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stoking a score of conflagrations。 Former citizens caught off…guard by the storm and blast lay stiff and silted； stick figures sculpted in blistered ash。 A handful of still…living sinners had evidently gone mad and taken to the streets； repressed libidos unchecked in the absence of a just and angry God。
And then there were the creatures； the malformed alien things。 They curled up in doorways and vestibules； caught sidewalk shadows that fended off the dancing； flickering fire。 Some of them were nearly as big as the buildings they dozed in the shelter of。
He found himself marveling at their slumber； and wondering if they dreamed。
Gary twisted the throttle； slaloming through abandoned and wrecked vehicles； hauling ass for the outskirts of town with Kirk hot on his tail。 His hands were tingling： the condensation on his gloves working its way into the seams； trying to find a breach。 His mind was a schizophrenic relay race： unable to believe what was happening； unable to deny it。 He cursed and sped up； inadvertently opening a gap between the bike and the wagon。
They hit the intersection of Market and Memory Lane with some sixty yards between them； at eighty…six miles an hour； they cleared the intersection less than two seconds apart。
Time enough for Gary to make it。
Kirk wasn't so lucky。
Dean's tanker truck passed between them as they barreled through； the remains of Dean at the wheel： a man…sized mass of gristle and tumors。 Twenty…five years of bad habits had left him so toxic that when it finally awoke； he promptly exploded。 What was left unconsciously manned the helm； skeletal hands dripping chunks as they raked the wheel。
The truck roared through the crossing and blindsided Kirk； catching the wagon just over the right rear wheel well and crumpling it like an aluminum can。
An experienced driver Kirk Bogarde was not。 His reaction was instant； and utterly wrong： slamming the brakes and oversteering radically； then countering in a wild seesaw motion。 The car responded by spinning into a gut…churning three…sixty。
Gary looked back just in time to catch sight of the wagon hopping the curb near the edge of the K…mart parking lot and broadsiding the concrete retaining wall； spitting sparks and stray metal。
〃SHIT！〃 he cursed； skidding to a halt。 He spun the softtail neatly in the middle of Market Street and looked back。
Paradise was doomed； of that he was certain。 Kirk's car was a good three hundred yards behind on the burning street； hugging the low wall； its right side crushed from bumper to bumper。 Gary seriously wondered if Kirk was dead； and had no real desire to go and find out。
He gunned the engine； weighing his obligations： to go on； to go back； to just go home and get the hell out of there。
Then Kirk's headlights flashed pleadingly； over and over and over； going hi lo hi lo hi lo hi lo。
〃SHIT！〃 Gary cried out。 He knew he didn't have any choice。 He revved the throttle against every instinct。
And turned the bike around。
〃Please 。。。 〃 Kirk worked the headlights desperately and fought the urge to black out。 〃Don't leave me！〃 he said。
Between the blood and the crushed glass； he couldn't see a goddamned thing。 The front windshield was starred from the impact and sparkling； there was a corresponding inch…long gash on his forehead。 It felt like his left leg was broken； too。 Otherwise he thought he got off lucky。
At least； until he saw the Parade。
It was ing right toward him； from the southeast： sweeping down Memory Lane； spilling across the K…mart parking lot； chewing up everything in its path。 It clanged and rasped like a demolition derby show； Vlad the Impaler on a Funny Car Saturday。 Eight hundred fresh victims stoked its mass。
Kirk was determined not to be the eight hundredth and first。
〃NAHHHH！〃 he cried； adrenaline resurging through him as he fumbled with the seat belt。 Blood slicked his grip； he couldn't get it undone。
The Parade rumbled closer。 Sixty yards。 Fifty。 He could see the twitching bits and pieces hanging from its many sharp and whirring surfaces。 Forty yards。 Thirty。 The smell of burning rubber and diesel and flesh flooded his senses。
And that was when Kirk got his first glimpse of the NewSpawn。
It was the size of a cocker spaniel； chunky and malformed； its snout hardened and drawn into a beak of sorts。 Its front claws elongated into digits like fingers； like hands。 It pounced and skittered across the hood of the car； toward the shotgun…side door 。。。
〃NO； GOD！〃 he screamed； as it weaseled its head in through the crack in the window。 His hand flew to the window crank； frantically rolling it shut。 The spawn caught； spat black venom blood。 Kirk squeezed off its head with his glass guillotine。
Then the driver's door flew open beside him； and before Kirk could scream； the figure with the knife brought its blade to his chest 。。。
。。。 and Gary was there； saying can you stand？ as his Buck knife sawed through the seat belt。 Kirk nodded yes and hoped he was right； fighting a wave of vertigo as Gary reached past him to grab the camcorder off the seat 。。。
。。。 just as the first juggernaut loomed before the car； a giant metal scorpion…thing with a crown of steel thorns and a three…year…old blond girl's head impaled upon it。 Its huge rusted stinger craned slowly up above its own blunt head； creaking as it drew a bead 。。。
。。。 then whipped down； astonishingly fast； dragging a screech from Kirk's lungs as he threw himself sideways； glass exploding in his face； the taste of metal throbbing in his teeth； the skewer dinging off Gary's helmet before imbedding in the upholstery； the chassis； the road 。。。
。。。 and then they were running： Gary in the lead； Kirk half…dragged along behind。 The Harley was waiting； thank God。 Their last friend on Earth； it obeyed their mands； doing a hundred and thirty per down Market Street。
On its way to the tower。
At the peak of Mount Hope。
Fifty…Six
For a second there； Micki thought she heard a motorcycle in the distance： the shrill whine of an overrewed engine； the shriek of skidding tires。 Then it was gone； and she was left with the sounds on the wind。
The sounds of the death of the world。
〃It wasn't him；〃 she said； anticipating the question； unable to screen out the inconsolable weight of Gwen's fear。 Something slithered across the windowpane outside。 She couldn't do much about that； either。
Gwen stopped painting for a second； leaned her head into her hands。 She was pulling it together pretty well now； under the circumstances； but Micki'd had to admit to herself that Gwen was not all there anymore。 She had to walk on eggshells if she didn't want to watch her fold。
〃He isn't ing； is he？〃 Gwen moaned； tears pooling in her eyes again。
〃Yes he is。〃 Gentle。 Tense。 The forced voice of calm。 〃Of course he is。 Bobba said so。 Now e on； we gotta hurry。〃
It was a lie； of course。 Bobba didn't have a clue how Gary was。 At this point； Micki couldn't even think about it。 She had left a spirit doorway in the outer circle。 It would open for Gary's soul alone。 Beyond that； there was nothing she could do。
In the world beyond the outer circle； survival was no longer an option。 There were things out there she could hear and smell that she did not want to see。 Their howls of triumphant carnage were the music on the wind。 Their stench rode the mist。
She could dimly see dark shapes amassing on the perimeter； but so far； the outer circle seemed to be keeping them there。 Micki took this as a very good sign。 It suggested the magick could hold its own； even hopelessly outgunned； in the face of environmental Armageddon。
But you can't run from the devil in your own back pocket； nattered a nasty little voice in her head。 It was right。 You couldn't keep out what was already in； and that covered a lot of ground。
When the deluge came； it had not been selective； it fell on the virtuous as well as the wicked。 It fell on either side of the line。 The ring of lawn between the circle and the house had soaked up a lot of rain。
That rain had borne fruit。
Now the exterior of the house was crawling with vines。 They writhed serpentine on the walls； blindly scraped splintering furrows in the wood； dragged their thorns across the sweating glass。 Every second that ticked by brought them that much closer to entry； underscored the barbed…wire knot of panic coiling through her gut。
She had tried to protect the whole house； abiding by ritual； moving clockwise and frantically anointing every aperture and inlet with a mixture of salt and spring water。 No fucking way。 Every creaking door and rattling window； leaking faucet and drizzling drain； every single crack in every corner of every room beckoned her； demanding attention。 All of them needed to be mystically sealed。
It was just too huge。
And she was running out of time。
From that point on； her life had been measured in minutes。 Four spent helping Gwen up to the nursery； getting her situated。 Another five tearing the place apart until it coughed up the supplies she needed： a box of scented bathroom candles； matches； a pair of heavy quilts； canned food