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Rufus tied the boat to the moorings and stepped down onto the dock. He offered a hand to the young woman, helped her out of the boat, and then her husband.

"You two should go on ahead," he said. "There’s a slough back there."

He waved toward the dense foliage behind the shack.

"Straight through those trees. Tide’s out, so it’s dry now. You follow that a ways, and you’ll come out on a tidal flat. Trek across the flat for a mile and a half, scramble over the dunes, and you’ll find yourself on a deserted beach that’s just as pretty as a picture."

"You going to show us—"

"We’ll be right behind you, but you might as well get a head start. It’s quite a hike."

"What about the ghost village?" Steve asked. "We really want to—"

"We’ll take you there, too, so don’t you worry. It’ll be part of the loop we do."

The young couple set out down the dock, past the shack, and into the pines. We all watched them for a moment, making slow progress as they bushwhacked their way through the brush, glancing back now and then to see if we were coming. When they’d disappeared into the thicket, Rufus looked back into the boat at Vi and me. Grinning, he reached into his pocket and tossed me a key.

"Opens the shack," he said. "I think you remember it, Andy, but don’t worry—no grizzly trap this time. Just a pump-action Remington under the bunk bed and a box of shells on the table. On account of your limp, you might want to get a move on."

I struggled to my feet.

Vi was bawling again.

"Let’s go," I said.

She shook her head.

Grabbing her under the arm, I tried to muscle her to her feet, but she collapsed across the deck. I knelt beside her and whispered into her ear, "Vi, walk off this boat with me. Whatever you have to do to steel yourself up for this, now’s the time. They’ll kill your baby."

She wiped her eyes and looked up at me, then nodded, came to her feet.

We stood there, gazing at Rufus.

He said, "We’ll come help you carry them back when we hear the gunshots."

I started toward the dock, but Rufus held up his hand.

"Wait. Wanna tell you something. I’ve lived out on these barrier islands going on forty years now. Seen a few folks try to do what you’re about to do and fail. Let me tell you this. If you haven’t shattered those values, if you’re still seeing this world through good and evil glasses, it’s going to be hell out there. These are the Outer Banks. The fringe of America. Fringe of thought. Most people aren’t hard enough, pure enough to exist out here. It’s uncomfortable. They’d rather live inland. Safe from the sea. From themselves. But this is where the action is. I hope that isn’t lost on you."

Rufus stepped forward and gave us each a hand down onto the dock. We could hear the doomed couple thrashing about in the thicket.

I glanced at Luther. He stared at me, eyes black and smoldering.

I started limping along up the dock.

We reached the shack. I unlocked the door and stepped inside, told Vi to fetch the shotgun from under the bed. It was right where Rufus had said it would be, a twelve gauge with a twenty-eight inch barrel. She set it down on the table as I tore open the box of shells.

"Double-aught buckshot," she said. "My God, this is going to be messy."

I slid four shells into the chamber, the stench of gunpowder filling the shack.

"Ever handled a shotgun?" I asked.

"My daddy owned several. Taught me to shoot when I was fifteen."

I handed her the weapon.

"Part of me," she whispered, "wants to say fuck this whole business, head back down to the boat and just start blasting."

"We’d die and your child would die."

I glanced out the window.

Luther was perched on the bow, aiming a high-powered rifle with a scope at me through the glass.

"Look out there," I said. "We’d be dead the second we started for the boat."

Vi sat down in a chair, sighed long and deep. She sweated through her thin white T-shirt.

"Ever kill someone in the line of duty?" I asked.

"Never even had the occasion to draw my gun.