He's going to let me go home. McGill as much as said he'd work it out. I have to tell somebody. Tony's staring out the only window at a little patch of grass and the blank wall of another building. Thug Randy has his head in an old comic book. Pat's leaning back on the plastic-covered couch, his eyes half-closed. He'll have to do. Talking to a zombie's better than talking to myself.

       "McGill's gonna let me go home."

       Pat's eyelids flicker. "You just got here."

       "He said he was going to call some people. Make a plan."

       Pat snorts. "He always calls. Everybody that comes in here gets a plan. He's just building a file on you."