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they were all thinking: she’s tall.
    “Ah, great.” His hands clapped together and remained clasped close to his chest. His face broke into an even more welcoming smile. “Where are you from?”
    I didn’t know whether to say Earth, Ireland, or Leitrim. I went with my gut instincts and “Ireland” was all that came out of my mouth, which hadn’t spoken for days.
    “Splendid!” The cheery fellow’s smile was so bright and I couldn’t help but return it. “What a coincidence! Please come and join us.” He excitedly led me toward the group with a hop, skip, and a jump.
    “My name is Bernard,” he beamed like the Cheshire cat, “and heartiest welcome to the Irish contingency. We’re frightfully outnumbered here,” he said, frowning, “although it seems that the numbers are rising. Excuse me, where are my manners?” His cheeks flushed.
    “Underneath that sock over there.”
    I turned to look at the source of the smart comment to see an attractive woman in her fifties, tight salt-and-pepper hair, with a lilac pashmina shawl draped around her shoulders. She was staring distantly into the center fire, the dancing flames reflecting in her dark eyes, her comments flowing out of her mouth as though she were on autopilot.
    “Who have I the pleasure of being acquainted with?” Bernard beamed with excitement; his neck craned up to look at me.
    “My name is Sandy,” I replied, “Sandy Shortt.”
    “Splendid.” His cheeks flushed again and he shook my outstretched hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Allow me to introduce you to the rest of the gang, as they say.”
    “As who say?” the woman grumbled irately.
    “That’s Helena. She loves to chat. Always has something to say, don’t you, Helena?” Bernard looked at her for an answer.
    The wrinkles around her mouth deepened as she pursed her lips.
    “Ah.” He wiped his brow and turned to introduce me to a woman named Joan; Derek, the long-haired hippie playing the guitar; and Marcus, who was sitting quietly in the corner. I took them in quickly: they were all of a similar age and seemed very comfortable with one another. Not even Helena’s sarcastic comments were causing any friction.
    “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll get you a drink of some sort—”
    “Where are we?” I cut in, unable to take his bumbling pleasantries any longer.
    All other conversation around the fire stopped suddenly and even Helena raised her head to stare at me. She took me in, a quick glance up and down, and I felt like my soul had been absorbed. Derek stopped strumming his guitar, Marcus smiled lightly and looked away, Joan and Bernard stared at me with wide frightened Bambi eyes. All that could be heard was the sound of the campfire crackling and popping as sparks sprang out and spiraled their way up to the sky. Owls hooted and there was the distant snap of branches being stepped on by wanderers beyond.
    There was a deathly silence around the campfire.
    “Is anyone going to answer the girl?” Helena looked around with an amused expression. Nobody spoke. “Well, if nobody speaks up,” she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and grasped it at her chest, “I’m going to give my opinion.”
    Voices of objection rose from the circle and I immediately wanted to hear Helena’s opinion all the more. Her eyes danced, enjoying the choir of disapproval.
    “Tell me, Helena,” I interrupted, feeling my usual impatience with people return. I always wanted to get to the point. I hated pussyfooting around.
    “Oh, you don’t want that, trust me,” Bernard fluffed, his double chin wobbling as he spoke.
    Helena lifted her silver-haired head in defiance and her dark eyes glistened as she looked at me directly. Her mouth twitched at the side. “We’re dead.”
    Two words said coolly, calmly, crisply.
    “Now, now, don’t you mind her,” Bernard said in what I imagined was his best angry voice.
    “Helena,” Joan admonished, “we’ve been through this