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people. It was why he was so good at writing about how people dealt with disasters. But Barnes was a tough nut to crack. He answered all of Richardson’s questions, even the personal ones, with plainspoken ease. But even still, Richardson sensed a hard grain of meanness in the man that was like a warning not to get too close.
    “Hang tight,” Barnes said. “I’m gonna swing us around and head north toward downtown. I want to show it to you while it’s still at high tide so you can see the Hand.”
    “What’s the Hand?”
    “That’s what we call the shape made by the floodplain. Due to elevation and runoff and the tides and all that stuff, the outline of the flooded areas changes throughout the day. If you catch it during high tide, the waters look like an outstretched hand about to grab downtown.”
    “You’re joking?” Richardson said.
    “Nope. You’ll see it right away.”
    “How come I’ve never heard that before?”
    Barnes shrugged. “The powers that be don’t like to make a big deal of it. We have a bad enough time with treasure hunters trying to sneak in. I guess they figure it would make our job even harder if we become some kind of tourist attraction.”
    Richardson nodded.
    After a moment, Richardson said, “I was going to ask you about the treasure hunters. What do you think makes people want to risk sneaking in through the quarantine? Is there really that much worth stealing in here?”
    “I guess so. You think about it, really, there’s probably a fortune down there. I mean, all our banks and museums and jewelry stores and all that. Those places weren’t cleaned out before the storms, and as far as I know they weren’t cleaned out afterward. Not with the infected roaming the streets. And with the economy being what it is, can you really blame people for wanting to risk busting the quarantine for some potentially huge profits?”
    “No, I guess not.”
    “Hell, even in good times, just the rumor of treasure is enough for some folks.”
    Richardson looked down again. They were passing over some kind of refinery now, pipes and trucks and mangled debris visible through the water.
    “You’re not thinking of going in with some of the treasure hunters, are you?”
    Richardson smiled sheepishly. He was never very good at concealing what he was thinking.
    “The thought had occurred to me.”
    “Well, don’t think about it too hard,” Barnes said. “I mean, you’re a nice guy and all, but if I see you trying to come through the quarantine wall some night, I’ll shoot you in the head, same as anybody else.”
    He said it breezily enough, but there was still something there that made it pretty plain he wasn’t joking.
    “Point taken,” Richardson said.
    The helicopter’s engine hiccupped and they lost altitude momentarily as Barnes wrestled with the controls.
    Richardson’s stomach went halfway up his throat.
    “What the hell was that?”
    “Nothing to it,” Barnes said. His voice was glassy smooth. “These old Schweizers, they’re finicky.”
    “Are we okay?”
    “Yeah, we’re fine. Don’t worry about it.”
    Richardson looked doubtful. The helicopter ride was scarier than he thought it would be, and it occurred to him that it wouldn’t take more than a strong wind to hurl the thing to the ground.
    “Where’d these bullet holes come from?”
    Barnes glanced at the holes. “The uncles.”
    “They shoot at you?”
    “Sometimes.”
    Richardson groaned. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
    “It’s no big deal,” Barnes said. “Here, look down over there. I want you to see this. Whenever I come through here, I always try find some dolphins.”
    “Dolphins?”
    Barnes pointed through the cockpit bubble to the water below. Richardson leaned over to see. They were flying over what had once been I-45, the street lamps and overhead road signs just poking up through the water. Barnes dropped the altitude even lower and cut their airspeed to a crawl. From a height of