He told her it was good and refreshing, and he wasn’t lying. In those few moments during which he could set his concerns aside and simply concentrate on picking vegetables or carrying firewood, the unencumbered nature of the work contrasted nicely with the heavy thinking that’d been his primary occupation since Callie got sick.

Cecilia smacked him on the back happily, saying, “I can’t get enough of it myself. The work’s so pure, you understand? It feels as if it’s exactly what God sent us here to do.”

Elliot shrugged and told her he supposed that was right. Cecilia left them then, reminding the men that it was only an hour before lunch and they’d better not be late because the women had poured sweat–and a good many of the vegetables they were picking right now–into a truly fabulous stew. “You’ll need your energy,” she told them, “because you boys have just as much work to do this afternoon.”

And they did. Lunch’s stew wasn’t fabulous but it filled Elliot adequately, even if the conversation accompanying it was thin. The citizens of Nahom had adopted a stand-off attitude toward their two guests, almost as if they trusted Elliot and Evajean as little as Elliot trusted them. But there was also a curiosity on display, a sense that these people expected something of the two of them and were waiting to see if it happened. Elliot hoped he disappointed them.

That afternoon was more of the same, though several of the morning’s men didn’t return to vegetable gathering but, rather, prepared for the evening’s events. And those events, when they came, troubled Elliot and shifted his perspective more than he could have possibly imagined.

Around four o’clock, with the sun drawing close to the valley’s western ridge, the harvest chores ceased and Elliot wandered away to find Evajean. She was sitting at a round table with four other women, all chatting and laughing while they skinned potatoes and gouged seeds out of pumpkins. As he came up, Evajean set down her small knife and walked over to meet him. “Okay,” she said, “I get it now. These people creep me out.“

He shrugged. “It’s pumpkins.”

“No. No, it’s not just the pumpkins.” She had leaned in close and was whispering. “They don’t talk about anything, Elliot. It’s like they don’t even think about stuff. I mean, we’ve been here for, what, for three hours and all we’ve discussed is how great supper’s going to be and how nice it is of the men to be doing the harvest, and not even a word–not a word–about how there’s a funeral tonight for eight men killed by zombies.”

“Let’s go over here,” he said, and lead her away from the women and towards a small grove of trees by the edge of the town square. In the center of the square, a dozen of Nahom’s citizens were setting up chairs and a podium. “They won’t be able to hear us,” he said. Then, “See? You see what I mean now? There’s something wrong with this place, Evajean. Wrong beyond just fundamentalists living out in the woods. I keep getting this feeling like they already know about us, like they were expecting us.”

Evajean waved her hands. “Me too!” she said. “This one woman, not Cecilia but one named Shirley… Weeks, I think. Shirley Weeks. She’s been watching me. I keep catching her doing it and then she looks away, but I know she was watching me. I can feel her eyes, you know?”

“I know,” he said.

“And other people are doing the same thing. Like this little girl”–Elliot had flashes of the laughing girl in the forest just before he’d had his first encounter with the woman in red–”who’s always peeking at me from behind things. I’m freaking out is what I’m saying and I want to leave. Now.”

“We can’t,” Elliot said and, before she could start up again, he added, “We need them to help us get the truck back up on the road and they won’t do that until after this funeral’s taken care of. I talked with their leader, a guy named Jeffry–Uncle Jeffry, they call him–and that’s what he told me.”

Evajean shook her head. “Tomorrow. Elliot, I don’t know if I can wait until tomorrow. What if you’re right and something’s going on here. You said about the treasure hunting, how strange it was, and what if they’re into even weirder stuff? What if they plan to hurt us–or sacrifice us?”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Elliot said, and waved cheerfully at one of the women who was watching them from the table. Was that Shirley? he thought. “I don’t think these people are into that kind of stuff. But I don’t know what their plan is and I think we should just concentrate now on getting through without anything bad happening until we can get the truck working again and go back to driving to Colorado.”

“But what if they don’t help us with the truck?” she asked. “What if they have no intention of us going to Colorado. I don’t know why I’m so scared, Elliot, but I am.” Then she said, sounding embarrassed, “I feel like I’m hysterical.”

“You’re not,” he said. “At least, I don’t think you are. I think you’re picking up the same stuff I am and it’s not good, whatever it is. But let’s stay together, not let them divide us up, and I’m sure we can make it through until tomorrow morning. They’ve got the funeral keeping them busy.”

But Evajean wasn’t buying it. She’d picked up that suspicious bug that had kept him on edge since he’d arrived in the town, and she appeared to be suffering from it far worse. Elliot didn’t know why it’d taken her so long to notice the oddness of Nahom and he was glad she did now, but he had to keep a lid on it or she’d blow whatever cover they had left.