He was bearded and filthy and so emaciated it was impossible to tell his age. He could have been fifteen or fifty. They could smell him from the deck. Mutt, recovering her composure, streaked down the stairs and halted in front of him on stiff legs, head between her shoulders, ears flat, her patented threatening growl issuing from deep in her throat. Kate heard Auntie Vi suck in her breath. She said, keeping her voice low and soothing, Mister?

He‘d been backing away from Mutt‘s growl. Now he jerked around at the sound of her voice, tripped over one of the buckets of brined salmon, and almost fell. Uncle, Kate said in a soft voice. When he came to stand beside her she handed him the rifle. Cover me.

All right, girl.

She came down the steps very slowly, talking all the while in a low, nonthreatening voice. You been lost in the woods, mister, right? You‘re okay now. You‘re found. We‘ll take care of you.

He let her get within ten feet before he flung himself backward again. He tripped over a pile of alder kindling, scattering it everywhere, and this time he did fall. He landed hard, then pulled himself into a fetal position, hands over his head, uttering a high, thin, continuous cry.

Jesus, Kate heard Old Sam say. She glanced at him and saw that he looked as unnerved as she felt. In itself that was almost as shocking as the sight of the apparition in front of them.

Mutt had stopped growling. Mutt was a better threat indicator than Homeland Security. If she had ceased to perceive their uninvited guest as dangerous, then he wasn‘t. Of course, it wasn‘t like she wasn‘t still on alert, ears flattened, lips drawn back, drawn up on tiptoe and ready to protect and defend.

Kate took small, slow steps forward, continuing to speak in a husky and she hoped soothing monotone. Mister, it‘s all right now, it‘s okay, you‘re back in the world. We‘re going to take care of you. You‘re cold, and you‘re hungry, and you‘re tired. We‘re going to take care of all that.

She continued to croon, scarcely knowing what she was saying, as she knelt next to him. A tentative hand on his shoulder caused him to shriek. Everyone jumped, and Old Sam swore again.

It‘s okay, Kate said, it‘s all right.

He lay there on the ground, a quivering knot of misery, unwilling or unable to look at her. She wasn‘t even sure if he could hear her, but she kept talking, and began to pat his shoulder, accustoming him to being touched. Close up, his wounds looked far worse. Some of them were infected, others well on their way. The putrid aroma of decomposition made her swallow hard, but his eyes were fixed on her face, wide, unblinking. For the first time in her life Kate thought that a working cell phone system in the Park might not be such a bad thing.