'Shut up!' Gardener said, and Casey recoiled as if slapped, eyes wide and hurt, considerable jowls trembling. Gardener brushed past him and went to the safe. From it he took an outsized pistol which he stuck in his belt. For the first time, the Reverend Sunlight Gardener looked scared and baffled.
Upstairs, there was a dim shattering sound, followed by a screech. The eyes of Singer, Warwick, and Casey all turned nervously upward - they looked like nervous bomb-shelter occupants listening to a growing whistle above them.
Gardener looked at Jack. A grin surfaced on his face, the corners of his mouth twitching irregularly, as if strings were attached to them, strings that were being pulled by a puppeteer who wasn't particularly good at his job.
'He'll come here, won't he?' Sunlight Gardener said. He nodded as if Jack had answered. 'He'll come . . . but I don't think he'll leave.'
13
Wolf leaped. Heck Bast was able to get his right hand in its plaster cast up in front of his throat. There was a hot flash of pain, a brittle crunch, and a puff of plaster-dust as Wolf bit the cast - and what was left of the hand inside it - off. Heck looked stupidly down at where it had been. Blood jetted from his wrist. It soaked his white turtleneck with bright, hot warmth.
'Please,' Heck whined. 'Please, please, don't - '
Wolf spat out the hand. His head moved forward with the speed of a striking snake. Heck felt a dim pulling sensation as Wolf tore his throat open, and then he knew no more.
14
As he bolted out of the common room, Peabody skidded in Pedersen's blood, went down to one knee, got up, and then ran down the first-floor hall as fast as he could go, vomiting all over himself as he went. Kids were running everywhere, shrieking in panic. Peabody's own panic was not quite that complete. He remembered what he was supposed to do in extreme situations - although he didn't think anyone had ever envisioned a situation as extreme as this; he had an idea that Reverend Gardener had been thinking in terms of a kid going bugfuck and cutting another kid up, something like that.
Beyond the parlor where new boys were brought when they first came to the Sunlight Home was a small upstairs office used only by the thugs Gardener referred to as his 'student aides.'
Peabody locked himself in this room, picked up the phone, and dialled an emergency number. A moment later he was talking to Franky Williams.
'Peabody, at the Sunlight Home,' he said. 'You ought to get up here with as many police as you can get, Officer Williams. All hell has - '
Outside he heard a wailing shriek followed by a crash of breaking wood. There was a snarling, barking roar, and the shriek was cut off.
' - has busted loose up here,' he finished.
'What kind of hell?' Williams asked impatiently. 'Lemme talk to Gardener.'
'I don't know where the Reverend is, but he'd want you up here. There's people dead. Kids dead.'
'What?'
'Just get up here with a lot of men,' Peabody said. 'And a lot of guns.'
Another scream. The crash-thud of something heavy - the old highboy in the front hall, probably - being overturned.
'Machine-guns, if you can find them.'
A crystalline jangle as the big chandelier in the hall came down. Peabody cringed. It sounded like that monster was tearing the whole place apart with its bare hands.
'Hell, bring a nuke if you can,' Peabody said, beginning to blubber.
'What - '
Peabody hung up before Williams could finish. He crawled into the kneehole under the desk. Wrapped his arms around his head. And began to pray assiduously that all of this should prove to be only a dream - the worst f**king nightmare he had ever had.
15
Wolf raged along the first-floor hall between the common room and the front door, pausing only to overturn the highboy, then to leap easily up and grab the chandelier. He swung on it like Tarzan until it tore out of the ceiling and spilled diamonds of crystal all over the hallway runner.
DOWN-side. Jacky was on the DOWN-side. Now . . . which side was that?
A boy who was no longer able to stand the agonizing tension of waiting for the thing to be gone jerked open the door of the closet where he had been hiding and bolted for the stairs. Wolf grabbed him and threw him the length of the hall. The boy struck the closed kitchen door with a bone-breaking thud and fell in a heap.
Wolf's head swam with the intoxicating odor of fresh-spilled blood. His hair hung in bloody dreadlocks around his jaw and muzzle. He tried to hold on to thought, but it was hard - hard. He had to find Jacky very quickly now, before he lost the ability to think completely.
He raced back toward the kitchen, where he had come in, dropping to all fours again because movement was faster and easier that way . . . and suddenly, passing a closed door, he remembered. The narrow place. It had been like going down into a grave. The smell, wet and heavy in his throat -