В Thicker Than Water, каждое ново открывается шрамом более глубокой связи между людьми. Главные герои — это два близнеца, чья жизнь разбита одной коварной встречей. Начинается с простых моментов и остается неизменным мрачно-сюрреалистическим тоном, привлекающим внимание и заставляющим ждать следующего шага....
‘Stuffed turkey never flew.’
So fuck this zoo.
Which if you take the initial letters of each word translates into 1563, 7294 and 6530 (the z standing for zero).
Digital locks are called yes-or-nos because unless you’re big on logic gates and home electronics, whether or not you can pick them comes down to a single question: did whoever put the lock in bother to change the factory default setting?
Trusting to the morally deficient saint or angel who watches over the affairs of exorcists and career criminals, I keyed in the first combination.
inc=""1em"" width=""1em"" align=""justify"">7294 did the trick. The door came free with a metallic quack. Giving the constable an amiable nod, I walked on in. He shot me a look, as though he was only an inch or two away from asking me who the fuck I was, but common sense dictated that if I had the combo I was someone who had a right to be there.
A quick glance around me showed an empty nurses’ station in a short well-lit hall with four doors leading off. The only room I could see into from where I was standing was definitely a ward, with at least one occupied bed. The incumbent was invisible except for a bony outcrop of shoulder sheathed in drab beige NHS pyjamas. The same kind, probably, that your grandad and mine wore in their dying hours.
There was a sink just beside the door, underneath a poster exhorting anyone who came in to wash their hands thoroughly with the disinfectant soap provided. I took the opportunity to have a good scrub-up, partly because it would look right if the cop was watching me through the reinforced glass but mainly because - like a surgeon - what I was hoping to do here did involve some physical contact. Kenny might have been a legendary shit when we were kids, but I didn’t want to polish him off with staphylococcus aureus after he’d survived having his throat cut.
Then I walked to the nearest door and peered inside. There were four beds, one of which had screens around it. From behind the screens a female voice, deep and vibrant, was conducting one half of a cheerful conversation: the other half consisted of silences of varying length."
"‘That’s right, Malcolm. Hold your bum up off the covers, just for a second. Easy. Easy.
