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Chapter 43. The Farm, Part II
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... apart like paper soaked in blood.
A scream, high and thin—Ulesse, I think. A roar—Farmer Baptiste. Then a SCREEEEEEE that makes every hair on my body stand up and try to escape. It’s an inhuman, hellish sound.
BANG!
The thunder of Farmer Baptiste’s blunderbuss cracks through the still night like God smiting a microwave.
I’m on my feet before I even think. Muscles fueled by adrenaline. Clyde’s already up, pistol in hand in a flash of light. Veronica groans and roll ...
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