He remembers the time he opened his eyes outside, a time Malorie doesn’t know about, but Olympia does. A creature had passed through camp and Tom, angry, restless, inspired, got close to the ground where it had just stood. There, he cupped his hands over his eyes and looked to the grass. He needed to know if the imprint of a creature, the effect of the creature on its immediate environment, would have the same effect as seeing one outright. He rationalized the danger away by telling himself Malorie and Olympia needed to know. The whole world needed to know. Because if an imprint left behind could drive one mad, perhaps there weren’t as many creatures in the vicinity, or on the planet, to begin with. Maybe their absence, but recent presence, could be just as bad.

He feels some embarrassment for the experiment now. While the census pages describe incredible feats, he knows in his heart his own precarious moment wouldn’t have helped anyone, because nobody knew he was experimenting.

This is one of the many trials of living with Malorie Walsh. Not being permitted to speak of such things.

He reads on:

The people of Indian River do not drink. It’s a community ordinance. But they do smoke marijuana. I’ve yet to come upon a community who values the elasticity of the human imagination quite like this one. It’s a difficult town to describe, in ordinary terms, as they do things here that are not done anywhere else. Depending on one’s personal stance, Athena Hantz’s description of her own town is either spot on or chilling: “We’re allowed,” she told me. When I asked her what she meant by that, she only smiled.

“Hell yeah,” Tom says. “Hell. Yes.”

They do things here that are not done anywhere else.

It’s invigorating. Electrifying.

We’re allowed…

Indian River is north of Lansing. Tom checked Malorie’s map twice before they left Yadin. It’s on the way to Mackinaw City.

Could he…might he…will he get to experience this city, these people, in person?

He wants to cry out. He wants to throw the blanket aside and run, loud, through the fields that no doubt lie beyond the barn. He wants to feel the night upon him. The open air. The freedom of the people who live in Indian River.

And he wants to see it. The world. The stars, the sky, the moon, the darkness.

He wants to see the night. This night. Every night. The night he learned about Indian River and the people who live there. The night he discovered others do think like he does. What’s the word Olympia uses for this kind of thing?

Relate.