“Twenty-four.”
“Twenty-four, Cameron. Did you eventually get tenure, Doc?”
I nodded.
“How old were you when you got tenure?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Hear that, Cameron? Tenure at thirty-two, which is just around your age, isn’t that something.Dr.Delaware earns tenure and you can’t even—”
Flick’s body shot upward. His shackled hand yanked him down on his right side and he ended up standing in a lopsided, crab-like position.
“Smart is as smart does, Cam. You’re here because you’re stupid.”
“Session over! Overoveroveroverover!”
The door opened. Slowly. Deputy Coolidge peeked in, then stood back for a second as Flick continued to pound and shriek.
“Everything okay?” he asked Milo.
“Someone’s having a rough morning.”
“Looks like it. Okay, you shut up or I’ll call the medics and they’ll inject something in you.”
Cameron Flick shouted, “Sess—” then stopped himself and stared at each of us in turn.
“You fixin’ to behave yourself?” said Coolidge. “The least bit of trouble and it’s Thorazine or whatever.”
Flick said nothing.
Coolidge said, “I need a response.”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“I’m fine.”
“Better be,” said Coolidge. To us: “Have a good one, Loo. You, too, Doc.”
Milo said, “You as well, Twan.”
“ ’Bout as good as it can be taking care of idiots.”
Cameron Flick shuddered.
Coolidge said, “Don’t start or you will get injected.”
Flick’s face seemed to melt.
As we left, he said, “Don’t think it’s over.” But in a new, pitiful voice.
—
Outside the jail, Milo said, “What do you think he meant by that?”
“Empty threat,” I said. “He’s pretty much torn down.”
