If he’d awoken in the middle of the night and stumbled across the scene it might have seemed peaceful, but there was something unnerving at the lack of lit windows beyond the railroad tracks. The glass panes now seemed to stare him down, sockets without eyes.
The rum was doing an excellent job of warming her against the chill of the lake breeze. Somewhere in the darkness, down where the lapping water worked at an embankment overrun with grasses, a bullfrog began to croon a long and low note.
“Do you think Dad will be okay?” Ester had asked, and Monica and Haaken were quick to assure her he’d be fine, then they’d offered up a blackboard game of Tic-Tac-Toe to keep her mind from the blood they’d all witnessed on the sand.
This is how I heard the story, and I’ve got good reason to believe it – which I’ll get to. It starts with five kids running across town – this town, Jackfish – or, at least, the town that once stood here.