The hot pain in May’s left side woke her. For a moment she was paralyzed, only able to flick her tongue across parched lips. She tasted salt from dried tears.

The freaks are out again tonight. I hear them howling. I hear branches cracking off trees. There were out last night, too. It has been warm and heat draws them to the streets. It’s been like this since the war, or since the raids, but really it started with the slave ships.

It was dark, and the party was going to start on the other side of the freshly-plowed south pasture anytime. Bob impatiently stomped through the damp earth toward the Thompson Farm.