![]() A small caf�� had also collapsed, except for the sign that read GOOD EATS Every step an exercise in agony, Josh walked past the crumbled buildings. A sign flapping back and forth on its hinges advertised TUCKER'S HARDWARE AND FEEDS, but the store's front window was shattered and the place looked bare as Mother Hubbard's cupboard. There was a Texaco station with one pump and a garage whose roof had collapsed. He saw no cars, no hint of light or life. The dark town-just a scatter of wind-ravaged buildings and a few widely spaced houses on dusty lots-beckoned him onward. Whatever Sullivan had once been, it was dead now. we've got some corn, and green beans, and boiled potatoes." He looked to the side, and something small-a jackrabbit? he wondered-darted out of sight behind the ruins of the caf��. Something moved at the corner of his vision. The outlines of small, blocky one-story buildings and red brick houses began to appear from the deepening scarlet gloom. He thought he must look like a zombie, or like the Frankenstein monster carrying the fainted heroine in his arms. He carried the exhausted child in his arms, as he had for the past two hours, and walked stiff-legged, the soles of his feet oozing with blisters and blood in shoes that were coming apart at the seams. The wind was still shoving mightily at his back, but after what seemed like eight hours of walking yesterday and at least five today, he was about to topple to the ground. "You broke my screen door," a woman's voice said in the gloom. He saw the woman's gnarled finger on the trigger. "Friend, that's going to attract every scavenger within smelling distance-and believe me, some of those bastards can sniff blood a long, long way." ![]() Johns is about four or five miles west." The man looked at Artie, who was dripping blood onto the snow. There may be a few people left, but after that flood of refugees washed in from the east I'd be surprised if you'd find much in any town along I-80. Hazleton's the nearest town of any size, and that's about ten miles south of St. He and Sister entered the woods after the shuffling figure of the man in the ski mask and left the highway of death behind. His ribs ached where the beast had hit him, and his legs felt like short pieces of soft rubber. Artie looked over his shoulder, terrified of more lurking predators coming up behind him. They had no choice but to hurry after him. If not, I'll say have a good trip to Detroit." If you want to go back with me, you'll be welcome. My cabin's about two miles north of here, as the crow flies. "Sounds like the makings of a stew to me. "Money ain't worth nothin' no more I'd blow your damn head off if I wouldn't have to clean up the mess"
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