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A hole in the mortar, letting the air in. It sounded hollow in the tiny room. They were cold to the touch, as hard as stone could be. Life had enough scary things in it without having to make stuff up. Not the wind blowing some curtains in a run-down, hillbilly bed and breakfast. Guzman killed his first man during the saber duel that gave him his hideous scar. Guzman grew into a devoted aide whose natural skills for murder and mayhem proved to be a bonus. This woman officially was not on the ward. Inside was a male patient sitting by the window wearing a khaki U. The man looked up at her blankly.
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