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please. What’s happening to me?”
    She said nothing and instead beckoned him over to the door and pushed it open. The path was waiting for him.
    â€œTell me your name, at least,” he begged her.
    â€œIt’s Mrs. Blackwell.”
    â€œWhere is Mr. Blackwell?”
    â€œGone,” she said, looking darkly out to the road. “He left the path.” That was all she would say.
    â€œThat’s pretty messed up.”
    â€œNever leave the path,” she told him.
    â€œI’ve been told that before.”
    â€œYou were told correctly.”
    â€œWho are you, really? Do I know you?”
    She said nothing. He stepped out the door and through the garden, back out onto the leafy path, and watched Mrs. Blackwell close the door behind her.

CHAPTER SIX
THE YELLOW LIGHT
    N ight fell and the cold was inside Ben again. It was making his fingertips buzz. He felt like he could transmit it to others now. He hugged himself and shivered as he trudged down the path, which never seemed to turn or bend. Just a straight shot into nothing. The path was a hole, and the farther he walked, the farther he was falling, making it impossible to ever climb out. He tried to warm up by thinking about Teresa and the children, but all of that was rendered bittersweet by his tryst with Annie, which he knew he would never be able to explain in a believable manner.
    The dogfaces were gone, but he still felt the menace on him, like a lingering scent. Menace was underrated. When he was on a business trip once, another traveler accosted him in an airport. Accused Ben of cutting in front of him in line, which was a lie. They nearly came to blows before Ben backed down.
    When he boarded the plane, the man was sitting directly across the aisle from him. Stared at Ben the whole flight. Leered at him, like he was an appetizer. He felt menaced for four hours. When the plane landed, the man followed right behind Ben up the Jetway, through theterminal, and all the way to the parking garage. It was 1 A.M. At 1 A.M. a parking garage feels like a crime scene in waiting. Ben walked briskly to his car and the man stayed behind him in his tight black shirt and angry glasses. They were alone now, and Ben couldn’t take it any longer.
    â€œWhat the fuck do you want from me?”
    The man popped Ben in the face with a sharp right jab. His scar split open.
    â€œRemember that,” the man said, and he walked away. Just that one punch was all the man needed to put the menace inside Ben and leave it there. Anytime he parked his car after that, and anytime he went to an airport, he could feel it. Menace could do that to you. Menace could own you.
    The sun set behind the trees and the cold took over his mind, holding it hostage, wiping out all thoughts of tent sex and the old lady’s horrid garden.
God, it’s cold. Where is the town? Where is the fucking town?
    To the right, off in the distance, he spotted a soft light in the air. It was yellow and artificial, like a parking lot light. It looked like modern civilization, not whatever Mennonite wizard land he had apparently stumbled upon. He picked up his pace, pumping his arms to keep warm, hoping the path would bring him to the light.
    But the stupid path just kept going straight, and he could see the light pulling up alongside him and then falling behind, like the moon when you’re driving at night. Ahead, there was only darkness.
    Never leave the path.
That was what the note said. That was what Mrs. Blackwell also said. That was the warning. But here, in this yellow light, was a point he could aim for. It killed him to just let it go.
Why would you listen to that old lady? She was talking to you about magic seeds, for shit’s sake. That town she was going on about probably doesn’t even exist.
The light was all he had. He stepped off the path andbegan walking to it, taking out one of the loaves of bread and breaking it into big crumbs, leaving a trail of pieces