He watched her through the window, pulling weeds, wondering if this was some sort of elaborate denial, if one day, unexpectedly, she was just going to snap and all of her pent-up emotions would explode.

Maybe he would broach the subject with her, bring it up gently.

As usual, the mailman had gotten off scot-free. The police had questioned him, but he had pulled the old the-Postal-Service-is-not-responsible-for-the-content-of-the-mail-it-delivers crap, and as usual, there was not a damn thing anyone could do about it. There was nothing linking him specifically to the mail sent to Irene, nothing anyone could prove.

The mailman promised that he would institute a thorough Postal Service inquiry to discover the source of the bodypart packages.

A thorough Postal Service inquiry…

Shit.

The hot dogs were boiling, and Doug told Billy to run outside and get his mother, it was time for lunch.

“Wait,” Billy said. “It’s almost time for a commercial.”

“You’ve seen that show a thousand times. Go get her now.”

“Wait a sec.”

Doug sighed, shaking his head. He opened the window, letting in a breath of warm summer air. “Time to eat,” he called.

She looked up at him, squinting, and waved. “Be right there.”

He watched her put down the trowel, brush off her hands and knees, and jog toward the porch. They should have gotten out of here. They should have left Willis a long time ago, when everything first started, before it all got too deep. Now it was too late. They were stuck. The gas stations in town had run out of gas, and no new fuel was scheduled to be delivered because none of the stations, not even the name franchises, had paid their bills.

The checks had gotten lost in the mail.

Doug turned off the stove, took out the hot dogs, and used a fork to pick them up, putting them in the buns. The gas shortage was only temporary, he knew. Phone calls were being made, problems explained, deals negotiated, but for at least the next three or four days no one could leave Willis unless they already had a full tank of gas. The Bronco was only half full.

He couldn’t help feeling that everything was coming to a head, that three or four days was all the mailman needed to accomplish whatever it was he had set out to do.

Tritia came in sweating, wiping her forehead. “Whew! It’s hot out there today. I hope we get some rain this afternoon to cool it off. Anybody hear the weather?”

Doug shook his head. Billy, watching Dick Van Dyke, did not even hear the question.