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his sick buddy, Mike.
    * * *
    I grabbed my gun and house keys.
    This old house had those cool, custom keys that would lock doors from both inside and out. I’d never liked them before...but now I was glad. I locked the glass doors to the tiled patio, then stepped out of the bedroom and left my brother Joe in the corner. I turned toward Anna’s room and froze.
    Mike was standing in the middle of the dark hall.

Chapter Eight
    He didn’t recognize me.
    He just stood there, staring into space.
    I approached cautiously. “ Hey, Mike.”
    No response. He stood stone-still. I moved carefully around him and opened Anna’s door. She was sleeping. I thanked the gods for her safety. As I turned to leave, I tripped on the large stone she used as a doorstop. I cursed silently, but it was too late.
    “ Dad?” Her sleepy voice carried eerily into the hall. Mike was still standing there, but now his head was cocked to one side like he’d heard something.
    I faced her and put a finger to my lips. Anna saw my gun and drew her covers up tight.
    “ Honey, I don’t want to scare you,” I said softly. I slipped into her room and shut the door behind me. I sat down on her bed and kissed her forehead. She would have none of it, though.
    “What’s going on?” she whispered, pulling away.
    I didn’t know what to say. That I was afraid for my daughter because my brother and his Navy buddy seemed to be out of their minds?
    “Anna,” I began, keeping an eye on the closed door. Jesus, what the hell was going on? “Your uncle—and his friend—are ill. I think.”
    “But if they’re just sick, why do you need your gun?” Anna was always observant...and right to the point.
    “ I’m just going to make sure you’re safe.”
    We tensed at a scratch on the door. A slight pawing made me bristle—and caused me to squeeze my gun a little tighter. My gun? With my brother and his friend in the house? Maybe I was the one dreaming. Or the one ill. None of this made sense.
    Anna backed into her bed as much as she could, her eyes wide, the color gone from her cheeks. “ Daddy, what is that? Is it Uncle Joe? Is he okay?”
    It wasn’t Uncle Joe, I knew. And he wasn’t okay. Nor was his buddy, Mike, who was going insane just like my brother. But I was the father, the protector.
    “ Sweetie, I think they have some rare infection—”
    “From what?”
    “I don’t know.”
    I recalled my brother’s words: “I don’t think we should have touched it.”
    Jesus, what the hell had they touched?
    “What are you going to do, Daddy?”
    I thought about it. “For starters, I’m locking you in here. Don’t let anyone but me in, okay?”
    “You’re not locking me in! ”
    “ Just for five minutes, honey. I promise you. I want to get those two, ah, settled. They can’t think straight, and they are agitated.”
    She nodded, her eyes big and round and reflecting what little ambient light was in the room. “ Is Uncle Joe all right?”
    “ He will be.” I prayed that this was true. “I’ll make sure. I just need you to stay put for five minutes. I promise I’ll be back.”
    She was almost on the verge of tears now, forcing control. “Okay.”
    On impulse, I handed her my gun. “Trade you for your knife?”
    She took the gun in her hand, feeling its weight. She knew how to shoot; I’d taught her. I could tell she was conflicted between fear and comfort. She reached under her pillow, handed me her Bowie knife. Like father, like daughter.
    Another scratch at the door. “Get behind your bed,” I ordered.
    She silently complied, slipping out of her covers and wedging herself between the wall and bed.
    “I’ll be back in less than five minutes.”
    Peeking over the ruffled comforter, she looked up at me. “And if you’re not?”
    “I will be .”
    * * *
    It all happened at once.
    As I opened the door, I shoved Mike hard across the wall, and turned to lock Anna’s bedroom door. Anna, good girl, made no sound. Mike was dazed at first.