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

And that was how it began. Liz had wanted to believe she’d remembered Nan’s lessons wrong, that there was something else she’d missed, but she’d checked the Bible and it was right. The first one died without a wound: They let the winter do the killing. A test, like a soothsayer reading chicken guts.

And afterward, They left Their mark. Their sign of jubilation, because it was Their time.

Knowing the story was one thing, but it didn’t prepare you to see it coming true, least of all with your own child.

Liz stopped and leant on the stick. The weight of all the grief and fear made her buckle at the knees, ready to fall down and give up. But she couldn’t, any more than she could let herself believe she was just being an old fool. Not yet. No-one in Barsall knew about the mark. No one outside Barrowman Farm. If she was wrong, well and good; her only worry’d be making sure no-one in the family thought she was losing her grip and tried to push her aside. But if she wasn’t wrong or mad, she had to be ready to get her children through this. They’d look to her.

Liz trudged on.

The piglet kicked and wriggled. Liz squeezed hard to quell it; it kicked harder, squealing, then gave up. Liz peered down to check it was still breathing. If she’d killed it she’d have to go back for another: the Bible said it had to be live. They’d penned the sheep and pigs up last night, the lights on full around the pens, wire mesh around the bulbs to protect them. That’d kept the animals all safe, but They’d be hungry – always were, so the Bible said – which made the offering all the more important.

The piglet blinked at her and grunted. Liz nodded to herself and stamped on through the snow.

Long night last night. Least Frank and Dom did as they were told. Jess didn’t count – too scared to do a thing but go along with the rest and keep out of the way. Paul she’d have to watch – him most of all of them. She’d seen him smirking, when he’d thought she couldn’t see. Old bat’s finally going doolally. Danger there in more ways than one: if he didn’t challenge her outright, he might not bother following the precautions that would keep them safe.

Keira wasn’t blood, more was the pity. She had teeth, that girl, a fucking spine, and enough respect to trust Liz’s word, for now at least. She didn’t believe, but then none of them did: why should they, when even Liz wasn’t sure?

Yet.