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Bones？ said Edie。
You don't want to know； Snapper said。 Honestly。
They were walking along the sidewalk； across the street from the house they had chosen on the drive…by that morning。 Now the neighborhood was pitch black except for the erratic flicker of flashlights and the glow of a few small bonfires。 Many families had abandoned the crumbled shells of their homes for nearby motels； but a few men had stayed to patrol against looters。 The men wore pinched tense expressions and carried shotguns。 Snapper was glad to be white and wearing a suit。
The house he and Edie Marsh had chosen wasn't empty； dark or quiet。 A bare light bulb had been strung from the skeletal remains of the roof； and the gray…blue glow of a television set pulsed against the plaster。 These luxuries were explained by the rumble of a portable generator。 Edie and Snapper had seen a fat man gassing it up earlier in the day。
The street was either Turtle Meadow Lane or Calusa Drive； depending on which of the fallen street signs was accurate。 The number 〃15600〃 was sprayed in red paint on an outside wall of the house； as was the name of the insurance pany： 〃Midwest Casualty。〃
A big outfit； Edie noted。 She'd seen the mercials on television； the pany's symbol was a badger。
〃A badger？〃 Snapper frowned。 〃The fuck does a badger have to do with insurance？〃
〃I dunno。〃 Edie's mouth was dry。 She felt sleepy。 〃What does a cougar have to do with cars？ It's just advertising is all。〃
Snapper said； 〃The only thing I know about badgers is they're stubborn。 And the last goddamn thing we need's a stubborn insurance pany。〃
Edie said； 〃For heaven's sake…〃
〃Let's find another house。〃
〃No！〃 Weaving slightly； she crossed the street toward 15600。
〃You hear me？〃 Snapper called； then started after her。
Edie wheeled in the driveway。 〃Let's do it！〃 she said。 〃Right now； while it's quiet。〃
Snapper hesitated； working his jaw like a dazed boxer。
〃e on！〃 Edie tugged her hair out of the bun and mussed it into a nest in front of her face。 Then she hitched her dress and raked her fingernails up both thighs； tearing tracks in her nylons。
Snapper checked to make sure none of the neighborhood vigilantes were watching。 Edie picked a place on the driveway and stretched out； facedown。 Using two broken roof trusses； Snapper did a superb job setting the scene。 Edie was pinned。
From under the debris； she said； 〃Blood would help。〃
Snapper kicked a nail toward her left hand。 〃Take it easy。〃
Edie Marsh held her breath and scratched the point of the nail from her elbow to her wrist。 It hurt like a bitch。 She wiped her arm across one cheek to smear the blood for dramatic effect。 On cue； Snapper began shouting for help。 Edie was impressed； he sounded damn near sincere。
Max Lamb congratulated himself for stocking up on video supplies before they drove down from Orlando。 Other tourists had not e so prepared for the hurricane and could be seen foraging through luggage in a manic search for spare tapes and batteries。 Meanwhile； pausing only to reload； Max Lamb was piling dramatic footage of a historic natural disaster。 Even if C…SPAN wasn't interested； his friends in New York would be。 Max was a junior account executive at a medium…sized advertising firm； and there were many persons whom he yearned to impress。 Max was handy with the Sony； but it wouldn't hurt to seek professional assistance； he knew of a place on East Fiftieth Street that edited home videos and； for a small extra charge； added titles and credits。 It would be perfect！ Once Bonnie settled down； Max Lamb would ask her about throwing a cocktail party where they could screen the hurricane tapes for his clients and his colleagues at the agency。
Max trotted with predatory energy from one wrecked homestead to another； the video camera purring in his hand。 He was so absorbed in recording the tragedy that he forgot about his wife； who had stopped following three blocks ago。 Max had wanted to show Bonnie how to use the camera so he could pose amid hurricane debris； she'd told him she would rather swallow a gallon of lye。
For editing purposes； Max Lamb kept a mental inventory of his best shots。 He had plenty of rubble scenes； and felt the need to temper the visual shock with moments of poignancy…vignettes that would capture the human toll； spiritual as well as physical。
A mangled bicycle grabbed Max's attention。 The hurricane had wrapped it； as snug as a wedding band； around the trunk of a coconut palm。 A boy no older than eight was trying to remove the bike。 Max dropped to one knee and zoomed in on the youngster's face as he tugged grimly on the bent handlebars。 The boy's expression was dull and cold； his lips pressed tight in concentration。
Max thought： He's in shock。 Doesn't even know I'm here。
The youngster didn't seem to care that his bicycle was destroyed beyond repair。 He simply wanted the tree to give it back。 He pulled and pulled with all his might。 The empty eyes showed no sign of frustration。
Amazing； Max Lamb thought as he peered through the viewfinder。 Amazing。
Something jostled his right arm； and the boy's image in the viewfinder shook。 A hand tugged at Max's sleeve。 Cursing； he looked up from the Handycam。
It was a monkey。
Max Lamb pivoted on one heel and aimed the camera at the scrawny animal。 Through the viewfinder he saw that the monkey had e through the storm in miserable shape。 Its auburn fur was matted and crusty。 A bruise as plump as a radish rose from the bridge of its broad velvet nose。 The shoe…button eyes were squinty and ringed with milky ooze。
Swaying on its haunches； the monkey bared its gums in a woozy yawn。 Listlessly it began to paw at its tail。
〃See what we have here…a wild monkey！〃 Max narrated； for the benefit of future viewers。 〃Just look at this poor little fella。。。。〃
From behind him； a flat voice： 〃Better watch it； mister。〃 It was the boy with the broken bicycle。
Max； the Handycam still at his eye； said； 〃What's the matter； son？〃
〃Better watch out for that thing。 My dad； he had to shoot one last night。〃
〃Is that right？〃 Max smiled to himself。 Why would anyone shoot a monkey？
〃They're real sick。 That's what my dad said。〃
〃Well； I'll certainly be careful；〃 said Max Lamb。 He heard footsteps as the strange boy ran off。
Through the viewfinder； Max noticed the monkey's brow was twitching oddly。 Suddenly it was airborne。 Max lowered the camera just as the animal struck his face； knocking him backward。 Miniature rubbery fingers dug at Max's nostrils and eyes。 He cried out fearfully。 The monkey's damp fur smelled awful。
Max Lamb began rolling in the dirt as if he were on fire。 Screeching； the wiry little creature let go。 Max sat up； scrubbing his face with the sleeves of his shirt。 The stinging told him he'd been scratched。 For starters he would require a tetanus booster； and then something more potent to counteract the monkey germs。
As he rose to his feet； Max heard chittering behind the palm tree。 He was poised to run； until he spotted the monkey loping with