“Hey, pssst, new guy. What’s your name again?”
I paused, training the Maglite on him, on Rosco, my co-worker. He was standing in the shadowed entrance of a big, yellow tent at the border between Sectors 4 and 5.
“Marshal,” I said. “Marshal Newman. Jesus, you scared the hell out of me. What—what are you doing?”
He stepped forward into the light of the overheads and placed a finger to his lips. “Shhh. K-12. He could be anywhere.”
I looked around the grove, the Grove of Oddities, they called it, but saw only a collection of tents. “I’m pretty sure he’s not hanging from the trees like a bat. What is it, anyway? And why were you—”
“You wanna see something really weird?”
I was beginning to realize, in my own dim way, that working security meant encountering a colorful cast of characters. “
