“This,” Nick told them, “is rational behavior. You know how, in horror movies, someone’s house is haunted, and they stay? Even though all they’d have to do to stop everything is just move out? That’s what we need to do here. Dad’s right.”

“Who said anything about horror movies?” Kyle asked.

“Come on, Dad. We all know what we’re talking about. And you’re exactly right. We need to get out before the bank ends up killing us.”

Kyle couldn’t argue, because it was the thought in the back of all of their minds.

How is this possible? he wondered. How could it have come to this?

None of them had much to say after that, the three of them lost in their own private thoughts. But they stayed together in the living room for the rest of the night, something that hadn’t happened since Nick hit puberty. And all three of them watched the same program on TV without complaining, an HBO movie, a comedic look at financial deregulation and how it had led to the great recession.

Sixteen

SIXTEEN

1

They were waiting outside his house when he awoke shortly after noon. Chet had never given out his address over the airwaves, but he shouldn’t have been surprised that his army had been able to track him down. It was impossible to remain completely anonymous in a town as small as Montgomery. And nothing was really private in this internet age.

His army.

They actually looked like an army, albeit a rather ragtag version. There were ten of them, dressed in fatigues, and though he had his doubts that any of them had actually served, all of the men standing in his driveway were armed with rifles and handguns. Seeing them through the window, he tried to recall if he had talked about anything on the show last night that would inspire this call to arms, but honestly couldn’t remember.

Quickly, Chet dressed and walked outside.

The guy with the Duck Dynasty beard seemed to be the ringleader—Chet had since found out that his name was Melvin—and the man saluted, checking around to make sure the others were doing the same. “Reporting for duty!” he declared.

What duty that might be, Chet still did not know, but he nodded in approval.

Melvin stepped forward, taking out his phone. “We have a report here of a gang of illegals hanging out at the Lottaburger. Or what used to be the Lottaburger. Now it’s that wetback chink place.”

“Juan Wang’s?”

“Yeah. We’re heading over there to show ’em what’s what, let ’em know this ain’t no place for their kind. Maybe round ’em up if they don’t have papers and drop’m off at the sheriff’s station, show them how real law enforcement’s supposed to work. After that, we’re gonna patrol the town. Thought you might want to come along.”