'"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 cart 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.'
