“Not that young,” Hillbilly said.

“You look young.”

“Have any food?” Hillbilly asked.

“Just them fish in the doorway,” said the bearded man. “You want that, have at it.”

“I don’t think so,” Hillbilly said. “Ever seen that kind of thing before? Raining fish? I read about it. It was that cyclone. It sucked out a pond somewhere, throwed them fish all along here.”

The men had no interest in the cyclone or the fish. The bearded man grinned at Hillbilly. Hillbilly had seen friendlier grins on alligators.

“You been on the road a while?” said the bearded man.

“A while.”

“Gets lonely, don’t it?” said the man with the cap.

“I’m not that lonely, really.”

“We get lonely,” said the bearded man. “Me and him just being together. We get all kinds of lonely. Man don’t need to be lonely. Don’t have to be.”

“I’m not lonely at all,” Hillbilly said.

The man with the cap said, “We can show you that you been lonely and didn’t even know it.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

The man with the cap laughed. “It ain’t really you we’re worried about. It’s us that are lonely.”

“You got each other,” Hillbilly said.

“Having each other all the time gets old,” the bearded man said. “We want someone else to not be lonely with.”

“God don’t like that kind of talk. You boys ever hear about Sodom and Gomorrah?”

The bearded man hooted. “Who gives a damn about some Bible story? We get you bent over, you’ll be happier than you think.”