I left the cabin without another word and locked myself in the Econoline. Then I sat there, sat there for hours, mind racing. I sat there until the sun went down and the air grew chill. I sat there until night blacked the trees and a light came on in the cabin. I sat there until Czarnecki called out, “There’s an extra can of stew, if you want it.”

When I returned to the cabin, the old man put a bowl in front of me and didn’t say anything until I’d eaten my fill. Then all he asked was, “You ready?”

I answered with a nod.

I followed him out to the shed, him carrying a bowl of Dinty Moore for the kid. The boy was sitting on the cot in the dark, the blanket draped over his bare shoulders. The only other thing in the shed was a reeking five-gallon bucket that served as a toilet. Czarnecki slid the bowl and a spoon across the floor. The kid snatched them up and shoveled stew into his mouth. When he finished, Czarnecki threw him a ring of keys.

“Get dressed,” he said.

“I need more than that slop,” the kid said. “It’s been over a month since I fed proper.”

Czarnecki drew a pistol, a .45, from the pocket of his coveralls and pointed it at the boy. “Get dressed,” he said again.

The kid unlocked the shackles on his ankles and pulled on a pair of jeans that lay neatly folded on the floor, then sat on the cot to tie his sneakers. He reshackled his ankles, took off his handcuffs, and donned a T-shirt and a denim jacket. When the cuffs were back in place, Czarnecki ordered him to undo the chain from the eyebolt in the floor and return the keys.

“Stand clear,” the old man said, waving the .45 at me. “Never let him get too close. They’re no stronger than us, but because they can heal, they’ll take chances you wouldn’t and fight a lot harder. If this one tried to jump me, I’d shoot him in the head. The round wouldn’t kill him, but it’d put him down long enough for me to finish him off, and there are a few ways to do that. I could stop his heart with a knife and leave him to rot, I could drag him into the sun, I could burn him, or I could starve him of blood. The quickest and easiest way is to hurt them enough they can’t fight back, then cut off their heads. They’ll turn to dust in an instant.”