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“The vehicles are disabled,” I say. “That seems to be affecting the electrical systems.” I’m not telling this guy that the lights all seem to be mysteriously turning off after we walk away. “I hope you were able to leave yours on.”

“Of course I did. Because that’s proper accident procedure.”

“Thank you,” I say. “That will help.”

He only glowers, not the least mollified, despite my sincerity.

I continue, “I don’t suppose you have a hazard sign in your car? I do, but I’m up front, and my trunk’s not opening anytime soon.”

“Yeah,” Henry says. “Pickup versus compact car is never good. And I’m the guy who took his emergency kit out a few weeks ago.”

I toss Henry a grateful look for helping to defuse the situation, but the new guy only says, “That was a dumbass move, wasn’t it?”

“Um,” Noemi says, “I’m guessing you do have a hazard sign then?”

His look is ice cold, and he doesn’t answer, which I presume means no.

“Hello and welcome!” the bartender calls. “Can I get you a drink while we wait?”

“Wait for what?”

“Cell service or daylight,” I say as Henry and I sit down. “Whichever comes first.”

“I’m sure as hell not waiting—”

The bartender cuts in, his tone still cheerful. “I have beer, domestic and imported, all the usual liquors and, if you prefer, the coffee is good. All on the house.”

“What I want is your landline.”

“Huh,” Caleb murmurs as he and Noemi join us at our table. “All this time, we never thought to ask about that.” He gives the new guy a look and calls over to him, “There is no landline. No cell service. No ham radio. No working vehicles. No other mode of transportation.”

“Except my bike,” the bartender chirps. “Bicycle, I should clarify.”

“Bicycle…” the new guy says slowly. “The only operating vehicle is a goddamn bicycle.”

“Why do you think we’re all sitting here?” Caleb says. Then he looks at the bartender. “No offense. The coffee really is good.” He looks at us. “You guys want some? You look cold.”

We might have been arguing a few minutes ago, but it only takes a common enemy to unite people, and in five minutes flat we have all identified this guy as trouble.

“Coffee?” the bartender says, lifting a mug. “I’ve got Bailey’s or Kahlúa if you want a little extra.”

“How many of those have you guys had?” the newcomer snaps at us. “Is everyone drunk? Or do you just have no place better to be?”

His gaze crosses all of us, lip curling. “Stupid question. You obviously have no place to be. I’m not sitting around enjoying free drinks. I need to get home tonight.”

The bartender shrugs. “Okay. You want my bike?”

The man waves at his suit. “Do I look like I’m going to ride a damn bike?”

“You can walk, but the next town is about ten miles.”

The man pulls out his wallet, removes a bill, and shakes it at Noemi and Caleb. “Twenty bucks for one of you kids to ride to the next town.”

“Twenty bucks?” Caleb’s eyes widen. “Gee, whiz, thanks, mister.”

The man pulls out more. “Fine. A hundred.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Noemi says. “You know why we haven’t taken the bike ourselves? Because there are wild dogs out there.”