BooksBarbecue
Back The Hollows
Chapters (77)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Dedication
  5. PART I
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. PART II
  15. 9.
  16. 10.
  17. 11.
  18. 12.
  19. 13.
  20. 14.
  21. 15.
  22. 16.
  23. 17.
  24. 18.
  25. 19.
  26. 20.
  27. 21.
  28. 22.
  29. 23.
  30. 24.
  31. 25.
  32. 26.
  33. 27.
  34. 28.
  35. 29.
  36. 30.
  37. 31.
  38. 32.
  39. 33.
  40. 34.
  41. 35.
  42. 36.
  43. PART III
  44. 37.
  45. 38.
  46. 39.
  47. 40.
  48. 41.
  49. 42.
  50. 43.
  51. 44.
  52. 45.
  53. 46.
  54. 47.
  55. 48.
  56. 49.
  57. 50.
  58. 51.
  59. 52.
  60. 53.
  61. 54.
  62. 55.
  63. 56.
  64. 57.
  65. 58.
  66. 59.
  67. 60.
  68. 61.
  69. 62.
  70. 63.
  71. 64.
  72. 65.
  73. PART IV
  74. 66.
  75. 67.
  76. 68.
  77. Acknowledgements

Ellie swung the flare from door to window, then thrust it at the thin white fingers squirming between two boards. The joke might be on them if they did bring the shed down; if the kerosene can split and the fuel ignited, the bastards would get a hell of a surprise.

Still won’t do you any good, though.

The shed lurched on its base; the walls tilted. Closing in, falling flat. Ellie couldn’t hold back a cry, and that seemed to be the signal for the things to rush the shed. They rammed into the side of it and the whole structure tipped sideways. Wood splintered, the far wall toppled towards her and the roof fell in; Ellie tried to stay upright, but her balance went and as the shed collapsed she fell. And the things piled onto the wreckage to claim her.

35.

35.

Their weight was on her; it lessened for an instant, then a second impact smashed into Ellie through the splintered boards, driving breath from her lungs. The bastards were jumping up and down on her.

The flare. Where was the flare? All she could see was darkness. Her right fist was empty. The flare was either extinguished or hidden under debris; it certainly wasn’t doing anything to deter the creatures now. Ellie clawed at the ground; the weight crashed down on her again but no long hands clutched her. Of course the creatures weren’t attempting to pull aside the wreckage: why risk being exposed to the light if the flare was still lit? To them it was like killing a venomous spider: they wanted her dead but didn’t want to touch her. Instead they’d stamp her out.

The weight crashed down on Ellie again: her upper torso this time instead of her lower body. They were working their way up; the next one would land directly on her head. Ellie kicked and thrashed and struggled, grabbing any solid object she could find – a spanner, a hammer, a splintered board – and throwing them aside. Even if she couldn’t find the flare, even if she only fought her way into the open to be pulled apart, better that than being stomped to death.

Dimly she heard shouting: the others, up on the roof. Did they realise they were next, that the creatures would be pelting them with missiles once Ellie was dead? Or perhaps the things had already begun; it wouldn’t take many of them to finish her now.

But the final skull-crushing blow didn’t fall, and then the weight came off her. Ellie kicked and struggled, shoving aside pieces of tar-papered roof and squirming out from under the boards.

“Get back!” someone shouted.