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through the scope at the sky.
    If this gun was anything like the others Tom had seen, it was too powerful to shoot like a normal hunting rifle, a .30-06, say.The manufacturer provided a bipod at the base of the barrel, designed to stabilize the heavy weapon and minimize its recoil. He wondered how experienced this boy was with it. He hoped not to find out.
    Showing a toothy grin, Bad was appraising a weapon even more exotic. It looked like something from a space movie: a plank of rectangular metal with a grip and trigger extending from the center of one of the narrow sides; on the other side, opposite the trigger, was a handle that appeared to contain a built-in scope. Bad looked up. He saw the group of townies and stiffened. He pulled the weapon in close to his chest and turned his torso so one end of the gun pointed at them.
    Declan waved his pistol at the kids and adults, as if in greeting. When they stopped, Tom said, “You better come on over. Do what they say.”
    â€œWhat have you done to Tom?” one of them yelled.
    Declan sauntered to the woman, who took a step back. He leaned his shoulder against hers, whispered in her ear. Her eyes widened and her skin paled noticeably in the brightening morning light. Declan kissed the air between them, then took in each face, one at a time, making sure they understood his intentions. He ordered the group to the community center. He watched them go, one hip cocked, apparently feeling pretty good about himself.
    The girl approached him, affecting the same sauntering gait, and she put her arm around his waist. They kissed. When their faces parted, she melted into him, notching herself into the shape of his side.
    â€œA place like this, you guys must play a lot of video games,” Declan told Tom.
    â€œWe find better things to do. Lots of outdoor things.”
    Declan looked surprised. “Like what?”
    â€œFamily outings . . . touch football, picnics, hide-and-seek. Hiking, camping, boating, off-roading, bird watching, fishing, hunting . . .”
    â€œI like hunting,” Declan said.
    Tom studied his face. “Animals,” he clarified.
    The younger man nodded.
    â€œRabbit, coyote, sheep, caribou.”
    Declan gazed south down Provincial, seeming to cast his vision beyond Dirty Woman Park, over the wide span of water, to the rolling green and gold hills on the far side.
    â€œYeah,” he said. “That’s something I could do.What do you think? Wanna try that, Cort?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œLater,” he said. “After we take care of other business.”
    The way Declan looked at him made Tom’s guts feel like soup.

6
    The pilot brought the JetRanger down in a meadow of tall green and yellow turf. Hutch watched the grass sway in the propeller’s downdraft like the hair of a girl swimming in a strong current. The way it strained away from the helicopter in a large, vibrating circle, he could imagine it trying to flee from the bellowing contraption invading its peace. In the distance a rabbit bounced up and disappeared into the woods.
    The pilot—named Franklin, Hutch remembered—switched off the engine and inverted various other toggles on the center console. The roar and bluster they had grown accustomed to diminished like a dragon’s dying breath.
    Hutch patted Franklin’s shoulder and gave him a thumbs-up.The man returned the gesture.
    â€œYeah, baby!”Terry said in a passable imitation of Austin Powers.
    David opened a rear door. Cool wind blew in, bringing with it swirling bits of grass, leaves, granules of dirt—and something else, a fragrance. Musky and floral and clean, Hutch didn’t know if it was earth or trees or water or animals or more likely a sort of aura derived from all of them over eons, but he did know it was wonderful. It smelled like freedom, the way the world must have smelled when it was new. All of them sensed it. They were taking in lungfuls through their