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Page 198
"It is pointless, Ruthie," the voice intoned malevolently. There was a terrifying assuredness in his words.
"Run, dammit!" Freeman screamed. He lunged forward, arching the heavy metal flashlight down in a savage blow that smashed into Bartholomew's heavily bandaged head. The thing screamed as Freeman repeated the violent act again and again in a frenzied, desperate effort to still the awful voice.
Linda raced for the door.
Freeman felt the assaulted tissue and bone turn to a pulpy mass under his onslaught. Blood began seeping through the bandages and cascading down the deputy's twisted, hate-filled face. Within seconds they were both covered with the gory evidence of his furious attack.
Even then the voice managed to drone on. "It is . . . it is . . . it is . . . pointless . . . pointless . . . " Then the horrifying sound of the words began to trail off.
Freeman dropped the makeshift bludgeon and staggered backward, clawing at his aching chest. A stabbing pain ripped through his body, slamming into his brain, seering down again into his chest. His hands went numb; his throat constricted. His world was spinning, and he suddenly felt panic. The pain ripped through him again, and he clutched his ex-

 
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