Dr Jew

a blistered path of blood and paste until it found the other side of the skull and the brief freedom of the air. Jimmy fell and hit the ground like soggy garbage (CASTUC).
    Swan could not keep his eyes open. He squeezed them as hard as he could and the air ran in and out of his lungs so fast, so fast. His voice came out with vibratory music, a battered radiator. People were acting as they shouldn't. They confused. They frightened him. A living man was before him one moment and exploded and slung into non-being the next. Air had taken the man's place.
    "Hey, you."
    A voice from anywhere, nowhere. He could see the sound as it shattered the red through his closed lids.
    "Swan. Swan!"
    Swan opened his eyes to see Dave and feel his hand on his arm, shaking him. "Swan! Swan! Snap out of it."
    "Nhhhhuhuh."
    "He got epilepsy maybe," said Vinny.
    "Shut up , Vinny. Swan! Come on! It's okay."
    "We can 't stick around," said Vinny. "Silencer or no silencer someone's gonna show soon."
    "I said shut up. You stay here and keep an eye on the kid while I search the place."
    "You 're still gonna… Jesus, don't you get it? We leave now and we stay out of prison. No cash, yeah, but no iron bars. We stick here two more minutes and the rest of this racket's gonna turn up. If not them, the cops. Let's get out of here."
    "You seem to be confused who 's in charge here," said Dave. "Here, take this. Anyone walks through that door, kill 'em."
    Vinny took the gun and Dave went to the living room and started searching closets, under tables, anywhere. He was gone nearly a minute.
    "Nothing?" said Vinny.
    "I don't get it," said Dave. "They always have it in the kitchen. I looked everywhere."
    Swan regained his composure and said, "Did you look in the fridge?"
    "Why in hell would they keep money –"
    "You should check," said Vinny. "You didn't, did you?"
    Dave returned to the kitchen and opened the fridge. The shelves had only drinks, a salad and Styrofoam box of leftovers (Dave opened it to make sure), some guacamole dip. He slid the vegetable drawers open. Nothing.
    "Just food," he said.
    "Try the freezer," said Vinny.
    In the freezer he found two bags of ice. He pulled them onto the floor. All that remained beneath was a metal box with $185,000.
    Dave returned to Vinny and Swan. "Jackpot," he said. "Give me the bag, Swan."
    Swan was shaking, still in shock. He took a garbage bag out of his pants pocket, uncrumpled it, and gave it to Dave, who put the metal box inside it.
    "C 'mon, c'mon," said Vinny.
    "Give me the gun," said Dave.
    "Sure – although it'd probably be better for me to carry it if you're gonna carry the money. Isn't this why you wanted me along?"
    "Yes. But I don't trust you. Give it to me."
    Vinny snorted an invisible laugh and handed the pistol to Dave. "Which begs the question why we're working together."
    "You 're right," said Dave. "And perhaps you'd like what our friend Jimmy got so we won't have to trouble each other any further."
    "What are you – "
    "Ah, shut it. Let's go. Come on, Swan."
    The three men left. The hallway was poorly lit and empty, silent. In the hall they passed an old man and tried to keep their faces averted. Dave had the gun in his pocket but the old man either noticed them or didn't. They walked on steadily and tried to appear unrushed. Within seconds they were in Dave's car, heading to the Richmond district.
    "You can breathe easy now, boys," said Dave. "The show is over for today."
    His words were met by a silence that satur ated the car like a rising tide. Swan was still living a horror. Vinny was deep in thought.

XXIX.

    Philip 's a good composer and I knew he was getting worse, if not through the dark circles around his eyes then by the shoddy quality of his music on this film (yes, I allow my self to call it music in my head, not atmospherics – ghastly term). Of course I want him well. Of course. But I never expected –
    "You have to hear this! You'll love it, Sergio."
    "I… will?"
    And he put the headphones on and I heard in that strain the milky shadows of undiluted emotion that I first knew when he played his music for me in college, as a teenager. It was like seeing an old friend for the first time in years.
    "Phil, this is good. This is beyond good."
    "I kno w. I can hear it. I've had my ears reborn."
    "What happened ? You look great."
    "I look like the second guy in a before/after advertisement. I don't recognize the man in the mirror. It's that stuff Dr. Jew gave me. Has to be. I