Rabbit Stroud was in the diner. Same place he always was at seven a.m. on most days. Everyone at the counter turned to look at him when his name came over the radio. Henry Durham was chewing on a piece of bacon. Donna the waitress was pouring a cup of coffee. Jed Tebow was about to sit down on his stool at the end of the counter, and stopped midway--squatting just above the orange vinyl, his dirty jeans straining at the pocket seams.

"Rabbit Stroud." Those were the first words anyone had heard come from the radio is over a week. Then the same static they had all learned to tune out--though no one dared to actually turn it off--returned. Everyone he knew had been listening to the static in their cars and at home for days. Many of them left in on while they slept. If an explanation finally came, they all wanted to hear it--even the people who normally stared at the TV screen all day. Personally, Rabbit had been spending his nights reading Band of Brothers on the porch while the static filtered out through the window screens. 

Rabbit finished chewing his french toast and swallowed. "Don't that beat all?" he said.

"Is someone looking for you, Rabbit?" Jed asked, finally sitting down. 

"Can't see why. 'Sides, I'm right here--same as usual. Don't need a radio to find me." Everyone in the diner nodded in agreement. No one was easier to find than Rabbit. Ever since Evie Stroud had passed on he came to the diner every morning after he was finished with the morning milking--and then came back for dinner in the evening. Rabbit never was much of a cook. 

The diner patrons waited silently for some kind of follow up. Maybe they misheard. Maybe they had all imagined it. But if the radio silence had finally been broken with Rabbit Stroud's name, surely there would be instructions to follow. Minutes passed and none came. Rabbit finished his breakfast and paid his bill. 

"Gotta get home to my girls," he said and waved to the still mostly quiet diner patrons. Truth be told, Rabbit hustled back to his truck a little faster than normal and quickly turned the radio on. Static. He headed off down the road, and as he crested the last hill before his farm it all came into view. A line of cars had pulled over on the side of the road. A small but growing crowd parted at the entrance to his driveway to let Rabbit pass. His cattle dogs came bounding out of the barn at the sound of his engine, and immediately set to the task of crowd control. Some of the faces were familiar, but many more were not.

He got out of the truck and the dogs stopped circling the crowd and dropped at his feet. A willowy young woman approached, straw-colored hair falling to her waist. "Are you Rabbit Stroud?" she asked. The crowd behind her continued to swell.