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I’d never managed myself.
    I kept the jar out of sight as the farmhouse neared, then I veered right to the barn and my old Chevy Blazer. I placed the moonshine in the passenger seat next to Bessie and eased away. If Edith Devereaux saw me, she’s never said.
    The road turned from dirt to pavement a few miles ahead. An early warm spell had convinced me to remove the top over the back end of the truck. I settled into the seat and hoped the combination of sun and wind would keep me awake. Thoughts of Jenny and Bobby melted into a buzzing nothingness. The hum of the tires was steady, womb-like. My eyes fluttered. I opened them wide. They fluttered again. My body sank deeper into the seat. I knew what was happening, which was bad enough, and I knew there was nothing I could do about it, which was worse. People say it’s the mind that rules the body. I’m here to say sometimes that’s not true at all. My mind knew I was going asleep at forty miles an hour just as much as it knew something worse than running off the road would happen if I did. But my eyes didn’t care, and closed they went. They would’ve stayed that way had the Blazer not fallen out of the mountain’s shadow just then, signaling my return to the civilized world of cell towers and wireless calls. The phone lying on the console erupted into a fit of beeps and chirps that made me gasp and bolt forward. I righted the truck before it drifted off the road and stuck the phone to my ear.
    “This is Jake.”
    “Hey, Daddy,” Zach said. “Where you been?”
    I swallowed hard and tried to find my breath. White pinpricks gathered into globs of gray in front of my eyes. I coughed into my hand.
    “Had to run an errand,” I said. “What’s your momma doing?”
    “She went out to the Texaco for a name. She tried callin’ you, but you dint answer.”
    “She didn’t leave you there alone, did she?” I asked.
    “Nosir, Doc March’s here. We’re playin’ checkers. Momma called him to come look at my eye. Doc says it’s a beaut.”
    The road ahead curved to the right. Beyond that stood Andy Sommerville’s BP. That’s where I’d stop. Gather myself. Get some coffee. Andy was always good company, and if worst came to worst, he’d give me a ride back to the office. I’d just say the Blazer was acting up.
    “You comin’ in now, Daddy? Can I throw Bessie some when you get here?”
    My words came out thick and drawn: “Gonna stop at the BP first. You and Doc been manning the phones for me?”
    “Yessir,” he said. “Ain’t nobody called but Mr. Justus.”
    My heartbeat went from barely to thundering, making that spot hurt in my chest. I squeezed the steering wheel. “You know better than to talk to him, Zach.”
    “I dint know it was him until he talked, Daddy. It ain’t my fault.”
    No, I thought. It wasn’t his fault. Not at all. If it was anyone’s, it was my wife’s.
    I asked, “What’d Mr. Justus want?”
    “He ast if you were gonna arrest him today. You gonna haul’m in, Daddy?”
    I forgot about sleep. Not even Phillip entered my thoughts. There was only room in my mind for Justus. Justus, and the fact he’d spoken to Zach instead of Kate.
    “Don’t think I will today,” I said. “Phone rings again, you let Doc answer. I’ll be there soon.”
    I hung up. Andy Sommerville was working a broom around the pumps when I passed. He waved. I didn’t wave back. Suchthings happen, I guess. We get too caught up in our own lives and forget how to be good neighbors. But I’ll say this: when the town came under siege and the world unraveled in the days that followed, I’d point to that moment as yet another failing in my life—I didn’t wave to Andy.

6
    The table wasn’t much, just an empty spool of electrical wire that served as Taylor’s eating place, desk, and workbench. Charlie returned in short order carrying the groceries and a smile of relief. He sat and placed a beer and a Twinkie in front of himself, consuming both as though