New image, old enemy . The deacon crept up to the door, stepped over the threshold and disappeared. Minutes went by. With Rose moaning and writhing in pain, minutes seemed like hours, a leather strap in her mouth, did not lessen the pain and suffering in her cries. Then the door opened, and Deacon walked in, leading barefoot, a man, with a bare torso and blue jeans. The deacon held his hands behind his back, but the man did not say a word. The reason was obvious he did not have a mouth, only smooth skin in its place. I had never seen this man before, but I immediately recognized him, and not only because Deacon was holding him with such fury. Six black dots formed lines on both sides of his face, three were imprinted near his nose, and three curled around each eye. I knew those marks, I saw them before, when those dots seemed to float off his skin, when life was leaving me. Lucas Johnson has found a new body.