Salem's Lot

Chapter Fifteen

BEN AND MARK

1

Mark woke up a little at a time, letting the Citroën’s steady hum bring him back without thought or memory. At last he looked out the window, and fright took him in rough hands. It was dark. The trees at the sides of the road were vague blurs, and the cars that passed them had their parking lights and headlights on. A gagging, inarticulate groan escaped him, and he clawed at his neck for the cross that still hung there.

‘Relax,’ Ben said. ‘We’re out of town. It’s twenty miles behind us.’

The boy reached over him, almost making him swerve, and locked the driver’s side door. Whirling, he locked his own door. Then he crouched slowly down in a ball on his side of the seat. He wished the nothingness would come back. The nothingness was nice. Nice nothingness with no nasty pictures in it.

The steady sound of the Citroën’s engine was soothing. Mmmmmmmmmmm. Nice. He closed his eyes.

‘Mark?’

Safer not to answer.

‘Mark, are you all right?’

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

‘-mark-’

Far away. That was all right. Nice nothingness came back, and shades of gray swallowed him.