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to feel like much for awhile. I’ll stay with him until Dale—he’s my brother, you know, gets here.”
    I put my arms in the sleeves of Tucker’s large coat and fought down the shakes. I gave Eddy another look and started back up the hill to Tucker’s truck, a journey that seemed to take hours but only took maybe ten minutes. I got in and obediently locked the doors, turning up the heater as high as it would go. I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Meri. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but as I heard her voice, the whole story came tumbling out, along with some tears.
    By the time I had rehashed the story for Phil, Dale had not only arrived but had helped Tucker bring Eddy back up the hill. They put Eddy in Dale’s old rusty jeep, and Tucker came back over to me. Eddy seemed to be only partially conscious, and it took both men to hold him up. I had seen Dale before, and knew on some level that he was Tucker’s brother, but he was not someone I really knew, nor anyone I wanted to know. Where Tucker was built, Dale was slender. Where Tucker was gorgeous, Dale was mousy looking. He had not attended high school here in Catfish but had gone to a “kicked-out-of-school” residential facility of some kind. He was a couple of years older than Tucker and me. The rumor was that Dale was bad news, although he had been quiet enough since returning to Catfish.
    Tucker had shut off Eddy’s car and pocketed the keys. He came over to me and got in the driver’s side. I had moved over to the passenger side as he approached. “Is he hurt bad?” I asked him, not sure what kind of answer I hoped for.
    “He must have hit his head on a rock when he landed; he’s bleeding like a son-of-a-bitch,” Tucker said. “But don’t worry, head wounds do that. They’ll fix him up at the hospital.”
    I shook my head, “It’s more than just his head. Tucker, he was like a different person.”
    Tucker put the truck in gear and drove easily out of the picnic area. “Yeah, well, that’s the thing, ain’t it? See, Dale told me that there’s some weird shit going down around here. People just freaking out or something. A clerk at city hall shot a bunch of people this morning. Some people in the crowd committed suicide all of a sudden.”
    “What? Why didn’t I know this?” I knew we had been watching the news earlier, but that had been national news, and Catfish Lake didn’t rate on programs like that, even if there was a shooting.
    “If you went out of town the other way, you might have missed the cars and police and shit,” he said.
    Now that I thought about it, I did remember seeing several cop cars on our way out of town, but I had been too wrapped up thinking about Eddy’s silence. We were nearing town now, and suddenly a teenager came flying out of a house and ran into the side of Tucker’s truck, making a hollow banging noise.
    Tucker stopped and exited before I even realized what had happened. “You okay?” he was asking the teenager, who was sobbing. I recognized Sommer Griffin, the daughter of Susan, who had briefly worked at SuperSubs. Susan herself came running out of the house. “Oh my God! Is she hurt? Did you hit her?”
    I sprang to Tucker’s defense. “She ran into us, actually.”
    Tucker was still holding on to Sommer, whose voice was rising from a tortured cry into a scream. “I can’t do this!” she howled to the sky. I noticed she had on an overlarge shirt and shorts. No shoes or socks, but she didn’t seem to feel the cold. Susan tried to touch her, and Sommer hissed at her like an angry cat. “It’s hurts! Please, I can’t do this!”
    My head seemed to throb as if in sympathy. I rubbed my temples absently, trying to think of what to do.
    Suddenly Sommer gave a huge twist, and Tucker lost his hold on her. Sommer fell to the ground and rolled, coming up running like a frightened deer. She ran down the middle of the street, then veered and ran between two houses. Susan called after her and