Dearly, Beloved

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Book: Read Dearly, Beloved for Free Online
Authors: Lia Habel
he pulled the turban down over his eyes and tried to grasp onto Laura’s skirt again.
    “Dog.” Laura moved to hug him. “They’re trying to help.”
    It was a horrible decision, but one that had to be made. “Dog, I know you don’t know us, and I know it’s hard to think about. But a hand that doesn’t work is just going to get in your way. Doesn’t matter if it’s floppy or stiff. I think if we just set it, a couple weeks from now you’ll be so annoyed by it you’ll try to cut it off yourself. Might make it worse.”
    The boy shook his head violently.
    “Mr. Griswold is probably right,” Evola said. “Besides, maybe we could make you a replacement. We’ve done that before. Why, the young lady my friend here is courting? Her father’s got a whole fake leg made of metal. It is a thing of beauty, let me tell you.”
    The boy peeped out with one eye.
    “I bet Doc Sam would love to make a hand for you.” Probablynot, but maybe Dr. Chase could persuade him. I smiled at Dog. “C’mon. You’re a big guy. What’s it going to be?”
    It took him a few minutes, but in the end he nodded before burrowing his face into Laura’s shoulder. She shut her eyes and held him.
    To Evola, I whispered, “Do it fast.”
    He nodded and withdrew a circular saw from the cart, before removing his monocle and replacing it with a pair of goggles. Then, with all the speed of a highly skilled nurse delivering a shot to a child, he darted in, grabbed the boy’s useless hand, and flicked the saw on.
    The second the saw started whirring, Dog rebelled. He started thrashing against Laura, who gasped and struggled to hold him closer. He bit her in retaliation, swift, scared strikes born of blind panic, managing only to earn himself a couple of mouthfuls of what was essentially salad.
    Quickly, before he could do any real damage, I pulled Laura away and took him into my own arms. His silent fit continued, but I was stronger. I managed to get a grip on his forearm and hold it out, steadying it so Evola could get to work.
    As the saw dug into the boy’s flesh, I encouraged him. “Go ahead. Bite me. I know you’re scared, and that’s okay. But you can’t bite the living, so bite me.”
    He did. He didn’t get through my clothes, but every nip brought back memories of being cornered and bitten in the mines down south—of the day I died, and got up again, and kept walking. Normally these were not memories I liked to dwell on, but today they offered me a strange sort of comfort. A sense of grounding. A reminder of what I was.
    I needed to remember what I was. What I was capable of if I forgot.
    When it was done, Evola wrapped up the stump. The boyeventually calmed down. The procedure couldn’t have hurt him badly—we could feel many things, but not a lot of pain, thankfully. All the ways it changed our bodies for the worse, the Laz at least extended us that one kindness.
    Laura looked at me. “Thank you.”
    I released Dog and stepped back. “No problem.”
    “Let’s get some meds in him before he goes,” Evola said, going for his faithful syringes. “He doesn’t have a wrist valve, and I don’t want to bother with one before the hand situation is resolved, so it’s going to have to be through the neck.”
    “I have some.” Laura reached into her pocket and drew out a vial of some purplish stuff. “At least we won’t use up yours.”
    Evola took the vial from her and squinted at it, studying its contents, before popping the rubber cork off with his thumb. He touched a finger to the liquid, then to his tongue.
    “What are you doing ?” The sort of stuff that routinely went into all of us—preservatives, hydrating solutions, antibacterial fluid, the things Dr. Dearly had developed to keep us fresher, longer, as well as socially acceptable in terms of smell and texture—could not be good for living consumption.
    “It’s water, a little alcohol,” Evola declared, smacking his lips. “We’ve never used anything this

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