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Show 3A> mostly forward, head-first down the half-flight, turned a bit by her fall and turning herself just enough so that her head hit the wall a glancing blow whi*t»khtektd Utv 6t*b,iok;lt. A a straight on one might have been fatal, knocking herself out. At the moment I was yelling back up to Carrie that she had fallen on her own, on herd own, and why didn't she go back inside! She glowered at me with such hate that I was glad she didn't have a gun. I think she wanted to go in and call homicide but me bare-ass was too good to miss. Homicide could wait. I was shifting Kite so I could crouch behind her and hide my hairy parts, especially as other people had come out of kex their doors too, on the second floor the dignified man in suit and tie, first time I had seen him without his hat upon his silver hair, holding a napkin in one hand and starting forward up the stairs. "Is she all right?" "Yeah, yeah," I said quickly, trying to hide from him too. "Go on back, I can handle it. Go on back inside, I can haidle it, " I yelled, and no one moved. At the other second floor door was a woman with a kerchief over her curlers, in a robe, and beside her a six-year-old boy, staring while he chewed. 'Go on out of here!" I commanded. "Go back inside," said the woman to tne boy. "Why:" "This is not for you to see. Go.|Scat." "Why?" The boy did not move, especially his eyes. No one moved, they all watched me like hungry sharks. I had heard doors opening down on the first floor and now muffled footsteps on the stairs. "Kite!" I tried to jiggle her further into consciousness. "Come on, get up!" "My head. Oh my god my head hurts." "0 K/ but get up." Then I remembered something from highschool football and I held up one finger. "How many?" She looked I not at the finger but at me as if I was the one knocked silly. "How many fingers do you see?" I said sternly. |