Dwight kept to himself. It was a quiet neighborhood. No one ever knocked, ever called or stopped by, not after the flyers about him went around.
It was of course illegal for him to own a firearm. He had binoculars, though, and a telescope set up in the attic window and could see everything from there.
Standing sullenly, in the yards, on the sidewalks, in the street were many of the kids the neighborhood had been hiding from him, and many of their parents. They were all dead. He was somehow less afraid of them coming to kill him now.