of the frame. Ready to knock. His wrists slashed. The blood streaking down the glass from the inside.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Christopher’s mother stopped. Someone was on her porch. She saw her husband in the photographs. He banged on the glass just as she heard a bang on the front door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Ding dong.
Christopher’s mother tiptoed away from the door. She had to get out of here. She had to get to Christopher. The doorknob turned. Stopped by the lock. She backed away into the living room. Never taking her eyes from the front door.
Until she walked straight into a body.
She spun around. She saw him. Standing with a gun.
“Hi, Kate,” Jerry said.
Chapter 108
The boys were surrounded.
Matt looked down at the clearing and saw Mrs. Henderson on the ground. His lazy eye began to burn as if his doctor had just put drops in it. The same lazy eye that Christopher had healed. Through it, he could see the shadow of a man moving through the clearing from person to person. Whispering.
The flock’s random movements began to unify. The people hanging from the sagging branches freed their necks from the nooses. They dropped to the ground like acorns and gathered around Mrs. Henderson, who lay on the ground with a deep gash in the middle of her forehead left by Special Ed’s bullet.
“Jesus. She’s still alive,” Mike said.
“That’s impossible,” Special Ed said, moving to the window.
The boys watched in silence as the town picked her up gently. Mrs. Henderson nodded her thanks to the mailbox people. Then, she put a loving hand on the shoulders closest to her and pulled the thread from her lips as if unraveling a sweater. She spoke calmly.
“Kill Christopher and bring him back to the tree,” she said.
Half of the flock began to run silently through the woods. The other half stayed, waiting for her next command. Mrs. Henderson snipped the thread from Doug and Debbie Dunham’s lips.
“Go to Mary Katherine. She is laughing at you both. Make her stop.”
The two teenagers nodded and ran back through the woods. Mrs. Henderson put down the knife. She took a little needle and thread from her sewing kit. She looked up at the tree house, staring at Special Ed while she stitched the bullet wound he left in her forehead like a thumbprint on Ash Wednesday.
Then, Mrs. Henderson led the charge up the ladder.
“Oh, my God,” Matt said.
Special Ed checked his gun. Five shots in the cylinder. Two hundred rounds in his backpack. He threw open the door and pointed his gun down. Like a deranged video game, dozens of people were climbing the ladder, with hundreds waiting to take their place. Special Ed shot. Slowing the tide. Bodies fell backward. But no one would die. No one would stop.
Matt watched the madness, his lazy eye burning. He could see the shadow man everywhere. Whispering to people. His shadow transforming into a warm kitchen. A hotel room. A dream house. The boy who finally loved them back. The girl who finally said yes. The long-lost father. The prodigal son. Whispering. All they had to do was open the door. Take the tree house. Hurt those three little kids blocking their way, and then, they could be happy.
Forever.
“We’re never going to have enough ammunition,” Special Ed said.
Matt looked down. Eddie was right. Two hundred rounds would come and go, but the bad guys would keep coming. Mike grabbed the hammer and started to climb down.
“Cover me,” he said to Special Ed.
“No, Mike!” Matt screamed.
“They can’t climb if there isn’t a ladder. I’m not going to let them hurt you.”
Mike moved quickly down ten steps. The clearing went wild beneath him. Mike swung the hammer, knocking the first 2x4 loose. Matt took the gun out of Special Ed’s hand. He waited until the first mailbox person reached out for Mike’s leg.
Then, he shot.
The mailbox person fell, taking down people like dominoes. Mike threw the 2x4 up to the tree house for Special Ed to catch. Then, Mike climbed up another step, prying each 2x4 loose. Throwing them up. Taking the ladder up with him.
“Knock him off the tree!” Mrs. Henderson shouted.
The people in the clearing threw rocks. Stones. Whatever they could find. The debris hit Mike, but nothing could stop him. He took another step. And another. He reached the last 2x4. The last step. There was a good twelve feet under him. Nobody could reach the tree house from there. They could wait for Christopher to bring help. They could