Those were my orders, issued with a sense of Tightness I’d rarely known. I was tired of how June was treating John, how Mary was victimizing herself with nearly everyone, Mark was a loose cannon, and Carlotta would never find any peace; It seemed to me that there could be no acceptable resolution for anyone, except those who didn’t deserve one. And when, for a moment, I held the power, I surveyed the landscape?it was just a typical mid-sized town in the middle of nowhere?and the citizens showed no signs of remorse, as if what they were doing to one another (and to me) was what we were here for (and I recognize the mistake in that kind of thinking, but still?) a bold and decisive action seemed so appealing, even healing. I was with a friend’s wife, her wild mane would make such ideal kindling? I could have loved her but it would have been just more of the same, more petty crimes and slow death, more passion leading to betrayal, more ecstasy guaranteeing tears. I saw how dangerous and fragile I had become. I could have loved a fig right then with my gasoline in one hand, and the other fluttering between her breast and a packet of matches. My contagious laughter frightening us both, “No survivors,” I repeated, and we looked through one another, the work already completed.