Moose was even happier he’d killed that man. He wanted to do it again. During the urgency of the moment he hadn’t thought much about it. Now he revisited all the details and felt no remorse. He had no doubt the dead man was connected to, even responsible for, much of what had occurred in the torture house. Only a mad dog would do something so terrible, so as far as Moose was concerned he’d put down a mad dog. That’s a good thing. It didn’t matter that he knew nothing about the man. Inside the warehouse, adrenaline had turbocharged him, readying him to challenge hell itself. His actions were almost a work of beauty. After the many hours of patrolling, the furious heat, all the complex and terribly inadequate conversations with these foreigners, and the apparent worthlessness of the informat
