<strong>Jack</strong><br/><br/>Old Town or not, Biscay wasn't going to let history get in the way of having a Starbucks. Jack drove down the boulevard toward the green and white Starbucks sign at the end, where he knew newspapers were sold at the curb.<br/><br/>He kept his eyes open, looking for signs of life but not seeing any. All the shops were closed, their lights out. He pulled to the side of the road and got out, looking into the darkened interior of the coffee shop. If Starbucks was closed, something really serious was going on.<br/><br/>Jack turned to the newspaper stand when movement attracted his attention. With so much being still, the slightest activity stood out to him now.<br/><br/>He turned to see two people further up the street. A man and a woman, from the looks of it. They had just come out of a bed and breakfast place and were standing on the sidewalk. They hadn't noticed Jack yet.<br/><br/><br/><strong>Eric</strong><br/><br/>Eric leashed Scrap and took him outside. The little dog kept yapping, tugging at his cord. Leaves crinkled beneath Eric's shoes as he stepped out into the yard. The trees came right up to his grandmother's house, the forest ever present here. Eric saw nothing out of the ordinary, but Scrap was still excited. He would bounce one direction, and then another, as though he wasn't sure which way to go.<br/><br/>The only other time Eric had seen the dog act like this was during a storm. Scrap hated high winds, and when the house creaked against a gale, Scrap would go into a fit of barking with no specific target to vent his fury upon. He acted like that now, even though the wind was calm.