Outside the moon and stars lit the woods behind the bar so bright I could see my own shadow cast in front of me, same as daylight. But we weren’t alone out here. Off in the woods I heard laughter, cackles in the darkness. People stood in the shadows of the trees, watching us, maybe a dozen of them, their eyes shining in the black like moons.

“Are you seeing this?” I said. “Or am I having a vision?”

“I’m seeing it,” said Murphy. “We need to leave. Now.”

We ran to the front of the bar and got on our bikes and pedaled the miles back to the Farm.

“I told you,” said Murphy once we were back home in our bunk beds, the bikes stashed away. “This whole place sucks. And if your goddamn imaginary Hobo hadn’t shown up, we probably would have gotten to the bottom of it.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think the Hobo is a sign, a warning. I think he meant for us to leave, that something bad would happen if we stayed.”

“Judging by the people staring at us all hungry-like from the woods back there, he might have been right,” said Murphy. “There’s still so much I don’t understand. Why didn’t Grandma tell us we had an uncle? Shit, why didn’t Mom ever mention him? And why the fuck did they bury him in the woods like that?”

“I don’t know,” I said. But he’s wonderful, I almost told her. I listen to his sermons after you fall asleep at night.

But I didn’t say a word. Something felt wrong about it, like this secret wasn’t hers, like she wasn’t ready yet.

Ready? Ready for what?

“Anyway, I’m going to bed,” said Murphy. “It’s like four A.M., and I got to get some sleep tonight. Grandma will probably make me cut down a whole goddamn tree by myself tomorrow. I swear the old bitch is just trying to wear me out.”

I hated when Murphy talked shit about Grandma. But I didn’t feel like getting in a fight this late at night, so I held my peace.

“Good night, Murphy,” I said.

“Whatever,” she said.

And eventually I fell asleep.

Chapter 25