Markel jabbed him again with the M-1. Rocky said, "Okay, okay. When I fell over the cliff I landed in a bunch of trees and they broke my fall. Back in the city you put a bullet in a pitcher of my mother what I always carry in my chest pocket. Didn't kill me at all."
"Oh, Gad!" said Markel. Like a plumb-bob Rocky had turned slowly on the rope until his back was to them. Placing the M-1 on the ground, Markel reached up and, with some difficulty, pulled Rocky's leather jacket down so that it bunched around his shoulders. Ignoring Rocky's complaints, he ripped Rocky's shirt open. Rocky's skin was unmarked by bullet scars or broken bones. Markel squeezed Rocky's left arm that had been broken, and stepped back, his face pale. Theory was one thing, confirmation of it something different. Markel said, "He's as whole as you or I. Rocky, how long have you known you're superhuman?"
Coughing, Rocky said, "You're talking like a bughead, man."
"He looks horrible. Why don't you cut him down?" said the Earth Mother.
Again Rocky coughed. "Square man, cut me down, will you? Look, all I wanted from you was somebody to talk to. I was only bluffing about chopping you up. I can't take having nobody to talk to, you dig that, can't you? Let me go with you; let's make a deal."
The Earth Mother said, "Yeah, why don't you let him come along?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Besides, I can't stand vampires," Markel said, picking up the M-1. "Your last chance, Rocky."
Flailing the air, Rocky said, "You're bugging me, man. To hell with you." Then his arms hung limp and his eyes closed.
Cutting Rocky down from the rope, Markel carried him to the camp, where he sat him against a tree, tying his hands behind it. "Go make some coffee. This may take a long time," Markel said.
"What are you going to do?" said the Earth Mother.