“Internet. It’s all over.” He shrugged. “Conspiracy theories, government cover-ups. Vampire stuff. Most of it sounds half crazy. Hard to tell what’s bullshit and what ain’t.”

Wolgast returned his weapon to the hollow of his spine. He considered asking the man if he could use his computer, to see the news for himself. But he already knew more than enough. It was entirely possible, he realized, that he knew more than any person alive. He’d seen Carter and the others, what they could do.

“I’ll tell you one thing. There’s a guy, calls himself ‘Last Stand in Denver.’ Posting a video blog from a high-rise downtown. Says he’s barricaded in there with a high-powered rifle. Got some good footage, you should see these bastards move.” The man tapped his breastbone again. “Just remember what I told you. One shot. You don’t get two. They move at night, in the trees.”

The man helped Wolgast gather up supplies and carry them to the car: canned goods, powdered milk and coffee, batteries, toilet paper, candles, fuel. A pair of fishing rods and a box of tackle. The sun was high and bright; around them, the air seemed frozen with an immense stillness, like the silence just before an orchestra began to play.

At the back of the car, the two shook hands. “You’re up at Bear Mountain, aren’t you?” the man said. “You don’t mind my asking.”

There seemed no reason to hide it. “How did you know?”

“The way you came.” The man shrugged. “There’s nothing else up there except for the camp. Don’t know why they never could sell it.”

“I went there as a kid. Funny, it hasn’t changed at all. I guess that’s the point of places like that.”

“Well, you’re smart. It’s a good spot. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“You should bug out, too,” Wolgast said. “Head higher into the mountains. Or go north.”

Wolgast could read it in the man’s eyes; he was making a decision.

“Come on,” he said finally. “I’ll show you something.”