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

Ernie raised his shotgun and fired again. Beside Milly, Noel slotted fresh cartridges into the pump-action. There was blood on his face. She thought of the wounds the creatures’ claws had inflicted on Madeleine Lowe, and the unstoppable, slow-killing infection that had followed. “Jones?” she said. “That thing, when it had you, did it –?”

Not Jones, Lord. Not Jones on top of everything else, after last night when she’d thought she’d lost him –

“No.” He dabbed the cut on his forehead. “Something they threw, love. Just a graze. I’m fine.” He looked down at his torn, punctured jacket. “Think so, anyway.”

The dark teemed with deadly white as Noel investigated the rips to ensure no blood had been drawn. The ones closest to the last fire crouched with their weight braced now on their hind legs; in their forelimbs they cradled chunks of masonry and steel.

Surrounded like this, there’d be no chance. The fire would be battered out within seconds, and anyone left alive would be flayed and torn apart by the monsters. Nowhere left to go. Nothing left to do. Milly tried to remember the words of a single prayer, and couldn’t. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

“All clear,” Noel said. “Not that it matters now.”

He put the shotgun to his shoulder. Laura and Ernie moved to other points of the final circle, guns aimed outward, and Milly waited for the axe to fall.

64.

64.

The cavern floor was dust and gravel of pulverised bone; with partial skeletons protruding in places from the mass. With the propane tank’s weight on her back seemingly growing heavier with every step, Ellie’s boots sank shin-deep into the dust, slowing her progress to a maddening trudging crawl.

At least the dust muffled their footsteps, although with the clamour of the pipes and drums – growing ever louder – Ellie doubted they’d have been audible if they’d been clomping across bare stone in hobnailed boots. In any case, the Priests and Dancers were deep in their reverie, entranced in the final steps of their ritual.

They were about fifteen yards from the altar when the piping faded; Ellie froze, holding out a hand to halt Charlotte too. But the drummers continued drumming, the Dancers to dance.

One Piper turned to face the fire, then bent forward. Its face descended, seemingly towards Ellie’s, with only the veil of silver flame between them. The mask was now so close she could see the crude stitching that held its segments together. It wasn’t wood: on closer inspection it resembled perished leather, or dried meat. Skin, of course: a mask of skin. At least there was only pallid white flesh behind the eyeholes: the thing couldn’t see her. She held her breath, in case it heard her exhale.