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Jeff turned, extended his left arm toward Cooper.

The hunk of meat dangled inches from Cooper’s face. Juice dribbled down to the floor.

“EAT,” Monster Jeff said. “FORRRR, STRENGTH.”

Cooper gagged. In the same moment, he brought his fist to his mouth, hid the gag with a forced follow-up cough. He coughed again, made it as loud as he could, let everyone see it and hear it.

Fake it be like them whatever it takes be like them …

He looked over at the Tall Man, who was biting into a greasy handful of flesh. Chewing.

Be like them …

Cooper reached out and gripped the handful of hot meat, slid it off Jeff’s hideous, pointy bone-blade — Sofia’s flesh came free with a slight squelching sound and another bomb-run pattern of juice.

Jeff smiled his long-toothed smile.

Cooper Mitch.e.l.l was going crazy. He knew it, he could feel it, because only a crazy murderer-coward would do this unforgivable thing to stay alive. If he had to choose between sanity and death, he’d wear the straitjacket well. That was the price of life.

Cooper raised the piece of Sofia to his mouth. He hoped no one could see the tears that stung the corners of his eyes, or, if they could, that they’d think it was from the coughing.

He bit down, and tasted her.

BAT TWELVE

“Factories?” Blackmon said. “They’re destroying our factories?”

Nancy Whittaker was the latest bearer of bad news, and her news was a doozy. If Murray hadn’t been so bone-tired, he would have felt sympathy for the woman.

“No question, Madam President,” Whittaker said. “Four hours ago, CNN covered an attack on a brewery in Bakersfield. After that, the Converted started attacking breweries, bakeries and transportation centers all over the country. The methods are different in each city, so it doesn’t look like a coordinated attack. The news coverage must have given them the idea.”

Blackmon slapped the table. “But we protected those facilities! We a.s.signed police, National Guard, even what regular army we could spare.”

“From what we can gather, the Converted know enough to attack in large numbers,” Whittaker said. “In some places, they overwhelmed defense forces. In others …” Whittaker cleared her throat, tried to work out the final words. “In others, it appears that some Guard members and police were Converted themselves.”

Blackmon’s face reddened slightly. “How much production capacity have we lost?”

“Around sixty percent, so far,” Whittaker said. “But the attacks are still under way. We a.s.sume we’ll lose at least another twenty percent.”

Blackmon fell back into her chair, as if an invisible hand had gently pushed her. She stared off.