Jane Doe [antikvár]

Saturday Febrmry 15th Watermark Slough Sacramento River Delta The pounding sounded like it was coming from the mside of his skull, but he wasn't sure. The only certainty was that his head ached like hell, the pain cutting through his frontal lobe with the subtlety of a laser. His stomach didn't feel so hot, either. It was a pool of bile, his whole body a vat of poison. At that moment, death didn't seem like such a bad idea. Frank Keegan slowly opened his eyes. He saw a ceiling. It looked familiar. It was his ceiling, and he appeared to be in his bed. That was promising, though he wasn't sure what it meant. Groaning, he rubbed his head, only then realizing the pounding was coming from somewhere out there in the great void. Yes, he could hear it plainly now—^loud knocking, and a voice, somebody shouting. •'Frank!" came the muffled sound from outside. "Frank, you home?" He would have said, "No, I'm dead," but opening his jaw took real effort and he wasn't sure he could get a sound past the cotton in his mouth. The banging on his door continued, but he didn't much care. If he was being warned of fire, well.