The cover for Robert McCammons new bookThe Listeneris subtle, but the words within carry the force.
Thats part of what the story is about, after all.
The new book from the author of such horror novels asBoys LifeandSwan Songcomes out onFeb.
Credit: Cemetery Dance Pubns
27 from Cemetery Dance Publications, and as part of the cover reveal EW presents an exclusive new excerpt.
He may be the only one who can stop them.
Heres the jacket copy, followed by an excerpt fromThe Listener.
Warning: It gets dark fast.
Businesses went under by the hundreds, debt and foreclosures boomed, and breadlines grew in many American cities.
In the midst of this misery, some folks explored unscrupulous ways to make money.
Angel-faced John Partlow and carnival huckster Ginger LaFrance are among the worst of this lot.
Joining together they leave their small time confidence scams behind to attempt an elaborate kidnapping-for-ransom scheme.
The Devil can be a man or a woman.
Which, today, the Devil was.
The man behind the sedans wheel looked to be someones angel.
He had curly blonde hair, cut short, and eyes the color of summer smoke.
His thin black tie was held in place by a silver clip of two hands clasped in prayer.
His hands upon the wheel were soft.
Trouble was, hed never seen a time that wasnt tough.
He guided his tired car along a rutted and dusty backroad that cut through spiny pinewoods.
He had not far to go to this one, but many miles to cover today.
His shirt was damp with sweat.
The air that blew into the car seemed to steal the breath, and smelled faintly of rotten peaches.
Whatever it was, it belonged to the past.
He was a man of the future, which was becoming the present second-by-second.
It was the first week of July in the year 1934.
Businesses went under by the hundreds, as the flow of cash had stopped at the shuttered tellers cages.
Debt and foreclosures boomed.
Breadlines grew in once-dynamic American cities.
It was a time of misery from which there seemed no end nor respite.
Hed had a good day yesterday and made
nearly thirty dollars.
Hed enjoyed a steak and fries last night at a cafe in Houston.
The man who looked like someones angel didnt care if they ever found out whod killed the baby.
Such things happened, it was the way of the world.
These were desperate times and people did desperate things.
The cars tires jubbled over railroad tracks.
He passed a road sign pocked with rust-edged bullet holes.
FREEHOLD, he noted the sign said.
He drove on from blinding sun into pine shadow and back again.
Well, there was always John Dillinger to follow.
His shootouts were always arousing news.
He was approaching a little forlorn-looking Texaco gasoline station coming up on the right.
He pulled his car up beside the Ethyl pump and waited with the engine running.
Need to cut your motor, sir.
How much you need?
the young man asked through the toothpick in his mouth.
He added, We just got some of that new Fire Chief gas in.
No gas, said the driver in a soft, quiet voice.
It was a voice carrying a nearly-musical
Southern accent that had been called bothrefinedandaristocratic.
I am needin some information.
Do you know how I can get to the Edson place?
That would be it.
And for your trouble.
The man brought a shiny nickle from his trouser pocket and placed it into the oily palm.
Much thanks, the young man answered.
If you got business with Mr. Edson, I have to tell you he passed away last week.
Buried him on Thursday.
His heart give out.
Now it was the drivers turn to frown.
I am sorry to hear that.
Still…I do have business at the Edson house, and possibly I can be of a comfort.
Good day to you.
He gave the young man a nod, put the car into gear and started off again.
Freehold was a dusty town with several shuttered storefronts.
He passed a farmer driving a watermelon wagon on Front Street.
He turned right on State Road Sixty and picked up some speed after hed left the town limits.
The mile and a quarter passed.
He saw the Edson mailbox on the left.
He pulled off onto a dirt road that threw whorls of dust up behind his tires.
Pine trees and underbrush grew on either side of the road.
He smoothed his tie and adjusted his collar so that the coat hung as perfectly as he could manage.
The screened front door groaned open.
Mornin, said the woman.
She sounded both weary and wary.
Yes maam, I believe so.
This is the Edson residence, if I am correct?
He was already walking around to the other side of the car.
Dust from the road drifted in the air and sparkled golden in the sunlight.
I have somethin here for you and the children, he said.
Somethin for you and the children, he repeated.
The wordsHoly Biblewere tooled across its front in gold-colored ink.
I learned at the gas station in town that your husband has only recently passed away.
Buried Toby last Thursday, she said.
She was blonde-haired, had a pale long-jawed face, a sharp nose and eyes that looked drowned.
she asked, ready for the stranger to clear out.
He paused for a few seconds before he answered.
They both stared at him as if hed just dropped down from another planet.
May I approach you, maam?
What do you have there?
Ive paid what I needed to pay this month, Im all square with the bank.
And you are square with Jesus and the Holy Father, too.
He lifted the Bible in its white presentation box and waited for her to motion him forward.
Go on and take em.
Ma, we just brought em the little boy started, but the woman shushed him.
The man smiled politely, waiting for this small family drama to pass.
Newborns, said the man, maintaining his soft smile.
We got six of em.
Jess held his up closer for the man to see.
Go on, do like I told you.
The boy started off, though reluctantly.
Jody said, Jess, take Dolly with you too.
You have somethin for us?
Most certainly I do.
First, maam, let me show you my business card.
Says his name is John Partner, mama, said Jody after looking it over.
Says hes the president of the Holy Partner Bible Company in Houston.
John Partner retrieved the card and put it away.
He thoughtthe woman cannot readand she depends on the child.Well, that is interesting.
I have the Golden Edition Bible your husband ordered last month.
You werent aware of this?
you better speak plain English, Mr.
Partner, said the woman, near exasperation.
Im awful wrung out right now.
He sent one dollar pre-payment, as I specified.
The inscription was done, as he asked, and I responded that I would personally deliver the item.
I…suppose he didnt tell you any of this?
A Golden Edition Bible, she said.
Her eyes had reddened.
No, he didnt say a thing.
You mean…he sent you a wholedollar?
Or possibly…he had a premonition that his time was short.
It is the voice of
God speakin to them.
Or at least that is whatIbelieve.
But it all comes down to love, Mrs. Edson.
Would you like to see the inscription he asked me to make?
I dont read so well, sir.
Would you read it for me?
He offered her the bit of paper.
This is the receipt, one dollar paid by Toby Edson of Freehold, Texas.
Im just…Im not knowin what to say, the woman told him.
The way she said that, it sounded like five hundred.
Six dollars is our rate for the Golden Edition.
You understand, maam, it is a family keepsake meant to last for generations.
On the receipt, it says five dollars due.
Oh…yes sir, but…thats a terrible lot of money.
said the little girl.
Can I see the inscription?
Bear in mind, it is not in your fathers handwriting.
He gave her the Bible and turned his focus again on the distraught woman.
Now, Mrs. Edson, do not fret, he said gently.
Therearecosts to consider, though.
It is the penalty for living in Caesars world.
John Partner stopped speaking, but his mouth remained open.
Dont be rude to
The words written here, the child went on.
Theyre what he said they were, but…Mama..its got my name spelled wrong.
A piece of hard rock seemed caught for a few seconds in John Partners throat.
When he got his voice out, it sounded thin and shrill in the quiet.
Somewhere out over the pasture, a crow cawed and another answered from the trees at
John Partners back.
Her nameisspelled J-o-d-i, said Edith Edson.
Surely Toby couldnt have told you any different.
It took only three seconds for him to regain his composure.
My names spelled wrong, said the girl, and she showed him.
Right there it is.
Her index finger pointed to the offending y.
Four dollars, Mrs. Edson said, is still an awful lot of money, sir.
How are we gonna correct this?
Let that be the end of it.
Daddy would likely think it was funny.
I can see him laughin about it right now.
The woman nodded, and maybe a small shadow of a smile slipped across her mouth.
Does that suit you?
When John Partner didnt immediately respond, she went one step further.
Dont think you’re free to sell this one to anybody else, can you?
His face felt paralyzed.
The engine started with a bone-shaking rattle and a harsh bark.
He drove away, leaving in his wake roiling clouds of dust.
He stopped alongside someones muddy lake near noon, ate some crackers and drank a Nehi orange soda.
It had long been his feeling that people had no idea how hard he worked for his dollars.
As hard as any ditch-digger, it seemed to him.
He thought that he was selling a valuable commodity, and people didnt realize it.
He was selling a lasting memory.
A dream, of sorts.
He was selling golden thread to tie up all the loose ends of a life.
He was doing society and the grieving families a good service.
Dont give this man no money.
It just didnt sit right with him.
It gnawed at his guts and made the crackers and Nehi orange soda boil in his belly.
After that he felt cooler and calmer and he knew what he had to do.
Then he rolled on into Wharton and in the five-and-dime there bought a baseball bat sized for a child.
Then he paid his bill and left.
The injustice of it made him want to cry.
But his face bore no expression but resolve, and his eyes remained as dry as prairie rock.
The next house was probably a quarter of a mile west.
He took the child-sized baseball bat and his can full of gasoline and started walking.
There were a few lights on in the Edson house.
Lantern lights, they looked to be, and burning low.
John Partner went to the barn.
The door was already open a crack, so much the better.
When he stepped inside he flicked his lighter.
Before the dog could let loose a bark, John Partner clubbed her in the head with the bat.
He hit her a second blow, all his strength behind it, just to double-check.
Then he surveyed what he had done and went on to finish the rest of it.
He covered the puppies with handfuls of straw.
He poured the gasoline.
In the red glare of the flame, John Partner no longer resembled someones angel.
He picked up a final handful of straw and touched it with fire.
J-o-d-i, he said quietly.
His eyes were dead.
He dropped the burning straw upon the gas-soaked puppies on their gas-soaked blanket beside the body of their mother.
But he left the baseball bat.
Jess might get some use from it.
