As he continued along the road, moving slowly, he observed three things: The tractor was stopped in the field and that should not be, and something about the house was wrong. Coming here had been a good instinct, because what was off about the house was that all the curtains were drawn, and why would that be on a bright summer afternoon?

This morning, the only closed curtains had been in one of the upstairs bedrooms, so this was trouble, no question.

In the back of his mind was the thought that maybe hybrids were in there right now, and maybe he’d caught them flat-footed at last. Maybe the hunter would come home with a little game in his goddamn bag this time. He was no longer concerned about bring ’em back alive. No niceties. They would be butchered.

“Okay, people, you want to surround the structure. The idea is, maybe I flush something.”

Linda asked, “You’re going in?”

He left that question to die a silent death.

She said, “If you kill anything, for God’s sake, try to leave it as intact as possible.”

“I want at least two Metal Storms charged and ready,” he said. “If you see any kind of attack coming, do not hesitate to use them.”

“Colonel, we need bodies.”

“We need to stay alive!”

Leaving his armor and his carry behind, he got out of the van. The equipment was good, but it made you lumber. If there was going to be a win here, it was going to be about speed, his pistol and his knife.

He ran up to the house. The layout would be a front room, a dining room, behind them a family room and a kitchen. Upstairs, four bedrooms. Maybe a mudroom on the back behind the kitchen.

He stood on the porch. Beside him was a green rocking chair, dusty from disuse. He could knock on the front door, but since he wasn’t entirely stupid, he didn’t do that.

The silence was absolute, not even the hum of bees in the front pasture, not a single creak from the house, certainly no voices, no sounds of activity.

He dove through the living room window and rolled up against a couch in a fog of pulverized glass and a tangle of curtains. Standing, he ripped them from his body and braced his weapon.

The room contained the couch, maroon, the cushions protected by clear plastic covers, a couple of standing lamps, a couple of chairs, a side table, and some incidental furniture. Nothing had been changed in here for a long time, certainly nothing today.

The room was old and comfortably human. He wondered, would they move into houses like this and simply start using them?