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think I would like that. I mean, to know that no matter what you do, how hard you try to find someone, you can’t,” Patty said.
    “You never get used to it,” Quentin said, looking away. The waitress came and poured him another cup of coffee and told Quentin she’d voted for him. She said that he was doing a good job.
    Quentin’s family went back to the Gold Rush. Because of that, people in Placer County viewed him differently from almost any other politician. People in Placer County didn’t think of Quentin as a politician; they thought of him as Sheriff Collier. People said Quentin Collier was a throwback to another, better time—before CNN, Fox News and cell phones. He was honest.
    “How come you aren’t married?” Quentin said when the waitress left. He wanted to change the subject. The loss of the little girl had hurt him. He couldn’t talk about it. All the time he’d been searching the loss of his wife, her death, had been very fresh; in a way, he had been searching for them both. He didn’t want anyone else to go through what he was going through, but they’d failed. They hadn’t found the little girl. He’d had to come back down the mountain and face the girl’s young parents. The moment he looked into the father’s eyes he knew he was looking at himself. That someone was cutting something out of the father while he was still alive. Quentin had stood there and said what he had to say. And then, he’d wished he hadn’t said anything. Words, he knew, only made it worse. His words had stolen all hope, which was the last thing the little girl’s parents had left.
    “I was,” Patty said.
    “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”
    “We found out we didn’t like each other.  In fact, I found out he was a real jerk.” The lights in the restaurant flickered.
    “Trees popping,” Quentin said. “New snow brings down old trees and cuts the power. How would you like to go to the movies tomorrow night? Osage County finally came to Timberline.” Quentin surprised himself with the question. But he had the bit in his mouth. He was determined to reach for Life. The girl was life, if he’d ever seen it. He’d debated which movie she might like and decided against Need For Speed in favor of the popular woman-friendly, Meryl Streep movie.
    “I’d love to,” Patty said. The lights flickered again, then went off completely, leaving the restaurant in semi-darkness. The diners gasped.
    “Maybe that’s the first sign of an alien attack,” Quentin said in the semi-dark. “I don’t think they’ll like Placer County, though. We got more guns here than at the Remington factory.”  He heard her laugh. She still had a girl’s laugh. “I think everyone gets one the day they’re born. Girls and boys,” Quentin said. “The aliens will be shot at by five-year olds.”
    “I don’t get off until six on Saturdays,” she said.
    “We’ll go to the late show. Why don’t you come down to the ranch and you can see the place, have dinner and we’ll go from there. You can meet my two mothers. But they’ll probably demand you have me back by ten o’clock. And they’ll ask you how you drive. Also, they won’t let me go out with anyone who smokes.”
    “Whatever they want,” she said. I’d like to have you in bed by ten o’clock , Patty thought.
    The lights came back on and everyone clapped. He’d taken his first big step back into Life. Quentin Collier’s heart was pounding.
    I might as well be sixteen again. It feels good to be alive , he thought.

            *   *   *

    Chuck Phelps looked behind him at his idling snowmobile. It was snowing harder than what he would have liked. He had a checklist in his gloved hand. Chuck put it down for a moment and looked at his beautiful, albeit small, log cabin. He felt a tremendous sense of pride. It, and he, were ready for Armageddon. He had done everything a man could do to prepare for what he was sure was coming. He looked at the cabin