But Collie was already pulling Gus through the front door and into the living room. Wallace lumbered in after them, closing the door, the grimace on his face almost painful to see. Collie left Gus at the archway and took position at the edge of the picture window. “Stay away from the windows,” Collie hissed at him, her own Sig Sauer drawn and posed at her shoulder as she peeked around the edge of the sheers. “Who are they?” Gus asked in an anxious whisper. “Road savages. Freaks. Killers. Whatever you want to call them.” “What? How do you know that?” “I don’t, but it’s best to assume until proven otherwise.” “Jesus,” Gus said. He glanced toward the end of the hall, where the stairs began, and his mouth dropped open. There, like a pair of huge cockroaches freshly squashed, lay the leftovers of Dwight and Ricky. Collie kept her eyes on the road as Wallace shuffled past Gus toward the end of the hall.
