CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - Roland To The Rescue* 1 *
Earl stared down the ant hole, like a short pudgy Alice, staring at the biggest ugliest eyeball he’d ever seen.
The eyeball blinked again.
Was it his reflection?
The ants started moving.
Christ, they’ve spotted me.
They’re getting set to attack.
Only they weren’t attacking. It was more like they were on maneuver. Like one of those marching parades. The ants were making writing on the ground. They were making words.
I-M-N-O-T-A-R-E-F-L-E-C-T-I-O-N
What the hell?
Since when can ants spell?
But they were gone that quickly, rearranging themselves like the magic sand in an Etch-a-Sketch.
I-M-A-N-E-Y-E
Fuck.
It’s the eye - talking to me through the ants.
I-A-M-W-A-I-T-I-N-G
For a moment Earl forgot all about the scarecrows.
“Try and
