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side.
    Jonah carefully creeps toward the deer. He reaches out a hand. Closer…
    And then his radio erupts with a burst of static—
    GUNNER
    (on the radio)
    All right, got the shot! Hang tight.
    Jonah quickly silences the radio but the buck takes off, disappearing into the forest.
    ***
    Robert pours himself a hot cup of tea and sits down at the kitchen table. He wears his favorite jogging suit.
    He examines the joint that Samson gave him. His cup of tea steaming quietly on the table. He lights the joint with a match, and inhales, and coughs horrendously.
    Then he relaxes a little and smokes some more. He sits back in his chair, smoking. He rubs his face and loosens up his neck muscles. He takes a sip of tea. And he smiles a funny little smile.
    He examines the black and silver business card which reads
Event Horizon
and a phone number. He goes to the phone and dials the number. It’s a brooding 1970s push-button wall phone.
    ROBERT
    Hello? Yes. I would, uh, I’d like to make a reservation, please. Uh huh. Robert Adams. Yes. Adams. Okay. Uh huh. All right. I see. Okay. Thank you. Goodbye.
    He hangs up the phone and stands there for a second, lost in the face panel of the old phone. He lifts the phone off the receiver just an inch or so, floating it, listening to the dial tone. Then he floats it next to his head, listening to the dial tone arcing invisibly between the handset and his ear.
    He holds his other hand up before the keypad and positions his fingers to dial. He slowly probes in the air with his fingers, searching like a spider for a number to dial.
    But there is no one to call. He hangs up the phone and sits back down next to the kitchen table. He stares at the floor, at an odd angle, nursing a little paranoia, and settles back into the horrifyingly infinite quiet of the kitchen.
    He remembers his tea and takes a sip, but he inadvertently snickers and almost forces tea out his nose. He snickers again, struggling not to spit out his tea when— CHIRBONK.
    Robert hears a sudden sound at the window. He swallows his tea and listens attentively.
    THUNK. FFFFLLLLLLLKUNK.
    He goes to the kitchen window to have a look. BONK! Startled, he recoils as something hits the window. He looks again, cautiously. WHAM. Something is flying into the window
    He goes to another window. SLAM. THUNK.
    Red birds are flying into his windows.
    Robert crosses into the other room. He opens the curtains at the large window. Nothing. Then—
    THUNK UNK UNK UNK UNK UNK UNK UNK…
    The house is under assault. A storm of kamikaze cardinals. Hundreds of red birds hurl themselves into the windows.
    Robert stumbles backward, falls over the couch and hides behind it, covering his head and ears.
    THUNK UNK UNK UNK UNK UNK UNK UNK UNK UNK UNK UNK.
    Then, like a bag of microwave popcorn…
    THUNK.THUNK UNK.THUNK.
    The storm stops.
    Robert opens the front door and cautiously peeks outside. The coast seems to be clear. A dead cardinal is lying on the front steps. Then he sees the rest of them.
    Looking down from above, the house is surrounded by a moat of red. Red birds are piled like roses, circling the house. The house sits inside a ring of red, a square inside a circle.
    ***
    Jonah moves quietly through the trees, deeper into the woods. He counts out paces and finds his next point. He shoves the surveyor’s rod into the ground and jockeys with the radio.
    JONAH
    You got me?
    GUNNER
    (on the radio)
    Hang on. Wave it around a little.
    Jonah waves the surveyor’s rod slowly back and forth.
    GUNNER
    (on the radio)
    All right, got it. Let’s shoot it.
    He holds the rod steady.
    GUNNER
    (on the radio)
    Shooting. All right. Got the shot. Coming to you.
    Jonah releases the rod and waits. He has another look at the forest. Bare branches compose themselves in black fractal patterns against the sky. Roots crawl across the tapestry of earth and fallen leaves. Micro-canyons of bark and crisscrossed timbers. Evergreen needles.
    He