Went up the hill to check on the tomatoes and squash I planted, but ended up countin’ cars instead. Saw three in the space of an hour, doin’ their slow prowl along the valley road. I marked ‘em down in my book. They showed up out of the blue five weeks ago and they’ve driven this circuit seven times now, twice in the past three days. Their engine sounds roll across the valley and everything else goes quiet. All the scavengers that pick through the abandoned houses down there take off. Two or three quiet days go by and the scavvies’ campfires dot the night again, just as soon as they know the lions have left the water hole. Ain’t that always the way. I’m takin’ off, too, but I ain’t comin’ back. Whatever they’re doing down there, it’s time I put some distance between me and them. Maybe it’s time to head up north and rebuild the treehouse. No tomatoes or squash, I should note. Deer come by and ate ‘em down to the ground. Ain’t that always the way.