Patterson, at Chay's feet. White fleshy fat, rippling like waves as he moves. His penis fully erect, hand pummeling it, his eyes unseeing, a strange ectoplasmic mist lingering about him, smothering his mouth, blinding his eyes.
Dewlike glistenings at the tip of his engorged phallus as he manipulates it with the frantic spasms of his hand.
His breathing irregular.
If he regains awareness, we're dead, Chay and me.
My right hand grips the knife handle, my left hand grips the blade, its bite cutting into my flesh. No feeling. No fear.
Like the Christ... blood. Like the Christ... rise again.