For a few dollars, Hodge let them hole up in the pantry.
Eli propped himself up against the sacks of flour, intent on recovering some of his lost sleep. Danny paced back and forth across the room for a few minutes, buzzing with agitation.
Finally, she said, “I’m gonna go talk to Faulkner,” and left.
It was sometime in the afternoon by the time Eli woke; warm, golden sunlight slipped through the windows, illuminating the pantry in bright patches. Dust motes danced in the sunbeams.
Jack was asleep, curled against the side of the dog where it lay on the floor. There was still mud splashed across his clothes and face, although it had dried over the course of the day. Asleep, he looked strangely small. Vulnerable.
He didn’t at all look like a rampaging, body-stealing evil spirit. But maybe that was the point.
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