Weathered hands had hammered the narrow stretch of rotting planks together years ago; now they were crisscrossed with newer boards. He ran along the central beams placed on top in presumed reinforcement, despite his pain and limp. His footfalls echoed along the scored wood like a palpated heart. He slowed as he approached a rabbit warren of a home. Corrugated tin roofed a wood-framed hovel, its logs cut, hewn, notched, and stacked. Kudzu vine snaked along its side and threatened to digest the entire structure. A string of gourd birdhouses dangled from a pole. A little girl clad in a flower print Sunday school dress paced the wooden porch in her bare feet, oblivious to the melody of the wind chime overhead and Ernest’s nearing. Her eyes never met his; her attention was on her doll. Its large eyes fluttered noisily and its large bald head gave it an alien aspect. Dirt-tinged fingerprints smudged its color to a dull grey. Behind her, an older woman rocked gently in a chair. “What’cha doing, Ms.
