A lot had happened in the intervening decade-plus. Billy was a country boy and stubborn, and when he quit college he had returned to his Appalachian home town in spite of the politics. Around here his preference for men seemed to be the first thing on everyone’s mind. This being almost two decades into the twenty-first century, that was damned annoying to Billy, not that he would ever show it, because that would be giving folks something they didn’t deserve to have.
However, the thought of putting a bullet in the dirt right in front of Bert Miller and making him drop a big old bigoted shit in his pants was extremely tempting. “I’m going to give him a jump, get him away from our tires, Willy.”
“No.” This came not from Willy Burke, but from behind him.
Norcross had materialized from the propped-open door at the rear of the prison. In the dimness, there was barely anything to his face except for the shine on the rims of his glasses.
“No?” Billy said.
“No.” Clint was rubbing the thumb of his left hand across the knuckles of his right. “Put one in his leg. Drop him.”
“Seriously?” Billy had shot game, but never a man.
Willy Burke made a kind of humming sound through his nose. “Bullet in the leg can kill a man, Doc.”
Clint nodded his head to show he understood. “We have to hold this place. Do it, Billy. Shoot him in the leg. That’ll be one less and it’ll show them we’re not playing games here.”
“All right,” Billy said.
He dropped his eye down to the scope. Selectman Miller, big as a billboard, crisscrossed by the two layers of chainlink, was fanning himself with his straw hat, the extinguisher set on the grass beside him. The crosshairs settled on Miller’s left knee. Billy was glad his target was such an asshole, but he hated to do it anyway.
He triggered.
8
Evie’s rules were:
1) Stay undercover and no killing until daylight!
2) Cut open the cocoons enclosing Kayleigh and Maura!
3) Enjoy life!
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Angel said. “But are you sure Maura an Kay won’t kill me while I’m enjoyin life?”
“Pretty sure,” Evie said.
“Good enough,” Angel said.
“Open her cell,” Evie said, and a line of rats emerged from the hole by the shower alcove. The first one stopped at the base of Angel’s cell door. The second climbed atop the first, the third atop the second. A tower formed, gray rat body stacked on gray rat body like hideous ice cream scoops. Evie gasped when she felt the bottom rat suffocate. “Oh, Mother,” she said. “I am so, so sorry.”
“Look at this wonderful circus shit here.” Angel was entranced. “You could make money at this, sister, you know it?”
The topmost rat was the smallest, still a pup. It squeezed into the keyhole and Evie controlled its tiny paws, searching through the mechanisms, investing it with a strength that no rat had ever possessed before. The cell door opened.
Angel fetched a couple of towels from the shower, fluffed them up, laid them on the bunk, and draped a blanket over them. She closed the cell door behind her. If anyone looked in, it would appear that she had finally lost the fight and fallen asleep.
She started up the corridor, headed for C Wing, where most of the cocooned sleepers now resided.
“Goodbye, Angel,” Evie called.
“Yeah,” Angel said. “See ya.” She hesitated with her hand on the door. “You hear screamin somewhere far off?”
Evie did. It was, she knew, Selectman Bert Miller, blatting about the bullet wound in his leg. His wailing carried inside the prison through the ventilation ducts. Angel didn’t need to concern herself with that.
“Don’t worry,” Evie said. “It’s just a man.”
“Oh,” Angel said, and left.
9
Jeanette had been sitting against the wall across from the cells during Angel and Evie’s conversation, listening and observing. Now she turned to Damian, years dead and buried over a hundred miles away, and yet also sitting beside her. He had a clutchhead screwdriver in his thigh and he was bleeding onto the floor, although the blood didn’t feel like anything to Jeanette, not even wet. Which was strange, because she was sitting in a pool of it.
“Did you see that?” she asked. “Those rats?”
“Yeah,” Damian said. His tone went high-pitched and squeaky, his imitation of her voice. “I see those ratsies, Jeanie baby.”
Ugh, Jeanette thought. He had been all right when he first reappeared in her life, but now he was becoming irritable.
“There’s rats just like that chew on my corpse because of how you killed me, Jeanie baby.”
“I’m sorry.” She touched her face. It felt like she was crying, but her face was dry. Jeanette scratched at her forehead, digging the nails in, trying to find some pain. She hated being crazy.
“Come on. Check it out.” Damian moved over, bringing his face up close. “They chewed me right down to the marrow.” His eyes were black sockets; the rats had eaten the eyeballs. Jeanette didn’t want to look, wanted to close her own eyes, but if she did, she knew sleep would be waiting.
“What kind of a mother lets her son’s daddy be done by like this? Kills him and lets the rats chew on him like he was a goddam Butterfinger?”
“Jeanette,” Evie said. “Hey. Over here.”
“Never mind that bitch, Jeanie,” Damian said. A rat pup fell out of his mouth as he spoke. It landed in Jeanette’s lap. She screamed and slapped at it, but it wasn’t there. “I need your attention. Eyes on me, moron.”
Evie said, “I’m glad you stayed awake, Jeanette. I’m glad you didn’t listen to me. Something’s happening on the other side and—well, I thought I’d be happy about it, but maybe I’m getting soft in my old age. On the off-chance this thing goes on long enough, I’d like for there to be a fair hearing.”
“What are you talking about?” Jeanette’s throat ached. Her everything ached.
“Do you want to see Bobby again?”
“Of course I want to see him,” Jeanette said, ignoring Damian. It was getting easier to do that. “Of course I want to see my boy.”
“All right, then. Listen carefully. There are secret ways between the two worlds—tunnels. Each woman who goes to sleep passes through one of them, but there’s another—a very special one—that begins at a very special tree. That’s the only one that goes both ways. Do you understand?”
“No.”
“You will,” Evie said. “There’s a woman on the other side of that tunnel, and she’s going to close it unless someone stops her. I respect her position, I think it’s perfectly valid, the male species has performed abysmally on this side of the Tree, no amount of grade inflation can alter that conclusion, but everyone deserves a say. One woman, one vote. Elaine Nutting can’t be allowed to make the decision for everyone.”
Evie’s face was at the bars of her cell. Verdant tendrils had grown up around her temples. Her eyes were auburn-colored tiger eyes. Moths had gathered in her hair, collecting themselves into a fluttering band. She was a monster, Jeanette thought, and beautiful.
“What does that have to do with Bobby?”
“If the Tree burns, the tunnel closes. No one can ever come back. Not you, not any other woman, Jeanette. The end will become inevitable.”
“Nope, nope, nope. It’s already inevitable,” Damian said. “Go to sleep, Jeanie.”