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Chapter Twenty-Seven
Matthew slid through the broken doors into the hotel lobby. He mopped the sweat from his forehead with his coat sleeve, and wrinkled up his nose at the overwhelming smell of piss from the lobby. It was too hot for a coat, but Matthew wore it anyway. The area was deserted this time. Many of the transients that had shacked up in the hotel had died with that coughing disease. Hamil had dumped the bodies out back in the swamp. The stench of rotting flesh would blow back into the building any time a southern wind came up. Matthew had somehow managed to avoid catching the plague. Maybe he never got exposed, or maybe he was one of the few that seemed to be immune. Hamil too remained his usual slimey self, even as others were dying around him. Dying or turning into red-eyed albinos. Matthew sh
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