You’re a piss-poor liar, John. Sebastian, too, seemed to be immune, even though cats, dogs, and beasts of the suffered just as the humans did: blackening and dying, their eyes rolling, their bodies covered with bald buboes. “Really? Like 37 who?” “Corinne Carver, for one. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright.
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