“We could, but he’s probably too busy with the town getting washed away.”

They had been listening to the radio on the way home, then. Sherman wondered if they understood what might be happening down in the river valley as the water passed on and the town reemerged. What was left of the town, anyway.

“The other option would be to drive him back to town and drop him off at one of the refugee camps I’m sure the sheriff is setting up. Those people will need to go somewhere now that their homes are gone.”

“Please don’t,” Sherman said. His family had been going away from town. He needed to figure out where they were first. Whoever was in those refugee camps would hate him anyway. He wasn’t sure he could survive. There weren’t enough deputies to keep the peace if the people really wanted to lynch him. He wasn’t sure the deputies wouldn’t participate.

“Saying sorry is admitting that you made a mistake. It’s only proper that you do something to atone for that mistake,” Renee said. The way she set her lips reminded Sherman of the old movies with the one-room school teachers scolding a student. “Atonement isn’t meant to be pleasant.”

“I can’t go back to town,” Sherman said. “They hate me.”

“They don’t hate you,” the woman said. “You’re exaggerating.”

Sherman knew he wasn’t mistaken. He remembered how folk in town looked at them as he and his mother would walk through the grocery store. He had overheard them muttering about them being weird.

He was always chosen last in school. One time, in kindergarten, the school lined up all the students outside and selected participants for the school play. He ended up standing outside by himself after everyone else had been selected and gone in. One of the teachers found him outside beside the big tree, crying because he had been forgotten. She led him inside and had him sit in the corner. He never did have a part in the play.

“We’ve had threats left in our mailbox,” he said. “They really do hate my family.”

“A little hell now to save you from a lot of hell later,” she said. “The high water has come and gone. Hell shouldn’t be far behind.”

This woman was crazy. Looney. So logical and out of whack at the same time.

“We could always lock him up in the cage downstairs,” Glen said. “Wait for the sheriff to finish dealing with the town.”

That would be better than being among the town folk, but it wouldn’t get him closer to his family.

“That would give me more time to figure out what’s on this pad.”

Glen looked down at Sherman.

“I figure you won’t want me nosing around in your stuff, so I’ll just do it without you.”

“Can I just leave in the morning?” Sherman asked. “I don’t want to be any trouble. I’m trying to find my family.”

“If you hadn’t wanted to cause any trouble, you wouldn’t have entered the house. You would have just kept on going when you came upon the place.”

“We’ll have to call the sheriff anyway to come out and get the thing I shot. He’ll dispose of it without anyone knowing it was around.”

Is that what happened to the failures? Quietly swept away without even Gramps knowing they were around? That would explain why Gramps always seemed frustrated with the program. He knew there were failures, but he couldn’t get access to them to find out why they failed.

“I’ll help you clean up everything if you’ll let me and my dog head on our way in the morning,” Sherman said. Before anyone could cut him off, he continued. “I know it’s late. I’m tired. You’re tired. But the sooner we get things taken care of, the sooner we can all get some sleep. The sooner I can be out of here.”

Glen and Renee looked at each other.

“Help me get that monster out of here, and we’ll see,” Glen said. “I’m going to lock you in the cage while Renee and I change out of our clothes. We don’t want to get them messed up. Dry cleaning is a bitch these days.”

Glen grabbed Sherman by the back of his shirt. “Come on.”

Sherman felt himself get yanked out of the chair. He didn’t know if they were tired, but he was. Adrenaline was all that kept him going at this point.

Glen marched him down the stairs and past the monster lying on the floor. Blood had stopped oozing out, and the gray stuff seemed to be solidifying, like old bacon grease. Glen pushed Sherman into the cage and closed the door.

“We can’t have you running around the house. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said.

Glen squeezed the lock in his palm and spun the dial, jerking it to make sure it was closed.

“Don’t want you thinking you can get out.”

Sherman didn’t like having to trust Glen, but it wasn’t like he had a choice in the matter. Glen was going to lock him in the cage so he and Renee could change clothes without worrying about Sherman, or he was going to lock him in the cage until the sheriff could come out. Either way, he was stuck.

The monster was facing him. Its eyes were still and unfocused. A little drool hung from its mouth. Its skin had gone from gray to white—not marble. It was too ugly to be a sculpture except in a crazy person’s house, which might be where he was anyway.

Sherman could hear the two talking upstairs. The ceiling was good at muffling the sound enough that he couldn’t understand what was being said.