Francesca S. - , reviewed on 6/19/2006 + 134 more book reviews

"There's a food stand over there," I said, pointing. A Horror in a purple apron leaned against a small cart.

We hurried over to it. A sign on top of the care read: FINGERS
"Great! You got chicken fingers?" Luke asked the Horror.
She shook her head. "No. Just fingers."

I lowered my eyes to the cart. Steam rose up. I saw a pile of fingers toasting inside. Human fingers.

"They're pretty good with ketchup," the Horror rasped.

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