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Show Anting Alone pa g e 191 Sam began to take notice that he was not really comforting Axelrad very much at all, rather causing the boy to twitch even worse. Of course, Sam's sadistic tendencies made him press on even though he consciously couldn't imagine why he should be affecting his little buddy so. "Let's say, hypothetically, that you guys were planning some kind of army-guy type of thing. Say an attack on a military place -" The zomboids had been milling around a bit more than usual for the past few minutes, coming and going, listening to Sam with tense, blank faces, responding in particular to Sam's more hypothetical propositions with inarticulate mouth noises., chipmunk noises, miniature lawnmower noises, back and forth, a regular secret language. Talking in tongues. They kept interrupting in mid-sentence the prologue to what Sam was sure was another brilliant anti-academic Sambo Sermon. (Of course, he was exempting his deep old mentor, Dr. Abraham, from his draft into scholar's hell.) "Fuck's their problem?" Sam bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Am I talking to the Living Dead or to you, Ax?" It occurred to Sam that, if obscenities were not the way to repulse these guys, bomb talk was the way. They acted as though they'd rather die than leave their little colleague alone with Sam for a second; yet they were compelled to get up and take turns leaving as it were for a breath of air now that Sam was on the subject of bombs and terrorism and death and combat. Sam had discovered their weakness: they were afraid of fire, like all vampires. So Sam continued on in this vein. "Anyway," he said, "for all your pud committee cares, you could just hallucinate something all black and white, all sci-fi here. You could throw |