Ivan had parked the van in the empty parking lot outside of a bowling alley. He had been around the city all night, keeping the van in motion to make Mama a moving target. By the time the first scattered, confused reports of attacks started to reach him by cell phone and CB, it had already almost been over.

“A census takes time,” Ivan said. “Some groups that have not reported in yet may simply be in hiding.

“Preliminary estimate?”

“At least ten percent.”

“Ten percent,” Mama echoed. She felt the need to sit down, before realizing that she was. “In one night.”

“Decimation,” Ivan said.

Mama nodded.

“Whoever did this was smart,” she said. “They knew how to flush us out in the open and knew where we’d make our camps, or knew how to find us quickly. They had magic, too. Strong magic. It’s just a good thing that each of the groups that were targeted had at least one witch or shaman with them. We lucked out there.”

“Yes,” Ivan said. “About that.”

Mama said nothing, but waited for him to speak.

“You say ‘each group’ that was attacked had magic,” Ivan said. “Could you not also say ‘only groups with magic’ were attacked?”

“Then you think they were targeted,” Mama said.

Ivan shook his head.

“You attribute the survivors’ good fortune to our magic-users,” Ivan said. “They could have done more damage by going after the groups that didn’t have such resources, if they had the choice.”

“No,” Mama said, shaking her head. “Drop this line of thinking.”

“They were vulnerable,” Ivan said. “Because of the magic. It makes things… softer. Less predictable. We’d be better off without it.”

“War’s coming,” Mama said. “We have to stand together. We need magic. We need whatever help we can get.”

“We’ve been attacked. War is not coming,” Ivan said. “It is already here.”

“But don’t you hate to think that after everything, we might just be a couple of misplaced shaggy dogs?” Michael said.

“Who’s a shaggy dog?” Stephen asked, self-consciously feeling his own stubbled face.

“As in, a shaggy dog story,” Michael said.

“Isn’t that just like a fish story?” Stephen asked. “A tall tale?”

“More like a long one,” Michael said. “A shaggy dog story is a joke told as a rambling, repetitive story with no real point.”

“How is that a joke?” Stephen asked.

“Humor comes from the conflict between our cultivated expectation and delivered result,” Michael said. “The lengthy, interminable build-up convinces the listener that the story’s payoff has got to be something huge or else it wouldn’t be worth telling. When you get to the end and there’s either a lame conclusion or none at all, all the tension that built up over the course of the telling is released as laughter.”

“And here I thought humor came from stuff being funny,” Stephen said. “I guess I’ve been doing it wrong my whole life.”

“The point is… well there is no point,” Michael said angrily. “No point to anything we’ve done tonight!”

“Well, look,” Stephen said. “You believe in fate and stuff, don’t you? Destiny?”

“I’d like to believe in destiny,” Michael said. “I’d love to believe I have one.”

“So, there you go,” Stephen said. “Maybe whatever you’re destined for, or we’re destined for, or whatever, is going to happen later.”

“That still doesn’t give any point to tonight,” Michael said.

“But if you have a future destiny, then everything that leads up to it is part of it,” Stephen said. “Like, maybe by coming here tonight and stumbling around like a pair of idiots we avoided some danger… we were kept safe for whatever the future holds.”

Michael stood at him as if in wonder… then shook his head.

“You really are an idiot.”

“Nobody relax just yet,” Detweiler said. “We got caught with our shirt down back there… I don’t want it happening again.”

“Pants,” Lee corrected.

“What?”

“Pants down,” Lee said.

“You know what I mean,” Detweiler said. “We lost good people back there.”

“Half the group,” Lee said.

“Was it that many?” Detweiler asked. “It seems like less… Bornheim and the newbie left on their own, and then… then what? Who disappeared after that? We’re going to need an accounting.”

“I’m not sure who went first,” Lee said. “We were just counting heads.”

“Right,” Detweiler said. He looked at the other five in the group, Adam the witch and what he thought of as the civilians. “You lot, what were the names of the others in our group?”

Blank stares and nervous glances met this question.

“The other guy who left was Steve or something,” one of them suggested.

“Right,” Lee said. “But who were the ones who were taken?”

“I don’t remember them,” Brenda said. “I can’t remember what any of them looked like…”

“Crap,” Detweiler said. “What the hell is this? Somebody has to know. We’ll have to report what happened.”

“Did anything really happen back there?” one of the men asked.

“We all saw it,” Lee said.

“What did we see, though?” he asked, to answering murmurs of things like “I didn’t see anything,” from the others. “I mean, maybe those two guys left on their own and the guards panicked.”

“Hey, I didn’t panic!” Detweiler said, more comfortable thinking that half the group had been lost to a real danger than entertaining the notion that he’d lost it over nothing. “We lost people tonight. People disappeared.”

“Leave it,” Adam said quietly. “For them, it didn’t happen… might be better that way.”

“Was it just our group?” Lee asked.

“What would be special about our group?” Adam asked. “I’d say anybody caught out in the open was vulnerable.”

“Or, all of tribe,” Lee noted.

Now, they seemed even more tightly knit than before and provided more resistance than would have been expected. Brenda, in the lead, almost pulled her hands free to force them aside.

“Keep the circle intact,” the witch said, tightening his grip on her hand. “We’ll push through the branches. Everybody just remember to keep focusing on whatever you were focusing on, where ever you were facing before. Concentrate.”

He began moving pulling the group towards the designated area, but the rest of the circle was conflicted and Brenda wasn’t helping. She felt panic rising up within her.

“Oh, God… what if it’s not just branches?” she asked, and then it seemed like it wasn’t just the branches pushing back, but something more… an impenetrable wall of force.. “What if something’s keeping us here until we…”

“Please,” Adam said. “Let’s not give each other ideas.”

“C’mon, what’s the hold up, magic man?” Detweiler asked.

“There’s something here,” Brenda said. “Stopping us from getting through.”

“The hell there is… rotate the circle, everyone,” Detweiler said. “I’ll get us through.”

“Um, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Lee said.

“No, it is,” Adam said. “Let him do it.”

“Right. Everybody, move to your left,” Lee said, and the group obeyed, turning until Detweiler was facing out.

Detweiler went forward, pushing the cold and brittle branches aside, snapping some off in the process.

“See?” he said. “Nothing.”

“There was a wall,” Brenda started to say.

“You panicked,” Lee said. “It’s okay.”

“But there was!” Brenda said.

Detweiler pushed his way through the thicket of trees with a pace that kept the others stumbling to keep up, but at last they were out and in the open park.

“The light,” Michael said.

“That’s not surprising, given that it’s in your hand,” Stephen said.

“No, I mean… you’re right,” Michael repeated. “You’re absolutely right.”

“Well, you don’t have to act all surprised,” Stephen said. “It’s been known to happen before. Anyway, what am I right about?”

“We have just been stumbling around in the dark,” Michael said. “Arguing about stupid side points, joking around… bantering.”

“Oh,” Stephen said. “Well, yeah. That’s what I said?”

“Don’t you see?” Michael said. “We’re not protagonists. I was right the first time.”

“So, even when I’m right about something, you’re still right first,” Stephen said. “I see how this works.”

“Oh, come off it,” Michael said. “I mean, we’re like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, stumbling around the edges of the plot without a clue what’s really going on. Whatever’s actually happening, whatever the real story is, we’re not going to bump into it in this dark hallway. We’ve lost the plot. We never had it.”

“But the sentry on the roof said the witch was expecting the protagonist,” Stephen pointed out. “Remember?”

“If either one of us were he, don’t you think we would have found her?” Michael said. “She isn’t here. Not for us, anyway. We’re not doing anything here but wasting our time. We might as well go back to the camp.”

“Are you sure?” Stephen said. “You seemed to know what you were doing before.”

“Actually, we could probaby go back to the house,” Michael said. “Whatever the crisis was, it’s probably resolved by now.”

“Well, if you insist.”

They turned around and headed back. There was a distant buzz and then lights came on overhead. The sudden brightness washed out their vision for a moment.

“Hey, look,” Stephen said when the spots cleared from his eyes. “We’re in the apartment hallway. Must’ve been a power outage, and we’ve just been stumbling around in circles. Go figure.”

“Yeah.” Michael sighed wistfully. “Go figure.”

“Everybody focus on your monster,” Adam said. “Right in front of you, too far out in the darkness to be seen. Okay? And when I say go…”

“When I say go,” Detweiler corrected. “Let’s keep some semblance of order here, okay? We have ranks for a reason.”

“We have ranks?” Lee asked.

“We’re soldiers, they’re civilians,” Detweiler said. “That’s all the rank I need.”

“So, when Mr. Detweiler says go, we all follow… well,” he turned his head to the woman who couldn’t think of anything.

“Brenda,” she supplied.

“We all follow Brenda, who’s thinking of nothing,” Adam said.

“We’re going to walk holding hands?” Detweiler asked.

“Yes,” Adam said. “We keep the circle together, seven of us for protection. It’s the only way.”

“Everybody clear on the plan?” Detweiler asked.

The group looked around at each other. Some of them nodded. Some of them coughed.

“I think we’re as ready as we’re going to be,” Lee said.

“Right,” Detweiler said. He looked at the witch. “Well?”

“I thought you were going to say it,” Adam said.

“I am,” Detweiler said. “I’m just waiting for you to say you’re all set, or whatever.”

“Oh,” Adam said. “Right. Well, yes, then. I think we’ve done what we can.”

“But what if…” a man said.

“Stow that talk,” Detweiler said sharply. “Whatever’s got you worried, keep it to yourself.”

“Can I say a prayer?” Brenda asked.

“Quickly,” Detweiler said. “Quietly.”

“Anybody who feels a need to pray, pray,” Lee said. When Detweiler audibly scoffed, he said, “Hey, it can’t hurt.”

“It’s good,” Adam said. “It should help.”

“Eveybody pray,” Detweiler ordered.

“Sincerity usually counts for something,” Adam said.

“And be sincere!” Detweiler barked.

“Thanks, Adam, I think that should just about do the trick,” Lee said.

“What?” the witch asked.

“His name’s Adam, too… remember?” Lee said.

“Oh.”

“Is everybody ready?” Adam asked.

“Ease off, sparky,” Detweiler said. “Is everybody ready?” Nods all around. “Can I say go?”

“Yes.”

“Go!”

“Or the wrong one,” Stephen said. “This whole thing could be a trap, you know.”

“A trap? We’re expected,” Michael said.

“That would work out really well, if somebody wanted to set a trap,” Stephen said. “It’s not like we know this witch, is it? She could have it in for us.”

“How could she have it in for us if we don’t even know her?”

“Well, she’s not exactly right in the head, is she?” Stephen said. “Aquarium in the toilet, peeing on the floor. Though I guess I should watch what I say, seeing as we are sort of guests in her house.”

“I don’t think this is hers, per se,” Michael said. “I don’t think it’s anybody’s. I think we’re somewhere a shaman told me about: the Behind, Between, and Below.”

“That’s funny,” Stephen said.

“What?”

“Schoolteacher, ending a sentence with three prepositions.”

Michael sighed.

“Leaving off that I was using a proper name, the reason for that rule is the fact that a ‘preposition’ is part of a phrase, and the very term ‘preposition’ means ‘positioned before’, meaning the rest of the phrase has to come after,” he said. “However, as most parts of speech are named for their function rather…”

“You know, I honestly didn’t care that much,” Stephen said. “Are we actually getting anywhere?”

“We’re bound to get somewhere, sooner or later,” Michael said.

“Are we?” Stephen asked. “It seems to me like we’re stumbling around in the dark arguing about… syntax and things.”

Michael, in the lead, stopped walking, and Stephen bumped into him.

“You’re right,” he said.

“Huh, you think?” Detweiler said. Standing in a circle with six other grown men and women made him feel even stupider than being afraid of some nebulous thing out in the dark had. Detweiler didn’t like to feel stupid. His brain rejected the emotion and defaulted to the more comfortable, more familiar alternative of anger.

“The problem is, how?” Lee asked. “Any which way we go, we’re blundering through the trees.”

“That’s where the monsters are!” a woman shrieked.

“First, we don’t know there’s more than one,” Adam said quickly. “In fact, we’ve only had singular attacks, so it seems extremely likely that it’s only one. Everybody focus on that.”

“Right,” Detweiler said. “Get that, everybody? Focus.”

“Believe it,” Lee said.

“Wait!” Adam said. “Don’t.”

“Don’t believe there’s only one thing out there?” Detweiler asked.

“Don’t everybody focus your belief on one monster,” Adam said. “Seven people in a circle focusing their belief on one monster… that’s a very bad recipe.”

“What are we supposed to do then, each focus on different ones?” Detweiler asked.

“Hey, you asked for my help and I’m… wait, that’s a good idea,” Adam said. “We all know that something is out there. We can’t deny that, unfortunately. But we don’t know what exactly it is, or where it is.”

“You’re not telling us anything we don’t know,” Detweiler complained.

“No, he is,” Lee said. “He’s telling us exactly what we don’t know. Everybody concentrate… imagine the thing out there is something.”

“What?” a man asked.

“Anything,” Adam said. “Whatever pops into your head. Something personal, something nobody else would think of… and don’t say it, whatever it is. Keep it to yourself.”

“Everybody got something?” Lee asked.

“I can’t… oh God, I can’t think of anything,” a woman said.

“Think of nothing, then,” Adam said. “And tell yourself that the monster is hiding right in front of you.”

“At least we’re not lost.”

“I’d rather have some choices.”

“Even if there were branches, we could only decide to take one each time,” Michael said. “Maybe there are branches and we’re seeing the only one we would decide to take, anyway?”

“That would mean there’s no free will,” Stephen said.

“Not necessarily,” Michael said. “Just that we make the choices we make for whatever reasons, with no do-overs.”

“That’s personal responsibility,” Stephen said. “That doesn’t mean there’s only one possible choice for each branch.”

“If somehow the universe and everything in it reset to how it was when we left the camp, would you make the decision to leave again?”

“Knowing what I know now?”

“No,” Michael said. “Knowing what you knew then. Everything is the same.”

“Well, I suppose I might still have decided differently,” Stephen said.

“With the exact same information, the same thoughts in your head, and the same outside impetus acting upon you, you really think you might arrive at a different conclusion?” Michael asked.

“It could happen.”

“Why?” Michael asked. “How?”

“Quantum uncertainty,” Stephen said. “The electrons in my brain would be different.”

“We reset those, too.”

“You can’t reset things at a quantum level. It’s impossible.”

“We’ve already granted me the power to reset the entire universe,” Michael said. “How can doing this at a particular level of subatomic detail boggle the imagination in a way that rearranging all of creation in the first place doesn’t?”

“Because it’s science.”

“Very well, then, leaving all of that aside for the moment… do you actually feel a universe where your thoughts and actions are the result of random fluctuations is somehow less inimical to free will than one in which your decisions can be perfectly predicted?”

“Well, yeah,” Stephen said. “If nobody could predict what I’m going to do, then nothing’s set in stone. That’s free will.”

“By that logic, epileptics are the most free of all.”

“Um, everybody holds hands!” the other witch cried. He was met with blank and confused stares from the other survivors. “Quick, before it comes back.”

“Alright,” Adam Detweiler said, as the group linked their hands in a messy knot with many arms crossing over each other. “We’re holding hands. Why?”

“We’re being hunted,” the witch said. “Some… some kind of stalking beast. You can sometimes fool large predators by appearing bigger than you actually are.”

“So instead of eight helpless little animals, we’re one big one,” Percival Lee said. “Will that work?”

“I think so,” the witch said. “I’m just spitballing so far.”

“Right,” Detweiler said. “So, what else have you got?”

“Uh… I’m thinking,” the witch said. He was a young man… maybe eighteen, maybe younger.

“What’s your name, kid?” Lee asked.

“Adam,” the witch said.

“No shit? That’s my name,” Detweiler said. “Come on, though, seriously… what else?”

“Right, um… let’s try to get in a circle, facing out,” Adam the witch said.

“So we can see it coming?” Detweiler asked. “Whatever’s out there seems invisible.”

“It’s the principle of perception,” Adam said. “If we can clearly see that it’s not coming, it might not be able to.”

The group hurriedly rearranged themselves into a ring.

“This is insane, it will never work,” a woman said. The whole circle was jerked off balance as she was suddenly whisked away with barely a chance to scream.

“Close the gap!” Lee shouted. “She’s gone.”

“We’re down to seven,” a man moaned.

“Seven’s good,” Adam said quickly. “Lucky… it’s a strong number. We’re safe now. Everybody remember that. Believe it. We’re safe now.”

“Safe for now, you mean,” Detweiler said. “Do you really picture us standing here until sunrise like this?”

“It’s a start,” Lee said. “We’ve got breathing room now… a little space to think.”

“Let’s start thinking, then,” Detweiler said. “And let’s do it fast.”