what I will do is: I will shoot them when they come near me and it will not stop them but it will hurt them and that is better than nothing and...
And so he lay there, stunned, against the overturned table, and watched them come for him.
And saw Jack Crow save what was left.
He saw it from a long way off, it seemed, as though Jack and the monsters and even the rest of the building, were far, far away. But he still saw it. And what he saw, even from the end of his conked tunnel, was amazing. Jack Crow did things Felix couldn't imagine being done. He did things no one else but Jack Crow, Crusader, by God, Jack Crow, could have done.
He was everywhere at once. And had to be. The other goons had arisen at the same time as the black man at Felix's feet, and though they were slow and ponderous and unthinking, there were too many of them. And they were so hungry, reaching for him, lunging at him, grisly fingers grasping and clawing and - And Jack Crow bashed 'em back. He emptied his crossbow and emptied his pistol and grabbed up a handful of pikes and laid into them. He bashed them, he spitted them, be carved them with splintered ends. There was no one else:
Adam guarded the women in the entry hail. Cat was out bringing up the Blazer. Felix lay almost comatose against the shattered table. For the next few crucial minutes there would be no one else to hold them off but Jack alone.
And Jack didn't seem to give a shit. He went after them with a ferocity that Felix, even stunned as be was, could hardly believe. It was like some sort of grotesque juggling act. Jack would slam two of them down somehow, but by that time two more would have arisen again, spitting and hissing and reaching for him. And he would slam them down again, spear them with the pikes or shoot them through their faces or once, just flat bust them in the mouth with his fist.
He's incredible, thought Felix. He's bigger than life.
And then he thought: I've got to get up! I've got to do something!
But then Jack was there, beside him, speaking softly but quickly: "C'mon, buddy. We've gotta move. C'mon!"
And then be turned and kicked the black man full in the face, the one with nine silver bullets in him, who had only now started to rise again.
"C'mon, Gunman," said Jack, lifting him with surprising gentleness, to his feet.
Pain seared through Felix's skull when his head came loose from the table and he saw Jack wince in sympathy but they didn't stop, they got Felix up and they got him moving and the pain began to clear his head and then they were in the entry hail and the women were there, Annabelle and Davette, huddled together against a wall and dammit if Annabelle didn't manage a smile for them.
And then Jack and Adam were closing the huge sliding oak doors to the living room and dragging some antique side table across the marble to barricade it. The other doors were already closed with other furniture stacked against them. Only the massive front door, standing open to the returning rain, was free.
"Your head," said a small voice.
Felix turned and saw Davette, her hand frozen in midair where she had started to reach for his wound.
"I'm all right," Felix managed to say.
And she nodded vaguely and stepped back to Annabelle and Felix thought: Move, Felix! Wake up!
And he shook his head for more pain and gritted his teeth and looked down at the Browning still in his hand and...
And it helped. Some.
"Where's Cat?" Jack wanted to know.
Father Adam shook his head. "Haven't seen him. Do you think..."
Jack was at the front door, looking warily out into the night.
"Do I think what?" he barked.
Adam swallowed. "We haven't seen any masters. Maybe they couldn't come in here. Maybe they're..."
And he gestured out the door.
"Oh, shit!" sighed Jack.
And the dead grasping hands began scratching at the sliding oak doors.
Jack looked at the doors, saw them start to lean inward with the weight and thirst of the dead.
"Well, we can't stay here. Maybe..."
Bright headlights framed the door and there was a loud crunching noise as Cat vaulted the Blazer up the front steps and came to a skidding stop on the wide front landing of the great home.
"Whenever ya'all are ready!" he shouted through the driver's