He walked along the wide brick sidewalk on a windy March evening, and knew he couldn’t let it happen again.

Cal was probably still at the bowling alley, Fox thought. He’d go there, have a beer, maybe an early dinner. And maybe the two of them could figure out which direction to try next.

As he approached the Square, he saw Layla come out of Ma’s Pantry across the street, carrying a plastic bag. She hesitated when she spotted him, and that planted a sharp seed of irritation in his gut. After she sent him a casual wave, they walked to the light at the Square on opposite sides of the street.

It might have been that irritation, or the frustration of trying to decide to do what would be natural for him-to wait on his side of the corner for her to cross and speak to her. Or to do what he felt, even with the distance, she’d prefer. For him to simply keep going up Main so they didn’t intersect. Either way, he was nearly at the corner when he felt the fear-sudden and bright. It stopped him in his tracks, had his head jerking up.

There, on the wires crossing above Main and Locust, were the crows.

Dozens of them crowded together in absolute stillness along the thin wire. Hulking there, wings tucked and-he knew-watching. When he glanced across the street, he saw that Layla had seen them, too, either sensing them herself or following the direction of his stare.

He didn’t run, though there was an urgent need to do just that. Instead he walked in long, brisk strides across the street to where she stood gripping her white plastic bag.

“They’re real.” She only whispered it. “I thought, at first, they were just another… but they’re real.”

“Yeah.” He took her arm. “We’re going inside. We’re going to turn around, and get inside. Then-”

He broke off as he heard the first stir behind him, just a flutter on the air. And in her eyes, wide now, huge now, he saw it was too late.