hummed a tuneless version of “Big Rock Candy Mountain.” Gus just stared straight ahead at the wall. Paul breathed heavy through his nose, and at one point, Greg thought the mountain man had fallen asleep.
Eventually, Greg broke the silence by saying, “I reckon the Mountaineers are going to have a good season this year. Might go all the way.”
He paused, waiting for a response, but Gus, Paul, Axel, Jean and Bobby only stared at him. He couldn’t really see them all that well in the darkness because Paul had made Axel blow out the candles after their arrival. But Greg didn’t need to see them to know that they were staring at him. He could feel their eyes upon him. He cleared his throat, suddenly feeling foolish.
“Well, that’s what I think, at least. They got a fella from New Jersey. A good Christian boy. Come out of the ghetto in Newark and has one hell of an arm on him. Studying to be a horticulturist or some such thing.”
Gus stirred. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Me? I’m just talking college football. What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“How can you be talking sports at a time like this? How in the world would you think that’s appropriate, Greg?”
Greg shrugged and propped his feet up on the kerosene heater. Axel had told them that the unit wasn’t working, so Greg wasn’t worried about burning his shoes.
“I don’t know,” he said. “It was just so quiet. We’re all sitting here and ain’t none of us talking. I just thought some conversation might lift our spirits.”
“He’s right,” Paul murmured.
“You want to talk sports?” Gus sounded incredulous.
“No, I don’t mean that. I couldn’t care less about football right now. But Greg is right about it being quiet. There hasn’t been a sound from outside in quite a while.”
“Do you think it’s over with?” Jean asked. “Could they be gone?”
“Maybe,” Gus said, “but I ain’t sticking my head out there to see.”
“One of us should,” Axel replied. “It doesn’t make much sense for us to be sitting down here freezing our butts off in the dark if the danger is over with. At the very least, we’ve got to alert the authorities like you boys had originally planned.”
“Still do plan on it,” Paul said. “Soon as we get out of here.”
“You didn’t seem in a hurry to leave,” Greg pointed out.
“Neither did you,” Paul snapped. “And besides, I figured we could use a rest.”
“Well . . .” Greg sighed. “We got one. And our situation ain’t changed none while we were sitting here on our asses. I reckon Axel is right. We should go check.”
“You go right ahead,” Gus said. “I’m staying down here.”
Paul stood up. “We’ll all go. That’s the safest way.” Jean hugged her son tighter. “Bobby’s not going anywhere until we know for sure it’s safe.”
The men glanced down at her and then back to Paul.
“She’s right,” Greg said. “Don’t seem right to send the boy outside with us.”
“No,” Paul agreed. “I don’t guess it does. Jean and Bobby, you stay here. We’ll let you know if the coast is clear.”
Gus and Greg got to their feet. Groaning, Axel did the same. He put his hands on his hips and arched his back. His joints popped loudly.
“Damn arthritis,” he muttered. “Sitting around in this damp basement hasn’t improved it at all.”
Bobby reached for Axel. “Mr. Perry, I don’t want you to go. I want you to stay here with me and Mommy.”
Greg noticed the emotion on the old man’s face as he turned to look at the boy. Axel looked happy and sad all at the same time. He shuffled over to where Jean and Bobby sat and handed the boy his gnarled old walking stick.
“Here.” Axel handed the boy the cane. “You take this. You remember what I told you about it, right?”
Bobby nodded emphatically. “Yes, sir. You said it was magic because it came from Mrs. Chickenbaum.”
Axel laughed. “That’s right. Mrs. Chickbaum. Now, we’ll only be gone for a minute. We’re just gonna creep upstairs and have a look-see—make sure all of the bad men are gone. While we do that, you just hold onto this old stick. It will keep you and your mother safe. Okay? Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good boy.” Axel patted his shoulder and then turned toward them. “All right, let’s go see what’s what.”
The four of them hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, each one waiting for someone else to go first.
“Age before beauty,” Greg said to Axel and Paul as he made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “You two were the ones who wanted to go.”
Grumbling to himself, Paul started slowly up the stairs. Gus followed him. Greg and Axel stared at each other.
“Go ahead,” Axel said. “I insist. I’m old and I’ll only slow you down.”
Greg followed along behind his brother. He heard Axel creeping along behind him. The wooden stairs creaked beneath their feet and the handrail shook slightly. Greg worried that the stairs might collapse under their combined weight. After all, the house was nearly as old as Axel was. There was no telling how much damage time and insects had done over the years. That would be a hell of a way to go— surviving the massacre outside only to break their backs in Axel Perry’s basement.
When they reached the top, Paul opened the door. They turned around and glanced back down the stairs. Jean and Bobby stood at the bottom, staring up at them from the darkness. Greg raised his hand and waved.
“You guys be careful,” Jean called. “And please hurry back?”
“We will,” Axel said. “And Bobby, you just hold on to that walking stick. Okay?”
“Okay, Mr. Perry.”
“We’ll be right back. I promise.”
As they crept through Axel’s house, Greg turned to the old man.
“You shouldn’t tell the boy that old stick is magic.”
“Why not? It makes him feel better—safer. Where’s the harm in that?”
Greg shrugged. “I guess.”
“And besides,” Axel continued, “how do you know it’s not magic?”
Greg shook his head. “Crazy old man.”
“I’m not the one who thinks the NOW controls the world.”
“It’s NWO, not NOW. How many times do I have to tell you people that before you’ll listen?”
Paul and Gus crossed to the windows and peeked outside.
“See anything?” Greg asked.
“Nothing,” Paul said. “Even the bodies are gone now. It’s like nothing happened.”
“Well, that’s the worst part, isn’t it?” Gus turned away from the window. “Not really knowing what’s happening? I mean, if this was a tornado or a blizzard or a flood, we’d know what to do. We’d know how to protect ourselves. But after everything that’s happened tonight, we still don’t have the faintest fucking clue what we’re dealing with here.”
Greg walked to the front room. The others followed him. When he began unlocking the front door, his brother stopped him.
“You sure about this?”
“Sure I’m sure,” Greg replied. “You and Paul looked through the windows and didn’t see anything, and it’s quiet now. I reckon that whatever happened, the worst is over now.”
The locks clicked open. Greg turned the doorknob and opened the door—
—and something tall and black and foul-smelling grabbed his face and yanked him outside. Smothered, Greg was unable to scream.
The others did it for him.
***
“So,” Donny asked as they walked along, “if you’re not Amish anymore, then what’s up with the clothes and the beard and the hat? Couldn’t you dress a little more . . . I don’t know, modern? Stylish?”
Levi sighed and tried to conceal his annoyance. He’d been asked questions like this hundreds of times, and
