“Frank’s not real,” Jose said, and then he thought for a moment. “He’s not alive. He can’t be.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s nothing inside of Frank anymore.”

“Nothing inside?”

“He’s been hollowed out,” Jose said quickly. “He’s like some … some kind of puppet. His back has been torn off and something scooped out all of his insides. Everything’s gone. There’s nothing in there.”

“Then how – ”

“I don’t know!” Jose snapped. He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he repeated in a softer voice. “He’s just a puppet for whatever’s out there.”

Cole glanced at Stella; she had taken David to the couch and sat him down. David grabbed his notebook and pen right away, and he held them protectively on his lap. They both looked back at Cole and Jose.

Jose startled Cole by grabbing his arm hard, Jose’s fingers dug into Cole’s flesh. But Cole didn’t pull away; he stared into Jose’s unblinking eyes of terror. “We have to give him the eyeballs. We have to give them to him.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“It can do anything it wants to,” Jose continued as he stared into Cole’s eyes.

“No it can’t,” Cole answered him, “or we’d all be dead already. If this thing can come in here anytime it wants to and take all of us, then why hasn’t this … this thing done that yet?”

Jose startled Cole by jumping to his feet. He paced around for a few seconds, like he wasn’t sure where he was going to go or what he was going to do, he was like a caged animal that knew it couldn’t escape but couldn’t help running around the cage and searching for a way out. Jose dashed to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of whiskey off the counter. He spun the lid off and drank down a few long swallows of the bourbon, something to numb him from the horrors that waited outside for them.

Cole watched Jose for a few seconds, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to get through to Jose right now – he was too frightened by whatever he’d seen out there, by Frank’s hollowed-out body? Cole couldn’t believe that, he couldn’t wrap his mind around that. It had to be a mistake; Jose had to have misunderstood what he’d seen out there. There was no way that could be possible. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real.

Cole looked over at Stella, and then he walked towards her. “Why eyeballs?” he asked her. “If all this … thing that’s supposed to be out there wants is eyeballs, then why doesn’t it take Frank’s eyeballs?” Cole hesitated for a second before finishing the rest of his sentence, like it was painful to get the words out. “Or Trevor’s.”

Stella stared at him with unwavering eyes. “Because it wants us to do it.”

“Why? Why would someone want us to do this?”

Stella didn’t answer, and Cole could see that she wasn’t going to answer. She was guarding some of the information, Cole could see that now. And in a way, he couldn’t blame her. But he didn’t think she was hiding things because she was a part of what was going on out there, more like she knew who was out there and she was strategizing to save David and herself.

Cole sighed. Eyeballs. They couldn’t just take someone’s eyeballs, could they? And whose eyeballs? Cole wasn’t going to volunteer. Neither was Jose. Cole would not allow them to take Stella or David’s eyes. That only left one possibility.

Cole glanced at Needles.

For a moment he thought about Tom Gordon in the freezer – they could take his eyeballs. But his eyes were already gone. Like this thing was one step ahead of them, like it had taken Tom Gordon’s eyeballs so they couldn’t use them now.

They all heard a sound on the front porch.

All of them stared at the front door.

Outside, on the front porch, there were heavy footsteps walking across the wooden porch to the front door.

The footsteps stopped.

Three loud knocks on the front door.

Cole glanced at Stella. “Who is it?” he whispered.

Stella shook her head no, indicating that she didn’t know who it was.

“Frank?” Cole whispered.

This time Stella shook her head no – her eyes said that it wasn’t Frank.

Jose set the bottle of whiskey down on the edge of the counter; he almost let it tip over and fall to the floor, but he slid it back slowly from the edge so it wouldn’t fall, he did all of this without looking at the bottle, still staring at the front door the whole time. Jose didn’t go for his gun. He didn’t move towards the door either. He was frozen with fear; he just stared at the front door with wide eyes.

Needles squirmed against the wall, trying to squirm his way closer to the recliner, he was almost behind the recliner now, trying to hide behind it, but he still peeked at the door from behind the piece of furniture. He was whimpering.

Three more knocks at the door. The door seemed to shake in its frame from the knocks.

“You have to untie me, Cole,” Needles hissed. “You can’t leave me like this.”

Cole ignored Needles; he took a step towards the door and pulled his gun out from the waistband of his pants.

“Cole, please …” Needles begged, beginning to cry.

The door handle rattled like whoever was on the other side was trying to turn the locked handle, trying to get in.

Cole took another step towards the door, his gun ready. He was close to the door now, about to reach out and open the door. The jiggling of the door handle stopped – only silence from the other side of the door for a moment.

“Cole, wait,” Jose said with a tremor running through his voice. Jose still hadn’t moved from his spot by the kitchen counter.

Then Cole heard the person speak from behind the door. “Cole,” the person said. The voice was deep and guttural, yet Cole still recognized the voice, it was the voice of his little brother – Trevor’s voice.

Trevor was out there. But that couldn’t be. Trevor was dead, he’d seen it, he’d seen the pieces of his body, his decapitated head sitting in the middle of the porch like a trophy.

“Help me, Cole,” Trevor whispered from the other side of the door.

Maybe he hadn’t really seen the pieces of Trevor’s body, his mind whispered. Maybe it hadn’t been real. Maybe all of this is some kind of nightmare that he can’t wake up from.

Cole rushed to the door and unlocked the deadbolt and then he unlocked the door handle. He grabbed the door handle which wasn’t rattling anymore, like the person (Trevor) on the other side, was waiting for him to open it, waiting for Cole to invite him in.

“Cole …” Stella whispered.

But Cole didn’t hear her.

Cole opened the door and screamed without realizing it when he saw what stood on the front porch.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Trevor stood on the front porch; the pieces of his body had been put back together, the pieces stacked back up into what resembled a human body again, but the pieces were not fitting back together too well, the pieces didn’t quite line up with each other anymore. In the deep lines where the pieces met each other, tatters of bloody clothing hung in ragged strips.

Trevor’s head sat on his neck at a strange, cocked angle, a little like Frank’s head. His face was slack, his eyes glassy, his skin pale. His yawning mouth moved, and his muscles creaked as he tried to work his mouth closed and then open again, trying to speak, trying to utter out words through vocal chords that must have been severed.

“Give him what he wants, Cole,” the monstrosity that used to be Cole’s brother grunted out.

Cole had screamed when he’d first seen this thing that used to be his brother. But now he stood only a few feet away from this impossibility and he couldn’t move for a moment, frozen with fear, with awe, with confusion. His mind reeled and everything faded away around him for a moment. He had been aware for a few seconds that Needles was screaming from behind him somewhere. And Jose was shouting something at him, maybe to shut the door or shoot, Cole wasn’t sure what he said because everything was fading away into darkness all around him.