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“What the hell?”
Daryl swerved to avoid running over something on the road, then stopped.
“No way. There’s no way.”
He got out of the car to take a look. He stood over it for several minutes, trying to allow the image to register.
“Good fuckin’ lord.”
It was a hand. A person’s hand. Not a plastic Halloween costume hand or a prosthetic hand. It was a human hand. He thought for a moment it was a glove, the way it lay with the fingers stiff, pointed upward and curled in. A Ski-Doo glove. But the fingers were too small and each of them was twisted in a certain way, with individual knuckles and such. The colour of the hand was like Fruit Bottom Yogurt â�� wild berry or mixed berry. The hand itself was not scarred or cut. The fingernails were clean and well manicured, short and wide. It was a man’s hand.
He decided he'd better pick it up and take it with him.