"I don't know," Sunset said.

Bull stood up, said, "Keep the ten-gauge, Zendo. That'll be good company. I think the constable's right. We take it to them. It was me, I'd have done that from the start. Then again, I ain't no law."

"They'll be so busy with us," Lee said, "they won't be thinking about you, Zendo."

"If I didn't feel you were safe, I wouldn't ask you to keep Karen with you," Sunset said. "But again, we don't come back, go, and take Karen away from here too."

"Oh, Mama," Karen said.

"We'll be back," Sunset said. "I'm just saying."

"Goose, he ain't gonna be back, now, is he?" Karen said.

"You got to be strong," Sunset said.

"I'm scared," Zendo said. "I won't lie to you none."

"We're all scared," Sunset said. "And I'm tired of being scared and confused, accused of things I didn't do. Tired of bigwigs and tough guys cheating and stealing and killing, and I'm tired of my not knowing one of my own constables was a liar and a bastard. They killed a boy, Goose. A good boy. They killed one of their own, shot him while he was chained to a post. And they killed my dog."

They gathered round and passed out guns. All of them took twelve-gauge pumps and a box of shells. They took some of the shells and loaded the guns and put spare shells in their pockets.

Sunset made sure her .38 had six shells in it. She and Bull were the only ones with handguns. Sunset gave hers to Karen, said, "Don't shoot yourself."

Sunset turned to Bull and Lee, said, "Bull, Daddy, by the power invested in me, you are now deputy constables."

"Damn, that count for a colored?" Bull asked.

"Does today," Sunset said.

The pig grunted. Clyde said, "That is one swell pig. I was you, I wouldn't eat it."

When they came out of the little house to get in the car, there was a sound in the air like a great sigh. Looking up, they could see the moon was hidden by a flow of grasshoppers, and the sound of them grew louder, from a sigh to a buzz to a hum that reminded them of the great saw up on the hill in Camp Rapture. They couldn't know it at the time, but the grasshoppers had already descended on Zendo's field. There would be no need for him to work it again this summer, for in a matter of minutes, the dark wave of insects had come down with the moonlight and eaten out the field, leaving nothing but roots and dirt. Then they had moved on, filling the sky above Sunset and her posse.

Sunset drove, Clyde beside her; in the backseat were Bull and Lee. Daylight was coming and the black sky was lightening, and as they drove the windshield became so littered with bugs Sunset had to stop and get a stick and scrape them off. She used a rag she had in the glove box to wipe the glass, but all it did was smear. As she cleaned the windshield, bugs hit her, stinging her flesh. They had to stop three times so they could clean the windshield, taking turns, Clyde next, then Lee.

When the sky became lighter they saw an amazing sight.

The landscape had changed and the world was void of greenery. The trees were like the skeletons of giants that had fallen from heaven, poking bones every which way. Low down was the same. Green had gone to gray and brown and the song of the hoppers ebbed and flowed as they ate their way through the dry summer morning and the bugs struck the car so hard Sunset could see paint chip off.

They fought the road and fought the bugs and drove on slowly into Holiday, where the first strong light of morning showed the streets and buildings were entwined with waves of insects, and up on the hill, the overhang above the drugstore, even as they watched, the greenery disappeared, like some kind of conjurer's trick.

They drove past the apartment, over to the sheriff's office, jumped out. They ran a gauntlet of bugs that was like an ocean wave. The wave knocked Sunset down and staggered the others, except for Bull. They went in the front door of the sheriff's office, one at a time, guns ready.

Plug sat behind his desk, as if waiting on them. His hands were in plain sight, resting on the desktop. Sunset yelled and stuck the shotgun under his chin.

Plug said, "Go on. Do it. I didn't hurt nobody, but do it."

"I saw you," Clyde said.

"But I didn't want no part of it. I got away from them when we got back to town. But I didn't know nowhere to come but here. I don't got nowhere to go. And I didn't shoot nobody. Nobody at all."

"Consider yourself under arrest," Sunset said. "I'm the law now. And be damn glad of it."

Plug got up, lifted by the shotgun barrel at his throat. Sunset pushed him backward toward the cells.

"Where are the keys?" she asked.

"In the drawer," he said.

Lee got them. They put Plug inside and locked the cell door. Sunset said, "I want to just cut down on you. I want to kill you, Plug. Goose, he wasn't nothing but a boy."

"I didn't kill nobody and didn't want to," Plug said, sitting down heavily on a bunk. "I thought I did, but I couldn't. I didn't shoot nobody. The nigger done it. He done it all. That Hillbilly, he would have, but he never got the chance. The nigger, he's crazy. He blew Tootie's head off. Almost blew mine off. No money's worth that. But I couldn't get away from them. I had to stay with them. They threatened to kill me."

"So did I," Sunset said.

"Go on ahead. I don't mind if you do it. I just didn't want that nigger sucking on me. He shoots you, then he sucks on you. He thinks he's taking your soul out of your mouth," Plug said. "He got kicked in the head by a horse. He's got the mark. It made him crazy. He thinks he's two people. Maybe he is. Jesus, he's one crazy nigger."

"Where's Hillbilly?" Sunset said.

"I think he's up at the red place," Plug said. "I think he's with the nigger and McBride. They got a whore over there. I was gonna run off, but the bugs came. I thought they passed on, I'd run off. But I don't know what I'd have done, where I'd have gone."

"You aren't going anywhere, Plug," Sunset said. "What's the red place?"

"Apartment over the drugstore. Just across the street there."

"All right, then," Sunset said. "We go get them. The whore, we don't want to hurt her. She's not in on this."

"There's a front way and a little back stairs," Plug said. "Remember I tried to help you. Remember that."

They fought bugs and got in the car and sat. They could see the apartment across the way. Close enough to walk to, but in this storm of bugs, not a good idea.

Sunset said, "I'm gonna drive right up close. Daddy, you and Bull, you take the front. Me and Clyde, we'll take the back. We surprise them, away from their guns, we got a good chance. Much as I know you'd like to, don't shoot you don't have to. Try to arrest them. But they try and hurt you, then shoot to kill."

"What do we do?" Clyde said. "Knock?"

"That's one way," Sunset said.

Sunset drove across the street. The insects were rising and falling in waves. The grasshoppers were so close together they looked like a great speckled ribbon of green and brown and gray and black. They wound around the town, the buildings, the cars, the oil derricks that poked up willy-nilly here and there.

No one was on the streets except them and the bugs.

Sunset drove them right up to the front stairs, then she took a ribbon from her shirt pocket and tied her hair back.

"I don't know what more to say," she said. "You're through the front, we're through the back."

"That's all I need," Bull said.

"Personally," Lee said, "I'd like something a little more specific."

"Sorry, Daddy. I'm not Robert E. Lee on the war plans."

"It'll do, then," Lee said.

"Everyone, please come back," Sunset said.

She and Clyde got out of the car and ran around to the side of the drugstore. The insects were less there. They went along the side until they got to the back of the drugstore, the smaller set of stairs there. The bugs were thick again. They got low and went forward. Sunset had to raise the shotgun stock to cover as much of her face as possible and she could feel the little legs of the bugs working in her hair, in the long tail of it tied back behind her.

Pretty soon they were at the stairs and going up, Clyde pushing to try and get in front of her, but she didn't let him, kept the lead, and finally they came to the back door.

Bull and Lee went up the front way, quick and ready, shotguns pumped full of a load, ready to cut down if need be, or simply ready to knock on the door, arrest all volunteers.

The insects were so thick they could hardly climb the stairs, and just as they were about to reach the top, a smear of insects splattered on the top stair caused Lee's shoe to slip, and he slid and one leg went through the railing, and he did a kind of drop, as if the ground opened up below him, and there was a cracking sound like hot fire eating a dry stick, and Lee just sat, his one good leg poking through the railing, the other coiled under him like it had no bones. He let out a yell so loud it almost drowned out the plague of locusts.

"My leg. Goddamn it! It's gone, Bull. It's gone."

Bull knelt down, said, "Sunset, she's gonna be going through that back door. She's gonna need right smart help. You gonna have to wait."

"Oh, Jesus, it hurts. Go on. Do it, Bull."

And as Bull went away from him, Lee jerked off his belt and stuck it in his mouth and bit down, trying not to scream again.

Bull went up and didn't knock. Knocking was out. He went at the door with his foot and hit it hard and it flapped back like a nag's tongue. He went in and it was dark in there as the door swung back in place, and there was nothing to see, but suddenly he felt something, something hot and at his spine, low down, and it took him a piece of a second to realize there was a knife sliding into him from behind.

Clyde hit the door with his body, but it was a good door, and it knocked Clyde back and almost made him fall down the stairs.

"Damn," Clyde said, and he went at it again.

This time the door frame gave, but not completely, and Clyde hit it again, and Sunset hit it with him, and it went back, throwing splinters, and they went in, pushing the door closed to keep out the rush of grasshoppers.

Bull swung his shotgun butt back and around and caught something. The pressure on the knife went away. But the knife stayed with him, and he thought: Goddamn, taken from behind, that's not right, not me, I'm always ready, but goddamn, I feel it, a knife in my back, tight as a bull's dick in a chicken's ass.

Now he turned toward his attacker and was grabbed by the front of his legs, and he knew, there in the dark, he had hit someone with the shotgun stock, knocked them down and they had hold of his legs and he was going to fall on the knife.

Bull twisted his body as he went down, tried to hit on his side, and did. Mostly. But the hilt of the knife caught some of it, and he felt it go in, like John Henry driving a railroad spike. Inside of him was all the fire of the world, then someone . . . or something . . . was crawling up him like a cockroach. And now with his eyes adjusted, light from outside coming in through the edges of the door where it had not quite closed, the light of morning filtered through the bodies of millions of locusts, he saw a black face, a head wearing a bowler hat. Then powerful hands were at his throat. He tried to bring the shotgun around, but the cockroach slapped at it so hard it was knocked from his hands, and the cockroach dropped all its body weight on him (one big roach) and it drove him down and onto the hilt of the knife and he let out a scream and there were black dots swimming in front of him and the light from the doorway went dim, then he was back, but not fully, seeing everything now as if through a piece of gauze. He tried to reach out and grab the cockroach by the throat, but all he did was knock the bowler hat off. He grabbed at the man's head, trying to push him back. His thumb ran over something there. A scar. And now he was going weak, and he could feel something warm beneath him, his blood, running all over the floor, and he felt as if it were a great pond and he was falling back into it. He slipped his thumb around and caught the big roach in the eye, and the man twisted away, but it wasn't good enough. Then the big man, the giant roach, wide as him, was pushing down again, making that knife really work. The face came close and Bull could see the man's teeth as he opened his mouth and laid it over his own, began to suck, and he thought: This, this will make me mind my own goddamn business from here on out. Then he felt a wave of laughter, but couldn't laugh. From now on. Yeah. I will mind my business. I won't have any more business, mine or anybody else's. And with the last of his will, Bull clamped down on Two's bottom lip with his teeth and bit so hard he could feel his back molars crack.

Two leaped back and Bull reached at his belt, pulled his pistol and fired. The pistol kicked and flew out of Bull's weak hand, but the shot hit Two in the stomach.

Two stood up.

Bull thought: Goddamn, and I thought I was tough. He had lifted his head a bit, but now he let it lie down, closed his eyes, thought: What's gonna come is gonna come, cause I'm done.

Two put one hand on his stomach, stepped over Bull, toward the door, shoved it open. Insects hummed into the room. He stepped out on the stairway landing, and closed the door behind him, did it softly, like there was nothing the matter with him. He saw Lee on the top steps, his leg twisted up under him as if it were rubber, a belt in his mouth.

"We've been shot," Two said.

Lee lifted his shotgun and let off a round. It hit Two and knocked him back and Two slammed against the railing and the boards cracked and went away and he went through, fell the long drop to the ground. Using one hand, Lee flicked another load into the shotgun, crawled over to look down, the belt clamped in his mouth like a hawk with a snake.

Two wasn't there.

Lee wheeled as best he could, the pain in his leg making his vision waver, saw from his new vantage point that Two was up and walking down there, staggering up against Sunset's car, holding his bowler in his hand. He opened the door, put on his bowler, got in behind the wheel.

Lee worked at getting turned better, so he could get off another shot. He could feel the bone in his leg jamming against the inside of his skin. He heard the car start. He got turned around, but the doing of it was so painful, he spat out the belt, screamed, blacked out for a moment.

When he came to, he had dropped the shotgun to the ground below, and the car was driving off with Two at the wheel. Lee ducked his head, passed out.

Just inside the back door, Sunset and Clyde heard Bull's pistol bark, then the shotgun blast. Sunset's whole body was shaking. She said, "Go left, I'll go right."

"I'll go where the shot was," Clyde said.

"I'm the constable, you're the deputy. You do as I say."

Clyde nodded, went left, down the long room. As he passed the windows, the light from them wavered and heaved with the blocking and unblocking of the morning sun by waves of grasshoppers.

When he got to the end of the hall there was a door there, and he went through it, the back of his neck feeling as if someone had laid an ice-cold towel there.

Sunset went right, and as she came to the end of the short wall, there was enough light from the windows she could see Bull lying there, not moving, and she could see to the left of that a shelf, and on the shelf all manner of things, but among them a silver platter next to a kerosene lantern, and in that platter, which was tilted slightly, she could see a shape coming down the hall, on the other side of the wall. Even seen in the platter, from that distance and with the bad light, she knew it was McBride. He was wearing what at first she thought was a dress, then decided was an apron. Clyde moved through the dining room with its chandelier and well-set table, and there was plenty of light in there, but it was a funny kind of light, like he was looking at it from the inside of an egg yoke. Clyde slipped along, listening. He heard the floor creak.

Clyde stopped.

The blond whore stumbled into view, out from an open doorway in the back. She was half dressed.

"Don't shoot," she said. "He's behind the wall. He don't want a shoot-out."

"Who?" Clyde said.

"Hillbilly."

"You sent a woman out, Hillbilly?"

"You ain't got no cause to shoot her," Hillbilly said from behind the wall. "You'd have come right in on me and I didn't want her shot."

"He don't care about me," said the whore. "He's just buying time . . . Hillbilly, it's one of those men whipped your ass."

Clyde motioned her over to him. "Get behind me," he said, then to Hillbilly, "Throw out your gun."

"Ain't got one."

The blonde shook her head.

Clyde nodded.

"I ain't wanting to get killed over all this," Hillbilly said.

"You go on out the back way," Clyde said to the whore.

"McBride, he went through that door there, down the hall," she said.

"Go on out the back way," Clyde said again. "And thanks."