“So, anyway,” Daw continued, “I went up to the next roof where I could catch a breeze. No one up there, either, so I figured I was safe enough. I was beat, but not so bad I forgot to get out my protection.”
“What was that?” Mike asked when Sage told him what Daw said.
“An iron bar. We, well a lot of us, carry something in case punks come after us. Not that it did me any good this time. Like I told them—” Daw nodded toward the other ghosts, “—I woke up when the bastard put his hand over my mouth. The next thing I knew I was being thrown off…” He paused, frowning. “No, no, that’s wrong. I just remembered. I tried to fight back, to get my bar, but he already had it. Maybe he saw me hide it under my pack; maybe he got lucky and found it. He hit me with it. It dazed me enough I stopped fighting. Then he picked me up and, well, you know the rest.”