THEY HAVE MOUNTED a flat screen in the corner of the snack bar, near the ceiling, so that theatergoers can watch the movie as they wait in line. “I know all about delivering babies,” says Mrs. Skinner, whose husband has been eaten alive by giant rats. “Living on a farm you get to know those things. Everything’s going to be all right.” She is talking to a young woman named Rita, who is about to go into labor. They are holed up in a cabin, waiting for the rats.
He weaves through the maze of metal handrails and waits in line, which consists mostly of older teenagers and some people in their forties. The old-style fluorescent overheads cast everyone in a pale-white light; the floor is covered in sawdust like the hog pens at the Interstate Fair. Everything smells of hot butter and rank perfume
