Kimble Folk Bear

Kimble Folk BearKimble Flag SquareKimble Fishing by the SeaKimble Farm House on Hill
switched off the engine, got out of the car, and came face to face with Dunny Whistler.As pale as a sun-bleached skull, features drawn from his days in deathlike coma, Dunny stood in the rain yet remained untouched by it, drier than bone, than moon sand, than salt. “Don’t go in there.”Hazard startled and embarrassed himself by doing the in vertical rillets, vanishing in an instant, even more fluidly than he had slipped away into a mirror. The waterproof storm suit featured a foldaway hood, anatomically shaped knees, and more pockets than a kleptomaniac’s custom-tailored overcoat, all with zippers. Two layers of socks, black ski boots, and leather-and-nylon gloves—almost as flexible as surgical gloves but less likely to arouse suspicion—completed the ensemble.Pleased by his reflection in a full-length mirror, Corky went down [471] the next best thing to a feets-don’t-fail-me-now routine. He tried to back up but had nowhere to go because the car was immediately behind him, yet he couldn’t stop his shoes from slipping against the wet pavement, as his feet tried to propel him backward through the sedan.“If you die,” Dunny said, “I can’t bring you back. I’m not your guardian.”As solid as flesh one instant, liquid the next, Dunny collapsed without a splash into the puddle in which he stood, as though he had been an apparition formed of water, shimmering to the wet pavement