When the sound of his laughter drew closer and Walker had gone stock-still, it had been with the grim, self-defeating fatalism of a man who knew he stood no chance but could not stop himself. He’d propelled himself bodily at Snow’s chest, and Snow’s red right hand had snapped out hooklike, faster than Sarah could see; almost casually, in a parody of motion, Walker dropped to a heap, where he now lay motionless, unresponsive, barely breathing.

“Thought you were smart shooting me, didn’t you?” Snow asked Sarah now, stepping over Walker’s body, pointing to the clotted hole in his prison jumpsuit. “You should have held up your half of the deal.” Irrational events were occurring now, phenomena for which she had no words. Inside the semitransparent globe of Snow’s skull, under the stubble of his hair, something gelatinous shone and pulsed, more clearly this time, seeming to throb in time with his words. It made his voice sound different. “Not that it matters. I’m finished with this body.”

He brought out a fire ax that Sarah hadn’t seen until now, the one Calhoun had been holding before Snow had slammed him into the side of the tunnel. When she tried to move backward, all she felt were walls coming together to form a corner crowding against her back.

If Eli can run, if he can somehow get away—

“The boy,” Snow said, seeming to read her thoughts. “If he wants, he can watch me do my business with you.” He turned to Eli. “What do think, boy meat? Want a little reminder of what Mommy’s insides look like?”

Eli opened his mouth but no scream came—nothing came. He was an empty vessel, pushed far beyond his limits. His eyes were hollow cups in his skull.

“Hmm.” Snow smiled. “I think you’re going to enjoy this. Maybe not right away, but definitely—”

Something slammed into his head, flinging him sideways into the side of the tunnel. The ax left his hands, clattering to the floor. As he fell, Sarah found herself staring at the woman behind him holding a length of plastic pipe, hair hanging in her face.

“Jolie?”

Jolie looked at her. “This time go for his balls.”

She started to say more and Snow’s hand rammed up to seize her throat. Sarah saw Jolie’s eyes flash to hers, a split second of recognition arcing like some fugitive moment of telepathy between them, the last darting sparks of life looking for a place to land. It ended when Snow wrenched Jolie’s neck with a single twisting snap. With that snap, everything vital—color, beauty, adrenaline, life—dropped in a single lump from Jolie’s face. Snow opened his hand and her body fell to the floor.