Jessie stood at the opening, whining softly. He crawled out of his sleeping bag and moved over to her. “Shhh,” he whispered. She moved along behind him as he unzipped the inner flap and peered out. Things looked normal, at least as normal as anything was here. No campfire, but dim, battery-operated lanterns hung from low branches here and there, providing just enough illumination for him to see that the picnic tables were empty, tents were zipped up for the night, trailers were sealed against the chill, the dark, the bogeymen. He listened closely to the silence and realized what had awakened Jessie. The background hum of the power lines that he’d heard ever since he’d gotten here was conspicuously absent. Had the power on this part of the island gone down? Wasn’t the ELF field from the concentration of power lines what kept the brujos out of here? Sanchez made his way back to his sleeping bag and belongings. He put on his socks and shoes, shrugged on his jacket, slung the pack over his shoulder.
