Steve Shell

Some poor thing, down on her luck probably, just trying to find her boy a good home, she answered sadly.

I'll take him over to Father Murphy at the church in the morning.

He'll know what to do, but for now, let's get this little one cleaned up.

He's got something on his face, see?

Polly Barrow smiled.

A while later, lanterns were extinguished in the house across the street, and the moon rose above the trees, and the crickets began to sing.

And for a long while, all was quiet and peaceful in Cabora.

And then softly, so, so softly, through the open window came the sound of a little child beginning to fuss in the night.

Followed by something.

A strange sound, like fabric tearing.

A noise heard more as an echo deep in the skull than anything captured by the ear.

The air filled with the smell of ozone.

and the hairs rose on the back of Polly's neck and the crickets ceased their endless song and for a moment the whole world fell still as if some great predator moved among them.

And then the screaming began.

In the wee hours before dawn...

Before anyone could be expected to pass by the farmhouse or come looking for Romeo Capriati and his brothers when they didn't show up for their shifts at Pascoe No.

3, Polly Barrow and the two hollow men stepped from the Cadillac and walked across the road to collect their charge.

Nobody locked their doors back then.

Not that it would have saved Romeo Capriotti and his family, so Mr. Churchman simply opened the front door, ducking to avoid bumping his head on the jam.

The house was a shambles.