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Back Rovers Save as PDF
Chapters (42)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. Acknowledgments
  40. Discover More
  41. About the Author
  42. Also by Richard Lange

The bossman looked at me looked at Daddy and looked at me again. He had a map of the mine in front of him. Number 8 Left Heading, he said tracing it with a finger. That section’s been closed for a year. Still he sent a crew to check. They found the door to the tunnel ajar and the wop pinned by a fallen timber where he snuck in to take a nap.

I saved him but I couldn’t save Daddy. A year later the mine exploded when he was down there with three hundred others. They went looking for survivors and Mama begged me to try again to see into the darkness. Nothing came to me hard as I thought. They brought Daddy’s body up four days later. What was left of it. Barely enough to bury, Mama said.

I know proper is a coffin. I know proper is a stone and flowers. The folks we kill don’t get none of that ’cept for sometimes a prayer. I know one or two good ones.

11

11

June 27, 1976, 3 p.m.

A​FTER A FEW HOURS’ REST I FEEL STRONG ENOUGH TO FINISH setting down the events of the past day. It’s more important than ever there’s some kind of record now that things have turned strange.

After Czarnecki showed me the boy chained in the shed, we returned to the cabin. The old man poured himself a tumbler of bourbon, and we sat at the little table.

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked.

“They call themselves rovers,” he said. “I think they’re some kind of vampires.”

“Come on,” I said.

“It’s not what you’re picturing, all that pointy teeth and turning into a bat Dracula bullshit. They’re predators, pure and simple. They stalk humans, cut their throats, and drink their blood. One of them killed my wife, and one killed your son.”

I’d have thought the old man was insane if not for what I’d just witnessed: Sunlight opened wounds on the kid’s flesh, and those wounds healed instantly in the dark. In any other context, you’d call that a miracle.

“I use the kid as a pointer,” Czarnecki said.

“A what?” I said.

“These things look like just another person to you or me, but they recognize each other—give off some kind of glow only they can see—so I use the kid to sniff them out. It’s something Mr. Otto taught me. The kid finds rovers, and I kill them.”

Mr. Otto again. I asked who he was.