|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Between Harvey's description of his class project and the disgusting thing lying in the middle of her kitchen floor, Cappy was certain she was going to be sick. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Harvey was caught up in the details of his explanation. "The way the teacher told us, muscles and nerves and stuff like that all got memories, so probably that hand is just movin' like that because it's been all crammed up inside the jar. I guess it's just sorta takin' its natural form." He looked at her, pleased he had been able to offer what sounded like a perfectly plausible explanation for the phenomenon. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"I don't give a damn what's making it move," Cappy snarled. "Get rid of it. It's disgusting." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"What do ya want me to do with it?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Who cares? Just get rid of it." She sidestepped around the grotesque thing, opened a cabinet drawer and pulled out a paper sack. "Here, put it in this, then put it in the garbage." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
As much as he didn't want to, Harvey complied with the lady's wishes. With the sack in one hand, he reached out with his thumb and index finger to pick it up. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The reaction was instantaneous. Like a mad dog lashing out with bared fangs, the fingers of the severed hand clamped around his own and there was the sickening sound of tiny |
|
|
|
|
|