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This was Third, all right. Ace Camera was adjacent to O'Casey's. |
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Please, he thought. Please, let her be OK. |
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Just ahead, the overhang of O'Casey's awning blocked out the rain. Beyond the curtain of darkness, light spilled onto the sidewalk. Trev hurried toward it. He thought of Hemingway and the clean, well-lighted place. This was a dry, well-lighted place. A safe refuge from the storm. |
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Though he ached to get there, he also felt dread. |
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Then he was under the awning, out of the rain, standing in the light. He gazed through the open space where O'Casey's window used to be. He felt as if his brain were squeezing itself into a cold, dark ball. |
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Numb, he made his way to the open door. |
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He entered and scanned the restaurant. Nothing moved. He felt half blind, trying to see through the eyeholes. With one hand, he pulled off Patterson's hat and dragged the plastic hood over his head. He set them on the nearest table and breathed deeply and realized he was making wheezy noises just like Francine. |
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He wanted to call out for Maureen and Liam, but he knew he didn't have enough breath for that. |
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He moved carefully through the room. The hardwood floor was slick with patches of dark water, spilled beer and blood and slabs of pizza. It was littered with window glass, overturned benches and tables, broken steins, wine and soda glasses, pitchers |
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