Surrounded by the Amis teens he'd met a week ago, he laughed inwardly at their grunts and groans when axes split heads like melons — Hollywood probably used canteloupe and honeydew — but Roc had seen blood as thick as Log Cabin syrup, smelled death where the rotting odors forcecd him to
smoke a
cigar to counter its effect, and
tasted the coppery tang of fear.