“Oh, no. Those things only broke into ours,” she said rather matter-of-factly, as if she’d just heard about it rather than experienced it firsthand. “The ones in the other basement were all okay. That’s the first place we checked this morning, and we’ve found more people since. Most stayed out to help Charlie, but they brought the younger kids back here.”

“Help Charlie do what?”

“What you said had to be done—tracking down the rest of them. I’ll be going out on the next run. I only stayed behind this long to keep an eye on you.”

He came up behind her, put his hands around her waist. “I appreciate that, but I’m fine, honest. How’s Del doing?”

“Oh, he’s a real trooper. Never bats an eye, though I don’t think it’s really sunk in on him. He and Bart were very close.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m okay, I guess. My shoulder hurts like hell, but other than that . . .” For a moment she let her guard down, and leaned back against him and enveloped herself in his arms. But then she pulled away on second thought and stood on her own. “I’m sorry, Chris. It’s just that . . .”

He turned her around, hushed her with a finger to her lips and an understanding smile. “I’ll be here,” he said. “When you need me.” He kissed her lightly and then stepped away. “I think I’ll go out on the porch for a while. The sun should do me some good.” He took his coffee cup and left the kitchen, with the cat following close behind.

The front yard had been cleaned up since he’d last seen it, the bodies swept away as if by a divine wind. But the effects of the battle were still prominent. Stray silver pellets pocked the siding and support columns and one of the metal porch chairs, and the front door still leaned drunkenly against the house a good three feet from its true moorings. The fence out front lay in splinters all along the sidewalk, and tire tracks were deeply carved into the well-tended lawn. And then, there was always the van itself, lying on its side like a beached whale a few feet from the walk. Stiles limped off the porch to inspect the damage, but he could see it was a lost cause already. The windshield was gone and the sides were crushed like a Coke can. The stink of leaking coolant and gasoline assailed his nostrils. But, surprisingly, he wasn’t all that upset. This time he was happy just to be getting out alive.