And if it did, what then? What would it change? Would it make him feel less alone, knowing that he was part of some larger, shared catastrophe? Or would it build another layer of impotent sadness and grief atop what he already felt? Which was better? Which hell burned less intensely?
There was another moan. More truly a moan than the sound Dana had made. Hartnup’s body turned and he cursed God as it did so, because he knew what horrors lay behind him.
No. Not lay. Stood.
April.
Somehow her face was untouched, though every other part of her was crumpled and torn and slashed by teeth and nails.
April. With her dead eyes. Holding small, squirming, hissing, moaning things in each arm.
The Hollow Man turned away and shambled toward the door, moving away from this place because there was nothing left here to hunt. The ache, the deep hunger, was waking once more in his stolen body. Within shuffling steps, he followed his sister and the police officers out into the howling wind.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
INTERSECTION OF DOLL
FACTORY ROAD AND MASON STREET
STEBBINS COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA
When Dez and JT got to the gas station it was deserted, the doors locked and the staff gone.
“Turk’s gone,” JT said as he peered in through the grimy office window.
Dez rubbed a clean spot on the window of the roll-down garage door. “Yeah, both of his wreckers are gone. Must be out cruising the roads between the schools. ”
Turk and his son made money every time there was a heavy rain, pulling cars out of the mud. Dez slammed her fist on the door and turned back to their car. It was a smoking wreck and getting to the gas station took all that it had left.
JT ran over and crouched behind a corner mailbox, squinting through the gloom up Doll Factory Road. Dez opened the cruiser door and grabbed the mike, but all she got was static. Her cell phone was lost and she had no idea where. Maybe at Hartnup’s, maybe at the hospital.
“Talk to me, Hoss,” she called over her shoulder. “Are they coming?”
JT reloaded his shotgun and shoved the remaining shells into his pants pocket. “I can’t see them,” he called in a loud whisper. “They must be over the rise. Did you get Flower on the line?”
“Trying…”
Dez tried again, but there was only white noise. She threw down the mike and hurried over to kneel down next to JT.
“What are we into here?” she asked. “I mean … Jesus, JT, this thing is spreading out of control. ”
He licked his lips. “Those people … they’re dead?”
It was maybe the tenth time he’d said it since they got out of the car.
“Yes, they’re fucking dead,” she said through gritted teeth.
He glanced at her. “No … no … I mean…” He shook his head, tried again. “We shot the shit out of them, Dez, and they kept coming. ”
“Except some of them,” she corrected.
“Right, that’s my point. Some of them went down. Some of them are dead dead, you know? Not running around dead. God—could this make l
ess frigging sense?”
Dez touched his shoulder. “I know, Hoss … I know. The chief … a few of the others. I shot them and they didn’t go down, and then I shot them and they did. It doesn’t make any sense. ”
“When you … killed the chief,” he asked slowly, “where’d you hit him?”