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As the vehicle approaches, Gary and Lisa step around their minivan and stand together. They eye the truck, which coasts to a stop at the edge of your yard. A trio of men are sitting in the flatbed, and one of them stands, rifle resting upon his shoulder, and shines a halogen flashlight onto the pair by the minivan.

"You two don't look like you live 'round here?" says the tall man with the rifle. His tone is anything but friendly.

"Just passing through, friend," Gary says, leaning on the hood of his minivan.

"Who said I was yer friend?"

The truck's doors open, and from them step a man and a woman, and you know them both—Cliff and Delilah Payne. They grew up here, son and daughter of Elijah Payne, a well-known Evangelical preacher. Where Eli was fair and kind and neighborly, his children leaned towards the mother's temperament—cold, jaded, and intolerant. You shared a few classes with Cliff in high school during his third repeat of the tenth grade.

"What do we have here, Denton?" Delilah says to the tall man on the flatbed.

"Folks from the city, Dee," he says with a slight chuckle.

"Folks? Who talks like that, you moron?" Dee says and steps around the front of the truck. "Pardon my backwater friend. Some of us made it past the fifth grade. Anyway, welcome to Stodgy Farms. Looks like you brought your whole house!"

As Dee moves to the minivan, you sense trouble brewing on the edge of your lawn, so you…