The man reached out to her and touched her shoulder. “It’s been a long day, Maggie. Why don’t we just ... retire to the Tiki Tent.” He tried to sound optimistic. “There’s still enough vegetables for b****y Marys—I’ll be the bartender.” He looked at her hopefully.
“Please, God,” said the younger woman. “I’m dying here.”
Maggie looked back and forth between them and then at him, at Ank. She stroked the side of his snout gently. “So we know now that you’re thinking ... we just don’t know what. Nor what to do with you.”
At last she powered something down and said to the others, “Lisa, can you change out his I.V.? Tom? If you’ll get the lights?”
And then they were gone and the room was dark save for the lights of the instruments and the glow of the tanks. And the next day there were two; no
