The Hungry (Book 3): At The End Of The World - Plot & Excerpts
“Holy shit,” Miller whispered. It was about thirty feet away from Miller, between two wine racks. She felt a cold malevolence wash over her, and the creature came into focus. It appeared to be the head and upper body of an old man. A very old man. Miller looked at her friends. They were just visible in the dim light coming from the creature. Everyone seemed both stunned and frightened. The old man did not look happy either. “What the hell is wrong with you people?” The apparition shook its finger in their direction. Miller blinked and looked more closely. The ghost was lit by a reddish light coming from somewhere overhead. It was missing several teeth. It was shirtless and excessively wrinkled, that wizened body covered with thin white hair that had become matted in spots, kind of squashed into mini cotton balls. Then the ghost cleared a raspy throat—which, from the sound of it, led to the expulsion of a large quantity of otherworldly phlegm. It spat on the ground. Miller thought stupidly: Do ghosts spit lugies?
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