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    Jordan awoke to the sound of voices downstairs. He thought he’d heard laughter, too, but he must have been dreaming. He’d had many dreams throughout the night. In one of the scariest, he and Abby had been on the ferry, the only passengers, the captain and crew not on board for some reason. When thick fog rolled in, he and his sister argued and argued what to do.
    Jordan sat up in bed. It surprised him to see Kevin fast asleep on the floor, laundry serving as his mattress.
    Jordan tiptoed into the hall and gravitated to his parents’ bedroom where he quietly dwelled on the memories preserved in family photos on his mother’s bureau. In his favorite picture, Mom and Dad were smiling and holding Touk. Hiccupping, he plodded to the window for fresh air. He remembered there was no fresh air. Purple poison was everywhere.
    He looked out the window and kept his eyes lifted on purpose, not ready to see his father’s body. Crazier than any dream, the sun was radiating like an eggplant and a bank of purple clouds was forming to the south.
    He slowly lowered his eyes. He had to try. “No!” he screamed. Two dogs were dragging his father across the backyard. One had clamped onto Dad’s shirt, the other one had him by his pants’ leg.
    Jordan charged out of the room and raced through the hall and flew down the stairs three at a time. He landed awkwardly at the bottom and twisted his right ankle. He ignored the sharp pain that shot up his leg and grabbed a fireplace poker. He ran past Abby, Emily, and Toucan who were all in the kitchen and then into the breezeway.
    He flung open the back door, but stopped abruptly on the porch, confused what he should do next. Those weren’t dogs. They were coyotes, a pack of six. The two dragging his father paused as they sized him up. Four other coyotes stood further back in a semi-circle. They had long spindly legs, lean, narrow bodies, mangy fur, and menacing yellow eyes.
    Coyotes avoid people, he told himself. He’d once seen a pack from a distance, in a field on the east side of the island. They’d scurried into the woods when they had seen him.
    “Get out!” he shouted, waving the fire poker wildly.
    The coyotes flinched, but held their ground. Was the space dust making them fearless, or crazy, as if they were rabid?
    He heard the door open. Abby shrieked.
    “Jordan, come inside,” she shouted. “Now!”
    He stomped his feet and smashed the poker on the railing. It didn’t work. The two coyotes resumed dragging Dad across the sandy soil. He was their prey. They were going to eat him.
    Abby yanked his arm, but he shook off her hand.
    “Emily, take Toucan upstairs,” Abby said. “Keep her away from the window. Jordan, listen to me!”
    “We’re safe up here,” Jordan said, not really believing that.
    The door opened again. “Wolves,” Kevin cried.
    “They’re coyotes,” Jordan said. The hose lay coiled next to the steps, and he had an idea. “Turn on the water. You can do it from the porch.” He raised the poker in case they charged. Blood pounded in his ears.
    “No,” Abby said.
    “Hurry up! Kevin, you do it!”
    Kevin obeyed. He reached between the railing spindles and spun the spigot handle. The ears of the coyotes stood erect and their noses quivered.
    Tears welled in Jordan’s eyes, and his legs felt like mush. With every passing second his will to take action weakened. It was now or never.
    Flushed with rage, he charged down the steps and swung the poker. The coyotes locked their eyes onto him, bared their teeth, and growled viciously in a terrifying chorus. He flung the metal rod at them. They backed up a step, but just as quickly advanced two more. He picked up the nozzle and took aim. The stream startled them. He drilled the closest ones with a jet of water.
    He took a giant step forward, shooting the water high to reach all of them. A few sprinkles of water accomplished what foot stamping and shouting and poker waving had failed to do. It frightened