The Swarm
The pig spoke at three in the morning. Frank Callahan knew this because he was awake, lying in the dark of his bedroom with one ear pressed to the wall, listening to the sound that had no business coming from a pig's mouth. "Food," it said. "And money. Bring both." The voice was flat and cold, the way a dead man's voice might sound if dead men could speak through the mouths of livestock. Frank...
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