“Mux skee toes bite me ’gain!” Beck screamed, raking at tender skin with dirty, miniature fingernails, tears welling in round, dark eyes and spilling over thick black lashes. Each evening, Matthew shrouded his son’s bed in netting, which the toddler then pulled down in the night, annoyed by the high-pitched drone of the insects, and determined to s*******r them all with his pudgy brown fists. Matthew had accepted that Beck was too young to grasp how the netting protected him, and set about replacing the cabin’s window and door screens, hoping to keep the tiny nuisances from entering. The screen door he was working on wobbled, the hinges loose and rusty. He removed the entire door, then unscrewed the wooden assembly holding the torn screen in place. The wood was old, silvery-soft and unprot
