Sometime later, the snow ceased and clouds drifted over the stars. No sound, save the low moan of the wind. Blow of snow off the roof and the house shuddering. Maybe some part of him wished he’d never made it back. That deepest part wished for it all to be over.

It’d be the best thing for Matty.

Best thing for everyone.

He lay there, breathing. Waiting for the sweet nothing of sleep. Count the minutes. The slivers of time. Each sliver one more in the long slow end of something that, once lost, he feared he’d never find again. Each breath taken with a price.

A noise called him out of sleep. Soft whispers. The front door swung wide, and the man in the top hat stood in the opening. The night framed him from behind so his figure was just a shadow. His eyes landed on Jack. Lustrous, like wet obsidian. He raised the semiautomatic.

“If you want it to be over so bad,” the man said, “I can help you with that.”

He leveled the barrel at Matty and squeezed the trigger at Matty’s head.

Jack threw off the blanket, inhaling, but his mind knew already: It was a dream.

No. Not a dream.

A warning.

They will find the truck.

They’ll find the truck and then they’ll find you. And they’ll find Matty.

Faint canes of light slanted through the ceiling holes. Snow. The air cold. The fire out. It must be almost dawn. He sat forward.

Matty stood by him, balancing on one foot beside the blankets. He held very still and squinted at Jack.

“Look,” he said. “Count how long I can balance.”

Jack pushed back his hair and glanced about. Ava wasn’t there.

He could see his breath.

Matty lifted his scrawny arms and teetered like a gymnast on a beam. He looked as if he could hear some invisible crowd cheer.

“Aren’t I good, Jack?” he said.

“Yes. You are.”

Matty smiled.

Jack bent his legs to stand, but hot coals of ache glowed in his side and stunned him. He ran his hand over the bandage gently, remembering the fever, the night, the dream. They could find this place anytime.

“We’ve got to go.”

In the kitchen, a door slammed. Footsteps. Jack lurched to his feet and everything darkened, then cleared. Ava stood in the doorway, holding an armload of split wood.

“Ava, watch me balance,” Matty said.

Jack did not know where to put his gaze. Ava’s cheeks were red from the wind, and wet snowflakes glinted in her hair.

Think.

Not about her.

Where to go? Somewhere far. Take a bus, maybe.

“We need to leave,” Jack said.

Ava looked at him intently for a moment. Then she walked to the hearth and dumped the wood. She turned to him, brushing dirt from her hands. She seemed to be waiting for him to speak.