I felt a difference right away. Much of the fear and doubt I was having, while not gone, seemed lighter somehow. More manageable. And I also felt new feelings rising in my chest. Anger at what the Rot had done and hope that it could still be fixed.

The spokesman seemed to sense my feelings and warned me to temper them. To not become reckless or lose sight of what was important. Our goals were to destroy Oscar and save Jack if possible. If not, if the enuring process had gone too far, he would have to be killed as well. I finally asked a question that had been fluttering in the back of my mind like a troubled bird since first hearing of their plan.

Why did they need me? If they had managed to stop the woman in the house, why couldn’t they stop Oscar by themselves?

They explained that the woman, while past saving, was not fully enured, was not yet an anchor for the Rot. Even still, several of their number had died stopping her. But Oscar, hiding in the nest the Rot had built here, would be much more formidable. It had already managed to hide Oscar’s corruption from them for longer than they would have thought possible, and they could not underestimate it again. They had to assume the odds would be against them if they fought Oscar alone in that place, much less if Jack was converted as well. That was why it had to be ended and ended right now. That was also why the time for questions was past.

“Mr. Spires, we took the time to explain because you needed that knowledge. So there is no doubt, no hesitation, when the time comes for you to act. But if you don’t go now, all may be lost. The Rot will know we are coming, and our only advantage is if we can reach those men before it is fully ready.”

****

I recovered Jack’s discarded handgun from the overgrown grass in front of the Red House, but its weight gave me little comfort or confidence as I walked up the steps and through the front door of the house. I had little doubt that, unbelievable as it all was, the creatures outside were telling me the truth. I even trusted their promise that they would be there to help when the time came, foolish though that might be. What I feared the most was that they were right—that the Rot couldn’t be stopped and that our hope of even slowing it was slim. Because underneath all the other things I heard in their small leader’s voice—the intelligence, the kindness, the determination, the righteous anger—I heard something else.

Desolate fear.