Chapter 57: Garris's Reasons

Garris's room reeked of the same smell Fresco remembered from his first visit. Burned flesh, decay and chemicals. His bandages were thinner, less clublike. But it meant it was easier to see the fluids seeping through as his burns continued to weep. Fresco had to look away, only to find his eyes drawn again and again to the rim of pale red and yellow standing out against the white gauze. Fresco adjusted the mask over his face with the thin latex glove, hating the closeness of the fabric and wishing it did more to block out the scent. He took a seat in the yellow plastic chair next to the bed, not sure what to do or say. The nurse remembered him fortunately, so getting in was easy. But making Garris talk to him seemed to be something else entirely.

The man seemed far less friendly than his note implied. He didn't even try to communicate, just lay there and ignored him while Fresco told him what he learned.