“Let’s see that wound shall we?” said Frank, gently feeling the back of the boy’s head. “Oh wow, that still looks quite nasty. Big scab form...ng but it not’s bleeding so that’s good. I don’t think there was any more blood on your pillow, was there?”“I don’t know, I don’t think it felt wet this morning.”“How about your shoulder?”“Hurts like crap still. Do you think I dislocated it?”“No, unlikely, otherwise I think you’d be screaming right now.” Frank knelt down in front of the young boy and. "Abigail's routine was simple. Sit in the chair near the window for a few minutes, watch the lifeless phone and fidget. Then get up, grab the phone, and call Jack. Wait for the answering machine, hang up and pace back and forth between the chair and the room door for a few minutes.Wash, rinse, repeat.The wait was excruciating! It'd been several hours since she'd gotten Jack's message, but it seemed like days. She glared at the phone, sending futile telepathic messages for it to ring. She popped. More

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