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Show 28 The syringe is s t i l l f u l l ; the f l u i d is not in Theresa. Boaz draws back, wipes his arm across his forehead. "I thought it would be easier," he says, unsure, afraid. His eyes plead. But her eyes do not answer his. "Don't you know how to do this?" she asks, deliberately, almost coldly. " I n j e c t the anaesthetic d i r e c t l y into the peritoneum," he recites mechanically, l i k e a rote-learning schoolboy . "Be sure to avoid the internal organs..." "Haven't you done this before?" she asks, her voice kinder now. "No." "Then could we get somebody else to do i t for us, somebody who knows how?" Maia's thin voice is hopeful. Boaz turns on her. "I thought you weren't a coward." She does not answer. She sees him pick the syringe up off the f l o o r , the t i p of i t s needle tinged with blood, and as she tightens her grip on the dog, she sees him hold i t high, then thrust i t hard i n to the abdomen. The dog howls hard again, hard and long. Maia's arms are weak, suddenly weak, and she sees Boaz, his face sweating, his eyes narrow. She sees his hand move around on the syringe so that his thumb is on the plunger, so that he can press the f l u i d out of the syringe; she sees i t , sees Boaz' thumb press the plunger, slowly, sees the Nembutol move slowly out of the syringe, through the needle, into Theresa, and she looks down into Theresa's face, sees the brown eyes wide and motionless with terror, feels the huge howl of pain welling up from her throat, from her bowels, a constant, |
