Bobby on a StickChapter 4
I was sipping at some sludge that Steve had made insisting it was coffee, and though a large array of scientific tests could factually prove he might have been telling the truth, I could not think of it as anything other than a cup of swamp water with some mud thrown in for flavor. He made lousy coffee, but perfect Heimlich maneuvers. We had been talking for the better part of an hour, old Mama Adele still lying on the floor since no-one had bothered to even move the body out of the way, not...