Cooper had told Peter, from his time looting the stores for medicines and firearms all those years ago, that the town was just a gap in the wilderness. That the winding road broke clean out of the woods, straightening out on to Mainstreet with its movie theatre and diner, a general store and bar, and how, when you got to the other end, the buildings just stopped and the road disappeared back inside the pines on the other side. And he was right. But what he’d described was a ghost town.

Hills of snowy pines rose up sharply behind the red brick of Mainstreet. But somehow you barely even noticed them. Because below was nothing but magic.

Neon lights flashed. From every store. From every window. And in every colour. Above a store called the Old Western Outfitters, a giant neon cowboy rode a bucking bronco. The lights switched and the cowboy launched his Stetson into the air. Over at the old movie theatre, scores of amber light bulbs rippled beneath the marquee, turning snow on the sidewalk beneath it gold. A neon Budweiser sign fizzed. Twinkling fairy lights had been coiled around every lamppost. More lights were strewn above the road, crisscrossing the length of Mainstreet on thin cables. Snow hurried over the little town and the brightly coloured light bulbs jangled. And high above them all, burning red like a branding iron in the sky, swung the town’s largest sign.

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“It’s just a darned show town really,” said the sheriff, coming to stand by Peter’s side at the window. “As Walt Disney as Mainstreet, USA, except the rocks don’t play goddamn ‘Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah’ all day long. But it’s a glimpse of what was, Peter, and what could be again in the cities and towns. If they let you in.”

Peter pressed both hands to the window in wonder. It was a toyshop, the most beautiful toyshop in all the world. Only he was on the inside looking out.

“And it’s safe, too,” said the sheriff. “You won’t have to live in fear no more, son. You can always call on one of our Returnee friends to chaperone you door to door if you feel safer that way, but we got two of ’em on watch down either end of the street, night and day, come snow or more snow, so folks never have to worry.”

Peter stepped back from the window and the sheriff’s reflection came into focus in the glass.

“I’m sorry your boy’s got himself mixed up in something, son.”

“Then tell me what I have to do.”

“Just do what you can to find out what Timberdark is. If we can get there before the government do, then we might, just might, be able to keep this whole thing from blowing wide open.”