Free Night of the Purple Moon by Scott Cramer

proving he was a human encyclopedia, her brother flirting with Emily—Abby could only shake her head.
    They turned onto Wildwood Drive. The winding road hugged the shoreline on the eastern side of the island. A quarter mile from the harbor, the passengers jolted forward when Jordan slammed the brakes hard, without apology.
    “Deer,” Toucan squealed.
    Abby turned to Kevin and smiled. “How much for a deer?” When she saw the expressions of shock, she looked out the window and quickly realized she had spoken too soon. In the field on the right, a pack of coyotes was chasing a small fawn.
    The fawn zigged and zagged with the inevitable about to happen. Once the pack closed in, Abby could no longer watch.
    They drove on in silence, passing mansions—summer homes for rich people—perched back on expansive lawns. Waves pounded the rocky shore on the opposite side of the road, sending up cascades of spray that dissolved into purple mist.
    Up ahead, Abby spotted two boys standing on the side of the road. She recognized them from school. “They’re twins,” she said. “I think they’re in the first grade.”
    Jordan eased to a smooth stop, and she climbed out.
    The boys stared vacantly at her. She squatted to be eye level with them. “My name is Abby. You’ve seen me before?”
    The one on the left nodded.
    “What are your names?” she asked.
    “Chase.”
    “Terry.”
    “Well, Chase and Terry, have you guys ever ridden in a police car?”
    * * *
    The addition of the twins crowded the car, so Jordan returned home to drop off everyone but Emily. The kids piled out of the police cruiser as if it were a school bus. He breathed a sigh of relief when Abby disappeared inside. She knew him better than anyone, and he was rarely successful trying to hide things from her. But now she suspected nothing.
    With Emily beside him in the passenger seat, Jordan pulled away from his house, ready to resume the search.
    Once they rounded the bend, he stopped in front of the house owned by the old man who mended fishing nets. “Promise you won’t tell anyone what I’m going to do!” Jordan said.
    Emily narrowed her eyes. “How can I promise that? I don’t know what it is.”
    “Do you trust me?”
    She nodded and lightly touched his arm. His heart fluttered. “Okay,” she said, “I promise.”
    Jordan reached behind his back and grabbed the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. His fingers barely encircled the fat grip. He held it up. Heavy as a brick, the weight surprised him. He had no idea if it were loaded with bullets. The black metal gleamed and still held the warmth of his skin.
    Emily gasped and leaned against the door. “Where did you get that?”
    “The police station. It was in a drawer. You can’t tell Abby! We might need it in an emergency.”
    “What kind of emergency?” she asked, her voice quaking.
    “Coyotes,” he said.
    Another danger might crop up — people wanting to take their food or hurt them. Jordan had considered what it might be like with millions of desperate, hungry survivors. The gun would offer protection. This thought he kept to himself.
    “Jordan what do you know about a gun?”
    Nothing beyond what he had seen on television and in movies. His parents had forbidden him to play with toy guns. He shrugged. “Just because we have a gun doesn’t mean we’ll use it. It’s only a precaution.”
    She lowered her eyes. “I don’t like it.”
    “Only you and I will know where it is.”
    Jordan stepped out of the car and placed the gun inside a mailbox on a post beside the old man’s driveway. He’d find a better hiding place later.
    Neither one of them mentioned it again.
    Emily’s voice rang out through the loudspeaker as they drove through the harbor area. “My name is Emily Patel. Please come out. We can help you.”
    She turned to him when they were on Wildwood. “Jordan, have you thought what the future will be like? Next year? Five years from now?”
    He shook his head,