CHAPTER 7JESUS HENRY CHRIST, SOMEONE WAS torturing him. Beating Matt’s back and butt with heavy, blunt objects of some sort. Just like that time in China when he got that massage and couldn’t move for two days after the masseuse finished, while Laslo laughed his ass off and made jokes about “happy endings.” No, this was worse. This was like he was being dragged over sharp objects. And dull objects. All kinds of objects, all of them painful as hell. He felt himself “oof” as his body was dragged up over something particularly large—and sharp—and fell off the other side.
Th’f**k?
Something was choking him also, like his shirt was garroting his neck. And whatever was doing the garroting was huffing moistly and drooling on his ear.
He recognized that drool.
Matt’s eyes popped open. He could
