“Dean? Dean's my protector?" The universe just went to the shithole. -Ren”

“Say "Dean Koontz." Then say it again, without "Dean." You just insulted a bunch of Scottish women.”

“But she's ditched Dean!”

“Ask him about the cemeteries, Dean!”

“Then he told me how Dean had met Camille. Roy Johnson, the poolhall boy, had found her in a bar and took her to a hotel; pride taking over his sense, he invited the whole gang to come up and see her. Everybody sat around talking with Camille. Dean did nothing but look out a window. Then when everybody left, Dean merely looked at Camille, pointed at his wrist, made the sign 'four' (meaning he'd be back at four), and went on. At three the door was locked to Roy Johnson. At four it was open to Dean. I wanted to go right out and see the madman.”

“My eye was caught by movement from behind the automaton. Just a flicker, but my heart clenched with surprise and fear, and I tapped Dean on the arm, pointing. “Something’s over there.”He followed my finger, and we both saw the flicker of red on the unbroken gray brick of the foundry walls.“Son of a bitch,” Dean growled, jamming his hand in his pocket and pulling out his switchblade. “Hey!” he bellowed at the moving shadow. “Hey, you!”“Dean …,” I started, thinking that perhaps shouting at the figure wasn’t the best idea.“I see you!” Dean shouted. “No point in hiding.”“Dean, we don’t know what it is,” I whispered, worried that if he made a move, whoever or whatever lurked beyond the automaton would take it badly. Dean shook his head.“Relax, princess. It’s a kid.” He advanced on the shadow. “Aren’t you?”“Up yours, mister!” the shadow shouted back. I pressed a hand over my mouth, both to stifle a laugh and from relief. To find another person in this wasteland was ten times more unexpected than finding a creature like the nightjars and ghouls that populated Lovecraft’s underground.“Say,” Dean drawled, brows drawing together. “I know you, kid.”“I know your mother!” the kid retorted. “And she has some disappointing things to say about you.”