Demon's Door by Graham Masterton Page A

Russian dressing and coleslaw, on grilled rye bread, finishing up with a sour cream, raisin and nut rugelach.
    Although Leon would have broken the first commandment to end up on Death Row, Jim was interested to see that he was still going to make sure that his last meal was completely kosher. He might be sarcastic and defiant in class, but Jim guessed that he was very respectful to his family at home, and at the synagogue. That gave Jim a good handle on how to deal with him when he was being obnoxious. Ask him how his parents would feel if they knew that he was behaving like such a schmendrick . Ask him what his rabbi would say.
    To Jim’s surprise, Grant wanted ‘Lobster ravilolli followed by roce chicken with black figgs and sore toe potatoes.’ In spite of the creative mis-spellings, Jim was impressed. Grant clearly saw himself as more than just a highly successful football player. He saw himself as a highly successful and wealthy football player, who would be able to live a sophisticated life of luxury. His menu suggested that he had been reading celebrity magazines like OK! although Jim doubted if he would ever admit it. The only nagging uncertainty that he would ever play at the thirty-million-dollar-a-year level was revealed in his choice of dessert, a Twinkie. But Jim realized that there was a whole lot more to Grant than he liked to show anybody – a yearning for glamour, as well as sporting glory. A feminine side. He was the kind of guy who could knock you flat with one punch but still used moisturizer.
    Then there was Kim’s menu: bindaddeok , mi yeok guk , dak gal bi and in jeol mi . Jim wouldn’t have been able to understand it at all unless Kim had translated it, but now he knew that it was very uncomplicated: only beef and chicken and vegetables and rice. But that was like Kim himself: although he liked to appear mysterious, he was using enigmatic words to hide a very simple secret.
    Simple, but not necessarily benign. Jim had encountered enough demons to know that whatever they gave you, they always wanted something in return, and that what they wanted in return was usually more than you were able to pay. If Kim was capable of bringing a crushed animal back to life – or he knew somebody or something that could – he had to have a motive for being here at West Grove that went far beyond remedial English.
    Elvira had been waving her arm for nearly half a minute to attract his attention. ‘Sir? Michael McClure says here, “Men feed mustangs to dogs, and whales to cats.” What does he mean by that?’
    Jim said, ‘So far as I can make out, he’s pointing out that we nourish our domesticated pets with the flesh of wild animals. He wants us to think about the rights and the wrongs of it. Most of us humans eat animals, too – some of them tame, like cows, some of them wild, like deer. Is it morally right for us to do that?’
    â€˜I think it’s morally wrong for us to eat anything that can’t put up any kind of a fight,’ said T.D. ‘You know, like carrots. Or baked beans.’
    â€˜Carrots and baked beans don’t have emotions,’ Janice Sticky protested.
    â€˜Yeah, but Big Macs don’t have emotions, neither. Did you ever see a Big Mac cry?’
    â€˜Just get on and finish the text,’ Jim put in. ‘We can talk about vegetarianism later.’
    All the same, the next Death Row menu he picked up had only one word written on it, and that word was ‘Lettis.’
    The name on the top of the paper was Patsy-Jean Waller. Jim looked up at her. She was sitting in the front row, at the opposite end from Kim Dong Wook. All the euphemisms in the dictionary couldn’t have disguised the fact that she was obese, well over two hundred and twenty pounds, with curly brown hair scraped back with a yellow plastic Alice band, and eyes that were little more than slits. She was wearing a loose brown smock to cover her