Sam was still embarrassed to offer the church volunteer her measly three dollars for the paper shopping bag she had filled to overflowing.  Sam sat on one of the old upholstered chairs for sale and looked at her finds.  She tried counting the individual items, but kept losing track.  It would cost far more at a thrift store, but she couldn't afford thrift stores anymore.  Sam felt her eyes prickle as a complex wave of nostalgia and pity and helplessness surged through her.  She calmed herself with a resigned sigh.  Three dollars was all she had, so if they said no, so be it.

285

Constantinople was Istanbul.  Constantinople was Istanbul.  Oh, God, what's happening?  Think!  I'm Henry the Eighth, I am, I am, I'm Henry the Eighth I am...

"I can't, Henry.  I can't do it anymore!"  James was crying.  He couldn't wipe the tears away because his hands were tied, but he didn't notice or even care.

"Sing with me!  Sing it out loud, then!  I'm a Yankee doodle dandy!  Yankee doodle do or die!  Sing it for God's sake, dammit!  James!  Sing it!"  Henry was tied, too, but he was trying to stretch his shoulders enough to at least get his hands in front.  "A real, live nephew of my Uncle Sam!  Born on the fourth of July!"

James shook his head side to side and tried to mouth the words, but he wasn't concentrating enough.  "Henry, I..."  Henry fell to his back as his bound hands popped around his buttocks, which was lucky because most of James' skull shot over him when it exploded.

"Yankee doodle went to London just to ride the ponies.  I am a Yankee doodle boy!  Goddammit, James.  I'm a Yankee doodle dandy..."  Henry kept singing as he worked at the knots with his teeth.

284

In an impossible world filled with impossible things, sometimes the most plausible are the least believable.  A cry for help is quite plausible, especially in a bad neighborhood, where, impossibly, people hurt each other for no other reason than they feel they must.  It is plausible someone needs help, but it doesn't sound believable and no one comes.  No one helps.  The hurt continues.

It is also plausible that the choosing of the victim is random, but the victim is more willing to believe that he or she was targeted and, even more impossibly, will always be targeted and will be attacked again and again.