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rotating parade of shiny leased cars.
    But now his family was gone and he had lost everything.
    Sam began to cry again, salty tears painful against the raw skin around his eyes. The little blue pills the harried doctor at the hospital gave him had made him numb, but uncomfortably so, as if his brain was packed in cotton wool laced with slivers of crinkled tinfoil.
    After giving him the pills, the doctor told him to leave. ‘Go home’ were his exact words. There were no beds available, except for the dying, and even then it helped if you knew someone.
    Sam tried to explain that he no longer had a home and that death was an acceptable trade for somewhere to lay his head.
    The doctor thought he was joking and laughed aloud as a police officer stepped forward to take Sam’s arm and lead him away.
    He had begun to shiver in the back of the police cruiser, his body convulsing savagely and his teeth chattering so loud, he worried they would break.He popped two more of the blue pills and the young officer handed him a thick, woollen blanket to wrap around his shoulders.
    When the shivering refused to stop, he asked the officer to drive by his home. The young man had looked at him with large, sad brown eyes before reluctantly agreeing.
    As Sam walked the circumference of the pit, he felt as though he had turned to stone. The young officer cleared his throat. ‘I need to get you downtown, Mr White,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t really supposed to bring you back here.’
    ‘What’s your name?’ Sam enquired softly.
    He didn’t turn around as he spoke and anyone passing would think he was talking to the crater rather than the young man who shifted nervously from foot to foot beside his cruiser.
    ‘Dale, er, Officer Dale Ryan.’
    ‘Thanks for everything, Dale.’
    ‘You’re welcome, sir, but we really need to get going. The detectives will want to talk to you.’
    Sam turned his head slowly, as if his skull had grown too heavy for his shoulders. He looked down the street to where someone had moved his abandoned Jeep from the middle of the road and parked it against the kerb. Beside the mini-vans and family sedans, it looked more battered and forlorn than usual.
    And, Sam realized, it was all he had left. ‘Can I take my own vehicle?’
    ‘Sorry, no,’ Ryan said quickly. ‘I’m supposed to make sure you get there.’
    Sam snorted. ‘You’re to make sure I don’t do anything stupid like drive my piece-of-shit Jeep into this fucking hole at 120 miles per hour, huh?’
    ‘Um, yeah, I guess so, Mr White.’
    Sam stared at the officer and a sudden wave of rage burst from within.
    ‘Christ! When did I become so fucking old that twenty-somethings started calling me Mr and Sir, and watching over me like I was about to crap on their good seats?’
    The officer stayed mute.
    ‘I’m only forty-two.’ Sam’s anger crested and ebbed as rapidly as it had erupted. ‘And I’m not planning to crap on your seats.’
    ‘That’s good to know,’ Ryan said tentatively.
    Sam stepped back from the crater’s edge and walked to the cruiser.
    ‘Tell them we’re coming in.’

11
    Zack picked at his plate of potato pancakes, slicing off a tiny bite with the side of his fork and pushing it around his plate.
    ‘Are you going to eat that?’ the male officer asked through a mouthful of waffle. ‘Cause it looks delicious. I’m starting to wish I had ordered it.’
    Zack put down his fork, the morsel uneaten. He opened his mouth to speak when the cellphone in his pocket chirped.
    The two officers exchanged glances as Zack reached a trembling hand into his pocket, his fingers sliding over the tiny gun until they wrapped around the plastic phone. He flipped the phone open and held it to his ear.
    ‘New friends?’ asked the distorted voice.
    ‘What of it?’ Zack’s voice was void of emotion as he automatically scanned the restaurant, searching the faces of the other diners, trying to find who didn’t belong.
    ‘You don’t want to talk