Maybe it wasn’t just for him. Maybe the mailman had sent the same brochure, the same photos, to other people in town. Maybe other men were right now staring at the false body of his wife, reading the mailman’s fake words, fantasizing, planning.

He pushed the thought from his mind as he walked back toward the house.

He threw the torn scraps of paper into the garbage before going inside.

The town had seemed nearly abandoned the other day when they’d gone to the store, with very few cars on the street, very few people visible anywhere, so Doug was more than a little surprised to see a crowd gathered in the parking lot in front of the deli. He had been planning to go to the hardware store, to pick up some more flashlight and radio batteries before they were all sold out, but he pulled into the Bayless parking lot when he saw the crowd. He parked next to a gray Jeep Cherokee and got out. The group of people standing in front of the deli was fairly quiet and fairly still, but there was something threatening about them as they stood in a rough semicircle around Todd Gold’s station wagon. Doug moved forward. He recognized the faces of several students and several adults. They appeared to be waiting for something, and although there was nothing unusual in either their individual expressions or stances, merely being part of the crowd made them seem menacing.

Todd came out of his store, carrying a large white box. He put the box into the open rear of the station wagon, next to a score of others that had already been packed. He slammed shut the hatch. Doug pressed through the group of people to the front as the deli owner angrily waved the onlookers away. “Get the hell out of here. Haven’t you done enough already?”

The crowd stood dumbly, silently watching as he went into the store, emerged carrying several sacks, then closed and locked the now empty deli. “Get out of here,” he yelled again. He dropped one of the sacks on the ground as he took out his car keys.

Doug reached him just before he opened the front door. “What is it, Todd? What happened? What are you doing?”

The storekeeper glared angrily at Doug. “I at least expected better from you. Some of these rednecks”—he waved a dismissive hand toward the crowd—“I can understand. They’ve never seen a Jew before, don’t know what to do or how to handle it, but you…”

Doug stared at him, confused. The man seemed to be talking gibberish. “What are you talking about?”