The Twelve (The Passage, #2)

by Justin Cronin

He was a young guy, too young for how much money he had—Wall Street money, probably, or one of those high-tech IPOs.

scrim of thinning hair

poplin

he advanced cautiously along the front of the store,

the woman lowered herself into the car.

And that, said Pooh, was that.”

Outside, the summer night was veiled in blackness.

and on and on, neither possessing the will,

The view from the window was of a world at peace, the sky pinpricked with stars.

His gaze widened, then taking in the entirety of the camp.

Quickening his stride, he made his way to the shed,

The mob was pressing behind them, funneling toward the gap.

A great human weight crashed into Kittridge from behind. As the crowd enveloped him, he heard April scream.

ex-murus

“Doesn’t matter what I think. You know that as well as I do. Dee sets her mind to something, you might as well just hang up your balls and call it a day.”

There were other stories. Tifty’s great-grandfather,

a pale disk of moonlit sky.

A ghostly moon, daytime white, was hovering near the sun.

Here was the river, Amy thought. The great, coursing river of the past.

Odd that he wouldn’t think about it for weeks or even months at a time, and then, without warning, the memories would sail into his mind.

Peter felt her absence immediately, as he always did.

found themselves in a line of traffic—transports,

And then shortly after noon on the fifth day, Alicia was resting in the culvert where she’d made her camp when she heard the distant wallop of an explosion. She pointed her binoculars to the heart of the city. A plume of black smoke was uncoiling from the base of the hill.

Peeking over the top of the windshield, Alicia counted eight men.

He took the stairs from the basement to his office, donned his glasses, and opened the drapes. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, jetting the clouds with ribbons of bright color.

He slogged his way across the street, then moved down the block, peering in the storefronts.

At the end of the second block he tried a handle without looking—he was just going through the motions now—and was startled when the door swung open.

phalanx

Amy threaded past them and headed up the stairs. None of the other men paid her any note; the guards at the gate had verified her presence as warranted.

she couldn’t help herself. She led the child away, deeper and deeper into the woods. Soon the little girl was lost and began to cry.

shaving. The day, and most of the night besides, had disappeared