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           AfterheandRachelweredonetalking,JudputonhislightcoatthedayhadcloudedupandthewindhadbeguntoblowandcrossedtheroadtoLouis’shouse,pausingonhissideoftheroadtolookcarefullyfortrucksbeforecrossing.Itwasthetrucksthathadbeenthecauseofallthis.Thedamnedtrucks.

           Exceptitwasn’t.

           HecouldfeelthePetSematarypullingathimandsomethingbeyond.Whereonceitsvoicehadbeenakindofseductivelullaby,thevoiceofpossiblecomfortandadreamysortofpower,itwasnowlowerandmorethanominousitwasthreateningandgrim.Stayoutofthis,you.

           Buthewouldnotstayoutofit.Hisresponsibilitywentbacktoofar.

           HesawthatLouis’sHondaCivicwasgonefromthegarage.TherewasonlythebigFordwagon,lookingdustyandunused.Hetriedthebackdoorofthehouseandfounditopen.

           "Louis?"hecalled,knowingthatLouiswasnotgoingtoanswer,butneedingtocutacrosstheheavysilenceofthishousesomehow.Oh,gettingoldwasstartingtobeapainintheasshislimbsfeltheavyandclumsymostofthetime,hisbackwasamiserytohimafterameretwohoursinthegarden,anditfeltasiftherewasascrewaugerplantedinhislefthip.

           Hebegantogothroughthehousemethodically,lookingforsignshehadtolookforworld’soldesthousebreaker,hethoughtwithoutmuchhumorandwentrightonlooking.

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