The girl pointed at him. “You just stay where you are. Okay? I’m going to leave now. I’m going to get the police. I’m going to tell Mayor Blackwater. Don’t make me look like a liar.”

They stared at each other for a long time.

“Okay,” Wayne finally said.

The little girl turned and went to her bike. Wayne watched her, already calculating how long it’d take for a girl her age to ride back into town, to tell the police what she’d found.

How much time did Wayne have exactly?

Shit.

He watched her ride off into the rain. An unseen clock seemed to start ticking.

Shit.

On any other day, he might’ve worried about her getting there safely. Might have even given her a ride. But the Goblin Police were very serious, indeed.

What are the odds? he thought.

But he knew the odds. Always had. He knew everything about The Hedges.

Seven billion, eight hundred twenty-four million, six hundred thirty-two thousand, four hundred eighty-eight to one.

The odds.

The chances of solving The Hedges.

Wayne shook his head sadly. He’d always imagined bringing the victor inside. Pulling up two chairs from the basement. Sitting down with a pitcher of lemonade. Discussing the route taken and why. Wayne wanted to congratulate the winner. And yet he didn’t think anybody would ever do it. And he had years to back that assumption up. And he knew that, if there ever was a winner, if ever someone solved the unfathomable puzzle he’d built so long ago, he’d have to do the same thing he had to do right now.

Run.

He stepped inside and went to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of lemonade anyway.

Shit.

He simply couldn’t believe it. When he sold the girl the eight-dollar ticket three hours ago, it was sunny outside and the only thing he was worried about was whether she’d get too scared and he’d have to go retrieve her. If he’d sold a million tickets then a million ticket holders thought they’d be the one to do it. And how many times did Wayne smile and shake his head when a customer came back claiming there was no finish? No prize? No trophy?

Wayne sipped his lemonade and looked around his kitchen. It felt something like saying goodbye to an old friend. A friend who was there the day you met the girl of your dreams. The friend who first said, You two are good together.

He’d have to run. Right now. This second. He’d have to get a bag together. Get his things. Go.

He’d have to leave this kitchen for good. This house. This land. The Hedges.

Wayne tried to smile. A very small but loud part of himself was happy to leave The Hedges behind. To move on.