“How’d it get out there, then?”

“Devil,” said Korsher simply.

“The devil?”

“Yeah. Devil came on by, picked it up, all laughing, and gave it a toss. Now it’s stuck out there for all to see.” He took a drink from his flask again and made a face, then drank again. “Like a kid throwing rocks at an empty house, yes sir. You believe in the devil?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I do. I certainly do. My daddy talked about him all the time. You couldn’t tangle with such a thing, not by a long shot. He said the world was littered with bones of men who’d try and get the devil. Try and sneak up on him and kill him, you know? But the devil was too smart for them. He’d act all innocent and lead them into a trap. Wind up getting them instead. Said it’d been going on since forever.”

“Oh. That’s something.”

“He said when God was asleep the devil come down here and rearranged things,” slurred Korsher. “Then God went on back and breathed a spirit into man and set us loose, not knowing any better. Meant to give us the world but gave us hardship instead, devil just cackling away. You believe that?”

“I could.”

Korsher was quiet for a while. Then he said, “You know what?”

“No. What?”

“I believe I may have saw him the other night.”

“Seen who?”

“The devil.”

Connelly waited. Then he said, “You did?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I think I did.”

“What makes you say that?”

“ ’Cause he looked just like my daddy said he would.”

“What did your daddy say?”

“Said he was a great, tall man in a great black cloak. So tall he could walk through a cornfield and his knuckles wouldn’t scrape a single ear. Said he had eyes like stars, and that every inch of him was scarred from where the angels whipped him raw.”

Connelly sat forward. “What?”

“Hm?”

“What did you say? Just now? About the scars?”

“Oh. I said the devil was scarred from where the angels had whupped him.”

“Wh-what was he doing?”

“When? Last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Just… I don’t know, just walking by. I saw him pass through the town and go down into the yard. I thought I had gone nuts. Nearly… Well, I nearly pissed myself. People got out of his way like Moses and the sea. It was like just him being there made them want to run. I couldn’t get away,” he said softly. “Because of my leg. So I sat and he passed by just inches away and I looked into his face and I wished I never had. Not ever. I didn’t want to sleep in the camp after that. He’d know where I was, see, and come and get me.”

Connelly’s mind reeled. He struggled to control it. “And before that? The part about… about all those men who’d chased him?”

“What about it?”

“What did you say happened to them?”

Korsher looked at him. “He killed every single one of them,” he said. “Tricked them. My father said it’d been going on since before men could speak.”

Connelly jumped to his feet. “You stay there,” he said. “You just stay right there, you hear?”

“Well, sure, where the hell else am I gonna go?”

Connelly sprinted down to the camp, dodged between shanties and broken-down cars. He found Pike and the others crouched in the shadow of a tent. He grabbed Pike and said, “Come with me.”

“What? Why?” said Pike.

“Just come on.”

“Well, hell,” said Monk, and stood.

“N-No,” said Connelly. “Just Pike. I just want him to hear this. Just at first.”

“Why?” said Monk, suspicious.

“I don’t… I don’t know. I just want to see what someone else thinks.”

Connelly led Pike out to where Korsher lay. The cripple sat up again and said, “Who’s that?”

“Tell him what you told me,” said Connelly.

“Why should I?”

“Just shut up and tell him what you said.”

Korsher frowned but went through it again, stumbling through his story. He was deep in a drunken stupor now and Connelly had to prod him along. Pike watched the cripple with flat eyes and did not speak. When Korsher finished Pike was quiet for a long time and said, “That’s quite an interesting story, Mr. Korsher. I thank you for telling it to me.”

“Why the hell are you folks so fired up over this anyway?” said Korsher. “It upsets a fella, you know.” He lay back and drank more.

“My colleague here is somewhat… superstitious. I’m sorry if he upset you.”

“Didn’t upset shit. Just… just crazy is all.”

“Yes, well. Good night, Mr. Korsher,” said Pike, and tipped his hat. “Stay safe.”

Korsher muttered something and Pike began to walk away. Connelly followed.

“Well?” Connelly said.

Pike kept moving and did not turn.

“Well?” said Connelly again, and he reached out and grabbed Pike’s shoulder.

Pike spun around, angry. “Well, what?”

“Well, what do you make of that?”

“What do I make of it? What do I make of it? You mean, what do I make of a… a drunken cripple so besotted with moonshine he can barely sit up? What do I make of a bunch of silly ghost stories his father used to tell him to scare him? What do I make of that, is that what you’re asking?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m asking you that.”

“I think it’s nothing. I think you dragged me out here to listen to idiocy.” He began walking away.

“But what if it’s real,” said Connelly quietly.

Pike stopped. Then he turned and said, “Are you being serious with me, Mr. Connelly? You actually think this man may be the… what, the devil?”

Connelly shrugged.

“You know there’s ghost stories about him. You know that and you didn’t believe them. Just stories.”

“Not like this. Not like what’s going on now. He said other men had chased the scarred man. Said he’d trapped them. Killed them.”

“And? Could it be that he spread those stories himself, fearing for his life? Could it be just mere chance? You caught the stink of that man, you know he could barely see you, let alone Shivers.”

“This has happened before,” said Connelly. “It’s been going on since forever, he said.”

“You don’t know that.”

“But what if it has?”

“But what? Would that change anything?”

Connelly hesitated. “It might.”

“No. It wouldn’t. We would still be doing the same. And besides… Even if it has, Lottie says the shiver-man is afraid of you,” said Pike, his eyes shining. “Is that so?”

Connelly looked away.

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