Chapter 22From Joe MacAree’s journal (undated):
His need for blood consumes. The world suddenly has turned crimson; everywhere he looks he sees the color, the shape of flowing blood. It spouts from the top of a lamp in a furniture store window, shooting high like some bloody ejaculate; a little boy in the zoo stops to drink from the water fountain and blood arcs out, and he envies the little boy who bends down and sucks up the blood hungrily. He watches it run down the boy’s chin, staining his shirt. The animals in the Lincoln Park Zoo all sport open wounds. In some the blood oozes out; in others an artery has been hit and the blood spurts. The animals don’t seem to mind, and he longs to vault the fence separating him from them. Everywhere he hears the sound of rushing blood, pounding in
