I dig my fingers into my skull, trying to pull myself together, trying to think. “We have to get Miss Granger … and the priests … they’ll know what to do.”
A loud insistent bark pulls my attention. I look out the window to see Hammy standing at the edge of the wheat, hackles raised, growling at the dirt. A small hand emerges from the ground and all I can think of is Ali climbing out of that cow. I watch in horror as that fucking baby doll crawls out of the hole and stands on its own two feet. The doll looks up, fixing her big, shiny black eyes on me, and grins.
“It’s alive,” I whisper.
It was the doll that was moving around in Jess’s room all that time. The doll from the photo of our ancestors.
The baby doll takes off running into the wheat with Hammy chasing after it.
I press myself against the glass to get a better view.
And that’s when I see them.
The others.
60
HUNDREDS OF people are walking through the wheat, straight for our farm.
I blink hard, hoping this is just another vision, but there’s something about this that feels all too real … inevitable. This is supposed to be over. Maybe they made a mistake. Maybe I needed to be exorcized, too.
“We have to get out of here. We have to get back to the breeding barn,” I say as I gather up Ali’s clothes. “We’re going to have to run.”
“Run? I … I can’t. You’re going to have to leave me here and get help.”
I scoop her up in my arms. “I’m not leaving you. No matter what happens … no matter what you see … I’m with you. Do you understand?”
I force her to look at me, relieved to find it’s still Ali … the girl I love with the soft hazel eyes. “Just hang on to me,” I say as I carry her down the stairs, past the flies and their sickening whispers. I open the front door to find the perimeter of the wheat filled with people, with hundreds more pushing through behind them. Some are complete strangers … some I recognize from town.
“Dale,” I yell. He smiles, but it’s not his smile. His eyes are pure black—dead and inhuman.
This is just like my dream … the vision I had during the game.
Dale’s one of them now, along with Greg Tilford, Reverend Devers, Mrs. Gifford, Mr. Cox … they’re all a part of this now.
“Clay … what’s wrong with them?” Ali asks. “Why are they smiling like that? What’s wrong with their eyes? Why won’t they help us?”
I take off running with Ali in my arms toward the Neely ranch. “Don’t fucking come near us,” I scream as I cut through the wheat, but they’re everywhere. They don’t try to grab us, but they’re following. Watching. It’s so dark now that I can hardly see more than a few feet in front of me, but I can hear them breathing all around me.
I’m never going to make it all the way back to the barn carrying her like this. I see the silhouette of the combine in the distance and I pick up my pace.
I’m hurrying to stay one step ahead of these freaks, but I can’t afford a misstep. Ali’s in bad enough shape as it is. She muffles an occasional scream into my shoulder as her stomach roils and heaves. It only seems to be getting worse. My muscles are burning, but I keep going. Whatever’s happening to her, Miss Granger will know what to do. She has to. I can’t lose Ali again.
As I’m hoisting Ali into the cab of the combine, I hear the keys drop out of my pocket. “Damn it.”
I get down on my hands and knees, feeling my way around the discarded wheat stems, and I hear one of the stalks snap. I look up, afraid to see anything, afraid not to, but it’s pitch-black now.
“Clay, hurry,” Ali pleads.
I grope around in the dark. “Come on … please,” I whisper. As soon as my fingertips brush the cold metal, I let out a huge gust of pent-up air. “Got ’em,” I call out.
Gripping the keys in my hand, I climb into the combine.
“You ready?” I ask.
Ali’s still in a lot of pain, but she nods as she settles on my lap.
I turn the key; the engine roars to life, the headlights illuminating hundreds of bodies crowded in all around us. Ali screams, nuzzling her face into my neck. They’re just standing there in the wheat, staring at us, with rictus grins and those black eyes.
“Go … go!” Ali yells.
I shake off the terror building inside me and grind the tractor into gear.
Sheriff Ely staggers in front of the headlights.
“Wait,” he yells, waving his hands around.
His eyes are normal. He’s not one of them. I try to slam on the brake, put it in reverse, turn the wheel, but nothing’s working. I even pull the key out of the ignition, but it still won’t stop.
“Get out … get out of the way … move!” I yell, but Ely just looks up at me in shock as the combine lurches forward. There’s a horrific scream, followed by a huge bump as fresh blood splatters the windshield.
“Oh my God … my God … I killed him!”
I think about opening the door and jumping out, but Ali’s doubled over in pain. We’ll never be able to make it on foot in her condition.