Authors: Thomas Laird
Cutter
© Thomas Laird 2001
Thomas Laird has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in 2001 by Constable and Robinson Ltd.
This edition published in 2015 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
Table of Contents
Sh
e
run
s
lik
e
someon
e
wh
o
know
s
he
r
busines
s.
Th
e
ful
l
strid
e,
th
e
lon
g
leg
s
pumpin
g
fluidl
y.
Pumpin
g
righ
t
towar
d
m
e.
Sh
e
i
s
onl
y
a
bloc
k
awa
y.
She’l
l
b
e
righ
t
i
n
m
y
la
p
i
n
jus
t
second
s,
an
d
I’l
l
reac
h
ou
t
fro
m
behin
d
thi
s
convenien
t
thorn
y
el
m
an
d
I’l
l
hav
e
he
r
.
Wh
y
d
o
the
y
ru
n
a
t
dus
k?
Don’
t
the
y
hav
e
an
y
fea
r
abou
t
tha
t
rus
h
o
f
darknes
s
tha
t
come
s
o
n
s
o
quickl
y
a
t
thi
s
hou
r
a
t
thi
s
tim
e
o
f
yea
r?
I
t
i
s
mi
d-
fal
l.
Th
e
da
y
die
s
i
n
a
hurr
y
a
t
aroun
d
4.
3
0
p.m
.
Tw
o
hundre
d
mor
e
fee
t
an
d
sh
e
i
s
o
n
to
p
o
f
m
e.I
reac
h
int
o
m
y
gy
m
ba
g
an
d
I
remov
e
th
e
bottl
e.I
hurriedl
y
po
p
th
e
to
p
an
d
pou
r
th
e
ethe
r
ont
o
th
e
wa
d
o
f
balle
d-
u
p
T-
shir
t.
Th
e
odo
r
rise
s
s
o
rapidl
y
tha
t
I’
m
almos
t
wooz
y,
bu
t
I
cor
k
th
e
bottl
e
an
d
I
hol
d
th
e
saturate
d
pa
d
downwin
d
fro
m
mysel
f
.
Fift
y
mor
e
fee
t
an
d
she’l
l
b
e
her
e
.
Th
e
blad
e
i
s
i
n
m
y
righ
t
han
d.
I’v
e
take
n
i
t
fro
m
m
y
leathe
r
jacket’
s
pocke
t.
N
o
scen
t
emanate
s
fro
m
tha
t
finel
y
hone
d
stee
l
.
I
can’
t
tel
l
th
e
colo
r
o
f
he
r
runnin
g
short
s
no
r
ca
n
I
discer
n
th
e
hu
e
o
f
th
e
jacke
t
sh
e
wear
s.
I
t
i
s
alread
y
to
o
di
m.
Th
e
san
d
an
d
th
e
wate
r
ar
e
behin
d
he
r
no
w
an
d
th
e
beac
h
ha
s
bee
n
deserte
d
fo
r
th
e
bette
r
par
t
o
f
a
mont
h.
I
t
i
s
lat
e
Octobe
r,
th
e
middl
e
o
f
thi
s
preparator
y
mont
h
o
f
th
e
yea
r.
Fal
l
i
s
lik
e
th
e
flutterin
g
insid
e
a
cardiac’
s
ches
t.
The
y
sa
y
tha
t
readines
s
i
s
al
l.
Bu
t
I
can’
t
remembe
r
wher
e
I
rea
d
i
t
.
Sh
e
i
s
fiftee
n
fee
t
awa
y
a
s
I
ris
e
fro
m
m
y
crouc
h.
I
n
thre
e
stride
s
I
appea
r
befor
e
he
r
i
n
th
e
middl
e
o
f
he
r
runnin
g
lan
e.
Th
e
youn
g
woma
n
canno
t
sto
p
i
n
tim
e
t
o
avoi
d
m
e.I
lurc
h
a
t
he
r
an
d
I
clam
p
th
e
soake
d
slee
p-
lade
n
clot
h
ove
r
he
r
suddenl
y
ova
l-
shape
d
lip
s
.
M
y
runne
r
doesn’
t
eve
n
hav
e
tim
e
t
o
screa
m
.
