This week’s Quote of the Fortnight is from Stephen King’s masterpiece, The Stand, an 1000 page epic that is about a super-flu that wipes out 99% of the human race and the final battle between good and evil that follows. The evil are led by Randall Flagg, the dark man and antichrist figure, introduced in the following passage:
“Randall Flagg, the dark man, strode south on US 51, listening to the nightsounds that pressed close on both sides of the narrow road that would take him sooner or later out of Idaho and into Nevada. From Nevada he might go anywhere. From New Orleans to Nogales, from Portland, Oregon, to Portland, Maine, it was his country, and none knew or loved it better. He knew where the roads went, and he walked them at night. Now, an hour before dawn, he was somewhere between Grasmere and Riddle, west of Twin Falls, still north of the Duck Valley Reservation that spreads across two states. And wasn’t it fine?
He walked rapidly, rundown bootheels clocking against the paved surface of the road, and if car lights showed on the horizon he faded back and back, down over the soft shoulder to the high grass where the night bugs made their homes… and the car would pass him, the driver perhaps feeling a slight chill as if he had driven through an air pocket, his sleeping wife and children stirring uneasily, as if all had been touched with a bad dream at the same instant.”
-page 180, The Stand, 1978.
Featured Image, Fair Use from Wikimedia Commons.