There is a checkpoint at the border of every man's soul, where the road which winds into the country of madness begins. At Omar's checkpoint there was no guard on duty, and he often wondered where the man had gone—or if indeed he had ever been there at all.
Clara meanwhile was trying to stuff her husband's brains back into his head. Sobbing, Savanna moved to draw her away but was drawn away herself by Roger and the clerk.
Omar swallowed once, blinked, and then turned to them.
His eyes were drunken and glassy as he warned: “Anymore bullshit, from any of you, and you 're going to be picking little pieces of his fat-body widow here out of my s**t, too ... dig?”
Everyone dug.
Then the crazed biker waved the gun at his fellows. “Anybody not with me?!”
An old hippie with a straggly gray be
