Holy shit, Marcus thought, that man's dead.

The woman looked… strange. Wet with pepper spray, her face was twisted into a mask of black rage-or was it pleasure-her mouth a gaping pit and eyes almost popping out of her head. She was wearing a sexy cowgirl outfit with buckskin fringes, all torn and disheveled now. They were all like that, all fighting like wildcats to get at the men; Marcus could see the tendons standing out in their necks. Their blue necks, he noted. All the women seemed to have blue skin.

Suddenly, the dead man burst to life, leaping up and seizing another man who had been checking his pulse. The attacker's face was puffy and purple from strangulation, his tongue black, but his near-death experience didn't slow him down any. Onlookers shouted in surprise, scrambling backward as the two men thrashed between the benches, then tumbled out of sight below the bleachers.

Marcus wasn't sure whether to laugh or scream-this was the damnedest thing he'd ever seen. It had to be some kind of stunt-had to be.

A shotgun was fired into the air, and an officer yelled, "Everyone stay seated! That's an order!"

The announcer came on again:

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE ASK YOU TO PLEASE REMAIN IN YOUR SEATS AND COOPERATE WITH THE AUTHORITIES. DO NOT LET YOURSELVES GET DRAWN INTO THIS BRAWL. THE FOLKS RESPONSIBLE WILL BE DEALT WITH SHORTLY IF YOU'LL ALL JUST REMAIN IN YOUR SEATS AND REFRAIN FROM ADDING TO THE CONFUSION. ALL RODEO PERSONNEL AND TRUSTIES ARE INSTRUCTED TO RETURN AT ONCE TO THE STAGING AREA. EVERYONE REMAIN CALM-THE SITUATION IS UNDER CONTROL. WE APOLOGIZE FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE."

The rodeo performers and trusties weren't listening. They had all stopped what they were doing and were calling to their wives and sweethearts in the stands, or just watching dumbfounded as chaos broke out above them. The animals were getting jumpy from the noise.