“Cooper, why would everyone die down here?”

But it was Becky who spoke next. She entered the circle to stand at Cooper’s side, her attention entirely on the sheriff but her eyes roaming the room.

“You’re only giving those televisions away because you don’t know how else to fill these people’s lives.”

“Miss, we’re not talking about—”

“I mean,” Becky went on. “You don’t have the first clue what else you can possibly do to compensate for the emptiness that’s about to be handed back to them, so you’re just filling it up with stuff and the same old shit they’ve always been sold, hoping nobody will even notice.”

The sheriff looked to Terri for help. But it was all Terri could do to stand by and listen.

“Becky,” the sheriff went on. “It’s Becky, isn’t it?

Becky held his gaze and said nothing, which the sheriff took to mean yes. “Well, Becky, we’re not talking about no goddamn televisions right now. We’re talking about why you think everyone will die.”

“Yeah,” said Becky. “We are.”

“And you’re scaring people with it.”

Cooper nodded. “They should be scared.”

“Now, son, I’m begging you to tread so carefully right now.”

But the sheriff was running clean out of options. He needed to appeal to some part of Cooper that wasn’t even in the room right now, so Peter stepped between two of the chairs to enter the circle, his heart so tired of aching, and stood there until Cooper had no choice but to look his way.

“You haven’t even given this a go.”

“I’ve given it plenty.”

“You promised me you’d try.”

“But—”

“You promised me.”

“Peter,” said Becky, like she still had every right to his friendship. “Don’t you ever sit in that ticket booth and quietly wonder if that’s all there is to it?”

Peter cleared his throat. “Marge reckons I’ll make assistant manager inside a year if I keep it up.”

Becky laughed but forgot to tell her eyes. “Keep what up?”

“What?”

“Keep what up, Pete?”

“I don’t know. Look, why are you trying to trip me?”

“Nobody’s trying to trip you.”

“This is our home now.”

Dark amusement filled Becky’s eyes. “Is it?”

“Well,” said Peter, “whichever state we’re resettled in will be, yes.”

“And then what will happen?”

“Whatever we want. College. A job.”

“And then what?”

“And then we go get a nice home.”

“And then what?”

“And get nice things to put it in.”

Becky shrugged. “And then what?”

“And then what, what?”

“And then what, Peter? Think.”

“Stop trying to trip me! Why are you trying to trip me?”

“We’re here and then we’re gone, Peter,” she said. “And all people do in this place is bide their time until their time is over. You just won’t see it.”