She went into Johnny‘s room and cleared the twin bed by the simple expedient of lifting up the mattress and letting everything on it slide to the floor: clothes, books, CDs, headphones, copies of Maximand Outsideand National Geographic, a halfempty bag of Doritos, a plastic sleeve with one remaining saltine cracker, a bowl that looked like it might once have held a generous portion of Cherry Garcia ice cream, and a thumb drive. She rescued the bowl, although cleaning it would take a hammer and chisel, and the thumb drive and swept the rest into a pile and put it in a trash bag which she stowed on the back deck. Either Johnny would never miss it all or he‘d look until he found it. If he didn‘t find it Kate would cart it out to the dump west of the house. Kate didn‘t usually clean up after Johnny, as had been agreed when he moved in. The most she was willing to do was limit the chaos by closing the door on it. These circumstances, however, were extraordinary. She remade the bed with clean sheets and came out of the bedroom to find the bathroom door opening. The stranger shuffled out, Old Sam holding him up with both hands. The man was dressed in jeans that were two inches too long and a Tshirt from Johnny‘s Kanye West period. He had about as much mass as a scarecrow and the clothes hung on him. Old Sam had threaded a double strand of what looked like dental floss through the belt loops of the jeans. It was the only thing keeping them from sliding to the floor.

In here, she said.

Old Sam laid him down on the bed, and Kate covered him up. He stared unblinking at the ceiling.

Mister, Kate said. Who are you?

He said nothing.

Can you tell us your name? Your family‘s bound to be worried. We could call them, tell them you‘re all right.

The man stared past Kate and his face twisted. Aaaah, he said, starting to shake again. Aaaaaaaaaaah.

It‘s okay, buddy, Old Sam said. You‘re all right. No bogeymen here, just us. Old Sam‘s rough voice seemed to calm the stranger more than Kate‘s raspy monotone. He quieted.

You‘re safe here, Old Sam said. You‘re safe. You‘re safe.

The man‘s eyes closed, perhaps lulled by Old Sam‘s litany.

There was silence. He‘s not dead, is he? Kate said.

Sssshh. Old Sam put his gnarled hand down gently on the man‘s chest. After a moment, it rose and fell with the man‘s breathing.

He‘s sleeping, right? Kate said in a whisper. Not in a coma, or anything? Jesus Christ, Old Sam whispered back. Of course the man‘s asleep. He‘s been lost in the Bush for what looks like the hell of a while, he‘s clean and fed for the first time in who knows how long, you‘d be sleeping, too. Go on, get out of here. Maybe somebody should stay with him, Kate said, looking over her shoulder. Maybe somebody should leave him the hell alone, Old Sam said, shoving her out the door in front of him and closing it firmly in Auntie Vi and Holly Haynes‘s faces. He never told us his name, Kate said.