Don't Fear the Reaper (The Indian Lake Trilogy, #2)

by Stephen Graham Jones

It’s stupid being superstitious like that, he knows, but if you don’t have private little rituals, the days can lose their meaning real fast.

In hindsight, it was a stupid decision, but being smart’s not as easy as everybody makes it out to be.

It should have been dead long ago, she knows, but souls are like livers: they regenerate and regenerate, until you’ve finally poisoned them enough that the only thing they can do is kill you, take you down with them.

one of them with antlers that looked the same underwater as they had above: wooden roots branching up and up in worship of the moon, to hug that pale light. They were wondrous.

You don’t investigate mysterious sounds, you don’t go skinnydipping, and you for sure don’t traipse into a place where it’s obvious people are already dying.

Hardly America’s proudest moment. But such is an attempted genocide.