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but not in a panic … not even close to being in a panic。 〃Don't you tell Jack to stop；〃 he said in a low voice。 〃Whatever you do； don't tell him that。 It's too late to stop。〃
At first； when Del began to scream； the witnesses didn't hear him。 The rain on the tin roof had swelled to a roar； and the thunder was damned near continuous。 But those of us on the platform heard him； all right … choked howls of pain from beneath the smoking mask； sounds an animal caught and mangled in a hay…baler might make。
The hum from the cap was ragged and wild now； broken by bursts of what sounded like radio static。 Delacroix began to slam back and forth in the chair like a kid doing a tantrum。 The platform shook； and he hit the leather restraining belt almost hard enough to pop it。 The current was also twisting him from side to side； and I heard the crunching snap as his right shoulder either broke or dislocated。 It went with a sound like someone hitting a wooden crate with a sledgehammer。 The crotch of his pants； no more than a blur because of the short pistoning strokes of his legs； darkened。 Then he began to squeal； horrible sounds； high…pitched and ratlike； that were audible even over the rushing downpour。
〃What the hell's happening to him？〃 someone cried。
〃Are those clamps going to hold？〃
〃Christ； the smell！ Phew！〃
Then； one of the two women： 〃Is this normal？〃
Delacroix snapped forward； dropped back； snapped forward； fell back。 Percy was stari
