She survived donkey basketball. Now she just had to make it to fall break, so she could spend her time trying to stack her Etsy story with polymer clay earrings. Tiny hermit crabs were big sellers. The car whined when she tried to push it past sixty, but she made it home in record time. The sun started to set, darkness loomed, summer waned. When she hit the white rock road to their trailer, she felt she had passed a barrier, she was safe.

No truck in the driveway, so Ry was still out on his gigs. Every day he brought home tales of fresh horror. Shoveling shit here, pressure washing raccoon blood from a porch there, and one time an old man just asked him to dance. For forty-five minutes, according to Ry, he danced to 90s country while an old man wept. Best money he'd made since being laid off.

Once she made the turn, she could see the white minivan parked in the ditch. Which meant only one thing. Elisabeth was out there cursing God again.

Before they moved into the trailer, when they believed things could be good, a car of teens celebrating their graduation slammed into a telephone pole. One kid was killed. Ornate crosses, flowers, and framed photos piled at the foot of the pole. Elizabeth was a constant presence. They kept a box fan bedside to drown out her ravings.

Elizabeth wore a frayed, oversized t-shirt and jeans, and didn't wear shoes. Her hair was a long nest of gray, her face carved into granite. Grief reshaped her in ways time could only dream of.

She was never sure whether it was polite or rude to wave to Elizabeth, so she kept her eyes trained on the porch of the trailer. Insects circled the porch light. She parked the car and West Donaghy greeted her with a bounce, tail wagging furiously. She could hear Elizbeth down the road.

"You can't hide from me!" Elizabeth screeched. "One day I'll day, and my Evan and I will have some words with you!"

"Has she been at this long?" Erin asked the dog, who pawed at her legs.

When school started, it felt like fall, even amid the oppressive heat. There would be no cool weather until Halloween night, as was custom. Green leaves, dead grass, and burning sun. But this evening felt cool. Erin thought about a walk with West Donaghy.

The dog stopped wagging his tail, and his hair bristled. He growled.

"Westy?" Erin asked.

He lowered his head, pointing his snout to the trees on the other side of the road.

She heard a rustle in the tall grass. Twigs snapped and leaves crunched underfoot. She tried to make out what was in the trees, but there was only darkness. Not even a single leaf would sway. Sometimes out here, she could see the stars, a brilliant spray of gleaming white spots. She would be in awe, she belonged out here.

Then she could hear the yelps and cries of the coyotes. Sometimes different sounds, like a woman screaming. A mountain lion, she assumed. But sometimes a roar. A long and drawn-out cry that would send West Donaghy under the table, curled up and whining.

The lion? Was it real?

Jackson's bigfoot? She would laugh in the day, but standing here in the dark, she was aware of just how far she was from her neighbors. How long it would take an ambulance or squad car to make their property? How much defense could a thin sheet of trailer siding provide? She could scream and the only ears to reach it would be indifferent.

We were all prey once, weren't we? One would assume some part of us never forgot. It's why we shiver in the dark.

"Hello?" Erin called.

"Never you mind!" Elizabeth yelled. "This is between me and Him!"

"I'm not talking to you, Elizabeth."

"Then who are you talking to?"

"Whoever is in the trees? I don't know? Let's each go back to yelling at invisible people."

"Invisible? You need Jesus."

"The same one you're threatening to destroy when you die?"

Elizabeth shook her head. She stomped to her van and peeled away. As the taillights vanished and the crunch of white rock subsided, the air took on a chill. The sounds in the trees returned. West Donaghy started back to the trailer, then would run back to Erin, and move back again. Follow me, idiot.

"Good idea, Westworld. We're going inside."

She wondered when Ry would be home.