Conner Nilsen did not leave his property often. At least — not anymore. But that didn’t matter. Even though he lived on Haskell Lake, twenty-four miles from the nearest town, Rockville, and had to go in often to buy bread and milk and toilet paper and fishing lures, it didn’t matter. Not since he had met his new friends.
It had been a week now — no, two weeks. Or was it a week? Who knew? Not Conner. A month?
It didn’t matter anymore.
He had found the fungus … three days before he met his friends? It was hard to tell.