Okay, I have now reached the portion of this novel where Mike Yates is sort of dead and sort of a zombie and sort of made of clay and sort of brainwashed and nothing makes sense?  IF I JUST READ IT CLOSELY ENOUGH maybe I’ll get it this time.

But in the meantime I had to share this gem:

Mike’s head was still above the level of the field, and he kept his eyes open, turning his head in a regular 360-degree motion to make sure he didn’t miss anything.