(no subject)
Susannah lies on her bed. She can hear Eddie typing away in the next room, dead to the world. She eases into her chair and leaves a letter and a note on her desk, untying a cord that hangs around her neck and leaving it and the wooden ring that hangs from it to hold them down. Then she rolls to the place where they've stowed her old electric cart; Ho Fat III, as she and Roland dubbed it.
The battery is close to dead, but it'll take her as far as she needs to go. Her gunna, such as there is of it, is packed: her gun, and the clothes she wore into the bar.
She chugs slowly in the electric cart out of the room, listening carefully to make sure Eddie isn't catching on. She's halfway through the door when she feels herself falling, as if the world has dropped out from under her.
The battery is close to dead, but it'll take her as far as she needs to go. Her gunna, such as there is of it, is packed: her gun, and the clothes she wore into the bar.
She chugs slowly in the electric cart out of the room, listening carefully to make sure Eddie isn't catching on. She's halfway through the door when she feels herself falling, as if the world has dropped out from under her.