“Okay, see you when my shift is over. Nick should be getting up soon. I heard him rustling around a little while ago. He said something that’s making me nervous. Well, not really nervous. Maybe concerned would be a better word. He said when he took the first shift, things didn’t feel right out there for some reason, and it wasn’t the rain. Not that he found anything wrong, it was just that things seemed off somehow. He didn’t know whether he should mention it, but he did say that. He said it was nothing he could pinpoint, just a feeling he had. Of course, that was early on in the evening. The day was winding down, that kind of thing. It would explain his feelings to a point. Did you notice anything, Lionel? Should I be looking or searching for something out of the ordinary?”

“Nick is right. The beat and the rhythm is off. That’s the only way I can explain it. I know every inch of Happy Village, and something is definitely off. I can’t explain it any better than Nick did. Go ahead now. I’ll talk to Nick when he gets up. Then I’m going to catch a few winks. Call me if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary. Do not, I repeat, do not try to be a hero out there if you do spot something. Just call or text. We’re not looking to be heroes here. The rain is letting up, so it won’t be too bad for your shift. It might have stopped by now. Take care, and don’t do anything stupid, you hear?”

Dom grinned. “Okay, Dad.” It was an ongoing joke, with Lionel saying the same thing every night when he and Nick left to do their patrol. The door closed softly behind the intrepid student, then opened almost immediately. “Stopped raining!” he called out, then closed the door once again.

“Thank God!” Nick grumbled as he ambled over to the table and flopped down on one of the folding chairs. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to swim my route when we come back tonight. Everything okay, Lionel?”

“I don’t know, Nick. I had this . . . this . . . weird feeling the whole time I was on patrol. Dom said you felt something strange. The rain had nothing to do with it. There’s something wrong, I can sense it. And yet I double-checked everything. There’s nothing I can put my finger on. The three of us know every nook and cranny of this place. I know when something is wrong. I can feel it in my steps, something lurking that you can’t see but only sense. It’s not a sound, it’s not a thing or a place. It’s just . . . just . . . I guess the air. I can’t explain it for the life of me.”