“I'll call if I break a leg or get eaten by a bear.""Play like a rock.""Now?""No, if a bear starts eating you."I thought for a moment before replying. "Do they have screaming, sobbing rocks, 'cause that's probably what I'll be doing if a bear is gnawing my arm off.""It would be difficult to just lay there and be eaten alive, huh?""Ya think?”

“Sorry. i just can't seem to help myself. My brain is freaking out. Two predawn mornings in a row. It doesn't know what to think, how to act. I'll have a talk with it later. Perhaps get it some counseling.”

“I had yet to be a mother, but I would have thought it difficult to forget something it took thirty-seven hours of excruciating pain to push out from between my legs ~Charley Davidson”

“I know what kind of man it takes to get involved with something as barbarous as human trafficking.”“I get it, Swopes. He’s not the kind of man you take home to meet yourstepmom.” I rethought that. “Wait a minute. Maybe my stepmom would like to meet him. Do you think he ships to Istanbul?”

“Since I didn't have a candy wrapper to help me with the bad connection I was about to have, I resorted to using vocal sound effects. When Agent Carson picked up, I started my performance. "Agent... Agent Carson," I said, panting into the phone."Yes, Charley." She seemed unimpressed, but I wasn't about to stop now."I--I know who the kshshshshshsh are.""I'm a little busy right now, Davidson. What is a Ksh, and why do I care?""I'm sorry. My kshshsh... is kshshsh... ing."I repeat. What is a Ksh? And why do I care if it is ksh-ing?"She was a tough one. I knew I should have waited and bought a Butterfinger at the Jug-N-Chug. Those wrappers crakled like Rice Krispies on a Saturday morning. "You aren't listeni--kshshsh.""You're really bad at this.""Bank ro-ksh-ers. I know who they kshshsh.""Charley, if you don't cut this crap out."I hung up and turned off my phone before she could figure out what I was trying not to tell her and call back.”

“You hit me again," I said, growing oddly annoyed."Ya think?" Evil Riggs said. Smart-ass."Part of my brain hurts. I demand to know what that part of my brain is called and what its job is.”

“Hypothermia. That’s what they called it. I called it being freaking alive, and I couldn’t have been more grateful.”