“If someone messed with our house,” Charlie declared, “I’ll hunt them down and pop a cap in their ass!” Mom almost swerved off the road before shooting me an accusatory look.

“I might have been quoting Pulp Fiction to him again,” I muttered.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Charlie said. “I’m trying real hard to be the shepherd.”

Mom’s right foot alternated between the gas and brake pedals. We were moving that slowly. But soon I saw the green sign that read WELCOME TO BOXSMITH COUNTY, and I knew we were close. Everything looked more familiar now, even the trees, which had grown especially lush since we left.

“Do you know when you’re going back to work?” I asked Mom.

“Doug emailed me that the bank may open as soon as tomorrow because people want to check on their money.”

The caravan meandered along the south road beside the Sweetbay River.

I checked my phone again. Still no signal.

Mom turned on the radio, and a deep, authoritative voice intoned, “… continue along your directed route. When you reach Mount Hope town limits, military police will direct you further. Please continue along your directed route …”

It was a loop. I punched the button for the classic-rock station, but the message was there, too. It was everywhere, up and down the dial, AM and FM. Mom turned it off.

“Do you think everything will look the same?” Charlie asked.

“We’ll know soon enough,” I replied.

CHAPTER 2

Jordan

EVERY HALF MILE or so, a military Jeep was parked on the side of the road with camouflage-clad officers monitoring the caravan with walkie-talkies pressed to their faces. One especially muscle-bound guy fixed his steely eyes on me until we moved past him.

My head hurt even more until I saw the Tastee Freeze. The sign’s hundreds of little lightbulbs were all lit, perhaps for the first time ever.

“Let’s get ice cream!” Charlie announced.

“It won’t be open now,” Mom said. “It’s ten in the morning, and people are just getting back.”

“But it is. Look!”

Sure enough, a line of about twenty smiling people snaked from the pickup window around the corner into the parking lot.

“Huh,” she said again, guiding the car past the courthouse and library, their lawns full, green, and perfectly manicured. As we paraded up Main Street, the storefronts and sidewalks all looked power-washed, their windows glinting in the late-morning sunlight.

“What town is this?” Mom asked. “It’s a little too perfect, isn’t it?”

As she turned onto Oak, the traffic dispersed, and we had a clear shot home. But when we arrived at a stop sign, I announced, “You know what? I’m gonna get out here if you don’t mind.”

“Are you crazy, Jordan?” Charlie barked, but Mom had a knowing look on her face.

“Tell Maggie we say hi,” she said.

“Sure thing,” I said, chagrined, as I closed the door behind me and was immediately overwhelmed by the scent of freshly mown grass and flowers in full bloom. Since when did Mount Hope smell like a greenhouse at peak season?