Chapter 15He looked around, ripped from his moorings.
Detective Maris Peterson wasn't anymore. Fugitive Maris Peterson had taken his place.
Further, the careful façade of civilization had been scraped off his backside, exposing the raw deceit of his anal society and the excrement being ejected in diahrresis.
“I was lucky to find this place,” Ilsa said.
Detritus of a hasty move littered the floor. Cracked glasma behind blinds hanging askew snickered at cobwebs strewn in haphazard profusion between wall and ceiling. Doors stood half-open, suspended in perpetual indecision. The abode reeked with long abandonment, its emptiness filled with the lonesome echoes of people who'd left years before.
He blinked at her, his mind blank. His body was a bundle of aches, victim to two high-velocity i
