It was one day short of a full moon, and the early summer sky was cloudless. The crickets and frogs were out in full force, the humidity thick, almost dripping from the trees. The occasional scream of an animal in its death throes sounded like the banshee of Irish folklore: the sound of death.

A sputtering streak of fire, faint at first, then becoming bright and dangerous as it passed across the sky, cut a nearly straight line parallel to the horizon. Then it arced downward, towards the trees. There was a soft whump as the object touched the ground and skidded a good distance across a clearing before it came to rest barely fifty feet from the towering fir trees at the end of its path. There was no one to hear the agonizing moans of the beings inside.

At least, not at first...

Joe Landzlodt knew his sister was crabby today. His brother-in-law, Cyrus Roberts, tipped him off. But then, Cy had been crabby all day, too. When Joe's sister was crabby, it was a sure bet that Cy was equally upset.

Joe pulled his Ford Explorer into his sister's driveway and reluctantly got out. He knew what was coming. Damn! He tried not to slam the truck's door in anger, but failed.

Joe's heart lurched in his chest as he walked into the kitchen. Carol was leaning against the edge of the kitchen sink, her eyes alarmingly and deeply sad. Even the bright sun streaming through the window couldn't erase the grief so clear in her eyes. Joe felt sick for her; she was not doing well. "Sis...?" He reached for her.

She sank into Joe's arms and wept.

He rocked back on his heels, trying to absorb her pain; to take it from her. "I know he's having problems today, Carol. You have to try to be patient. I know it's hard, but he can't help it. You know he can't help it." Joe held his sister against his chest, trying to offer what comfort he could. He knew it wasn't much.

Her voice trembled with tears. "He's really bad today, Joe. He was bad yesterday, and the day before, and..." She broke down and wept again, sobbing into his shirt.

He looked down at her hair. He wanted to save her from the neighborhood bully, just as he used to do when they were kids. "Where is he?" he asked softly.

"Check his bedroom," she nearly spat.

"What's he doing? Drawing?"

"How should I know?" She had spit the words out with an unsettling ferocity. "I don't care anymore..."

"You can't mean that."

She looked up at him, hard anger in her eyes. "Didn't you hear me?! I don't care. I don't give one damn. Not one Goddamn. How much is a mother expected to endure, Joe?"

"Carol, you knew he had problems before you got him. Your eyes were open to it. You can't shut him out now." He hated saying that but she had to hear it. Even though she knew it, she had to hear it again.

Releasing her from his supportive embrace, Joe turned and started up the stairs.

"Where's Cy?" Carol asked, accusingly. "He couldn't stand to come home, could he? His shrew of a wife is too much for him. I'm a failure, Joe. Cy can't look at me because I've failed Timmy. Cy doesn't love me anymore."

"Carol, he's still at the office," Joe said with mustered patience. "You know we're bidding on that big job tomorrow. He's just trying to get our ducks in a row. He said to tell you he'd be home soon." He turned back up the stairs.

Carol sat down wearily on a kitchen chair. "I can't take it anymore, Joe. Timmy is going to wear me down to nothing." Carol choked on a sob. "I wish I were dead."

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