Mr Gray is in his head, and when he wants something, I think he just takes it. Please stop, Mr Gray said inside Jonesy's head. Christ, it seemed like Jonesy had been gone a long time. 'Jonesy's lucky to be alive.
' The Scout — no spring chicken itself, fourteen years old and far into its second trip around the odometer popped out of the ruts and immediately skidded, four-wheel drive or not. It filled his head and he began to cry it aloud, masking the sound of the thing on the roof as it slithered quickly down the slope of the tin. Right down your everloving neck, God rot your blue eyes. No sign of him at all.
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