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

Which was all dead grand and heroic, but Milly wasn’t the heroic sort. Given the choice, she’d sooner keep her head down and muddle through life’s tangles and complexities as best she could, her faith the dim torch that lit her way. But life didn’t offer such choices. The first Christians, in Rome – their choice, too, had been black and white. Bow down and lose their souls, or keep their faith even if it meant their lives.

They were all fucked anyway, unless Ellie pulled off a miracle. Milly wasn’t even sure if she should hope or pray she did – if this was Judgement Day, surely that was God’s will and to suggest a man or woman could stop it was blasphemy.

But, again, this resembled nothing she’d read of in Revelations. And the Bible wasn’t always to be taken literally. Well, then. Whomever is righteous, let him be righteous still; whomever is wicked, let him be wicked still. She was who she was, and who she’d carry on being: Millicent Abigail Emmanuel, doctor, healer, Christian. Her whole life, everything she stood for, was about loving kindness to others. Didn’t matter whether God rewarded her for it, or even saw her right now. She was who she was, and she’d continue to be.

61.

61.

Jess’s ragged, painful breathing faded as Ellie carried her along the tunnel; finally it stopped, and the small shape lay still and quiet in her arms. She made no move to put the girl down; apart from anything else, there was no space to do so. The narrow tunnel didn’t branch or bend. Besides, Ellie wouldn’t lay Jess down in a place like this, under the monsters’ eyeless gaze.

She didn’t want to lay Jess down at all; didn’t want to admit what the absence of breath now told her. She didn’t know why this one death should seem so wrong, so unjust, but it did. Whenever she closed her eyes, she saw that small figure, tiny but somehow indomitable, striding determinedly on through the snow. Jesus, she was blubbering, skriking away like a little kid, now, as she walked.

And she couldn’t do that. Mustn’t. Out of everyone here, she had to keep it together. But it was so fucking unfair. Shot by that bitch of a mother she’d fought so hard to escape. The casual, absurd cruelty of it, like a final spit in the face.