Chapter 68
CAUSTIC FLAMES billowed out from under the puttermobile’s hood, stinking toxic black smears already streaking the white plume of smoke as flaming gel seeped under the hood and ignited the plastic within. In the driver’s seat, Bill struggled with the tangled hoses of the stolen flamethrower.
A few yards up the road, seven empty shells that had once been eight human beings marched towards me in creepily perfect lockstep. Through the innumerable leaves and dangling melons of the willow tree on the corner behind them, I glimpsed Alice and Nat locked together, immobile.
Behind all of them, a sky blue puttermobile raced up the road. Ceren.
Wormface was in the back of the dregs. If hotheaded Ceren drove the puttermobile into him—
No. I did not want Ceren tangling with Wormface.
R
