InterludeReeling down a grim, grimy passageway, Randolph stopped, sucking in his breath, and gingerly felt the raw flesh where Rooster's gnarled hand had squeezed him – squeezed him as tight as a lemon. With his eyes watering uncontrollably, he stumbled on, all sense of place and direction lost. A few people snarled at him as he barged into them before staggering down a high brick walled passageway, but he paid them little heed, anxious to get away as fast as he could. The memory of Rooster, his massive frame looming over him with those great, frying-pan hands, frightened him beyond measure. Within the time it took to take a breath, he gave up everything, every detail he could remember, and what he couldn't, he invented. And now he knew, as sure as night followed day, that if the pawnbroke
