It was another hour before Wade rejoined us. The sky was turning dark. I’d peeked out earlier to see if the birds had finished their snack, and there was nothing left but a clean-picked pile of bones. That could have been Wade, I thought, shuddering. I heard Wade clear his throat, cough, and say, “Am I going to die?”
Sandy burst into tears and ran to the bathroom. Girls, I thought. If she could stereotype boys, then the same back at ‘cha. “No, you’re not going to die. In fact, I think Sandy wants you to father her babies.”
“Sure. That’s fine. Can I have some water?”
I got that and two aspirin. “You should have stocked up on better drugs,” I said. “Or weed, that would be good.”
“Well,” said Wade with a very weak grin. “Out behind the garden in the flower bed…the, uh, neighbors might hav
