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		<title>In the Deathroom (37)</title>
		<description>Heinz stared at Fletcher. His eyes were blue and red-rimmed, swimming with tears. He didn’t believe Fletcher, of course, what Fletcher was saying made no sense, but Heinz very clearly wanted to believe it anyway, because, sense or nonsense, Fletcher was holding out the possibility of life. He just needed ...</description>
		<link>http://oblivionplayers.net/?p=2357</link>
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		<title>In the Deathroom (36)</title>
		<description>“No!” Heinz cried in a weepy voice. He shook his head and water flew off his face. His face was still going through its contortions: cramp and release, cramp and release. There was a green bubble of snot at the entrance to one of his nostrils; it expanded and contracted ...</description>
		<link>http://oblivionplayers.net/?p=2355</link>
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		<title>In the Deathroom (35)</title>
		<description>Fletcher picked up the stylus and held it out to Heinz. Heinz made a wet sound, shook his head, and took another step backward. His face would lift and pull together in a kind of grief-struck sneer, then loosen again. His forehead was wet with sweat, his cheeks with tears. ...</description>
		<link>http://oblivionplayers.net/?p=2353</link>
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		<title>In the Deathroom (34)</title>
		<description>Fletcher turned around and began walking toward Heinz with Ramón’s gun held out. As he walked he realized that his right shoe was gone. He looked at Ramón, who was still lying facedown in a spreading pool of blood. Ramón still had hold of Fletcher’s loafer. He was like a ...</description>
		<link>http://oblivionplayers.net/?p=2351</link>
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		<title>In the Deathroom (33)</title>
		<description>“Listen to me,” Fletcher said. “Are you listening?” What she was undoubtedly listening for were the sounds of approaching rescue. In your dreams, Fletcher thought.

“The weatherman there said that El Cóndor uses cocaine, that he’s a Communist butt-boy, a whore for United Fruit, who knows what else. Maybe he’s some ...</description>
		<link>http://oblivionplayers.net/?p=2349</link>
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		<title>In the Deathroom (32)</title>
		<description>The woman saw the news of her death in his eyes and began to talk faster, pressing her butt and back and palms harder and harder against the metal door as she talked. It was as if she believed she couldsomehow melt herself through the door and come out whole ...</description>
		<link>http://oblivionplayers.net/?p=2346</link>
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		<title>In the Deathroom (31)</title>
		<description>“Hey,” Fletcher said. He felt like an ordinary guy who goes to his Thursday-night bowling league and rolls a 300 game. “Hey, you bitch, look at me.”

She turned and put her palms flat against the door, as if she were holding it up. There was still a little nailhead of ...</description>
		<link>http://oblivionplayers.net/?p=2344</link>
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		<title>In the Deathroom (30)</title>
		<description>Fletcher shot him twice, once in the chest and once in the face. The face-shot tore off most of Ramón’s nose and right cheek, but the big man in the brown uniform came on just the same, roaring, the ciga-rette still dangling from his eye, his big sausage fingers, a ...</description>
		<link>http://oblivionplayers.net/?p=2342</link>
			</item>
	<item>
		<title>In the Deathroom (29)</title>
		<description>Fletcher turned. Escobar was there, already around the end of the long table, coming for him with his fat hands out. Escobar no longer looked like a fellow who sometimes did the TV weather and talked about high bressure.

“Get that Yankee son of a bitch!” the woman spat. Fletcher kicked ...</description>
		<link>http://oblivionplayers.net/?p=2340</link>
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		<title>In the Deathroom (28)</title>
		<description>Ramón shrieked and jerked backward. His right hand rose toward his face, where the still-burning cigarette hung askew in the socketof his eye, but his left hand remained on Fletcher’s shoulder. It was now tightened down to a clamp, and when he stepped back, Ramón pulled Fletcher’s chair over. Fletcher ...</description>
		<link>http://oblivionplayers.net/?p=2338</link>
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