Nobody wanted to sleep, or perhaps they had felt guilty about doing so with Hank’s fate still unknown, but each had eventually succumbed to exhaustion and slipped away. The police had departed, and the soldiers had left only one platoon of men to resume the search after sunrise. Matt crawled out of his tent, wearing the same clothes as yesterday, and shuffled over to Peter’s tent, where he stood listening for any sound of wakefulness. “Who’s that?” a crackling voice inquired. “It’s me. Did I wake you?” Peter yawned, “Nah, I couldn’t really sleep. Those damn birds in a full-scale riot. Is anyone here?” “Like, anyone new?” “Yeah—cops or whatever. C’mon in—I’m decent.” Matt crouched down and unzipped the door, “Nope, those soldiers are just now coming out of their truck.” He sat down on the foot of Peter’s poofy orange sleeping bag.
