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brainstorm some more before the night is out.”

We all got there in one piece.

The cool thing about our usual hideout was that it was never disturbed by anyone other than the guys and me. Rob had brought along a couple of search lights and even a blanket for Sam, and two sheets for him and me. We already had a few exercise mats (resting mats, as far as we were concerned) for when we got tired and needed a little shut eye before we called it a day and headed home. Those mats were leaning against a corner of the wall and braced by an old, white bucket partially filled with sand that had been there literally for years; left behind by someone who’d been there before we took over the place.

We also jammed a two-by-four across the inside of the door to barricade us in if we wanted no random disturbance. The famous writer might as well had left the place to us because it was just like we owned it anyway.

After we took care of some rather unhealthy snacks, we pulled out our mats, threw the covers across them and lay down in close proximity to each other, allowing a couple of feet in between the makeshift beds. With hands behind my head, I looked up toward the dark ceiling.

“I’m beat.” Sam yawned. “Are you guys tired?”

“Exhausted is more like it.” Rob rolled over on his stomach.

“This whole thing is enough to make anyone exhausted,” I said. “You two get some sleep and I’ll keep watch for a while.”

“You sure?” Sam raised her head slightly.

“Yeah,” I replied. “I’m not that sleepy anyway.”

“Okay. Have it your way.”

I realized we didn’t do any more brainstorming before sleep hit Sam and Rob like a log. It probably meant, as usual, I was supposed to do it myself. I couldn’t blame them for being tired. I sure as heck was, but my curiosity to fix the baffling problem kept me alert, if only a little bit. From the floor, I could see the moon and I wondered if it had the answers I needed and if, by chance it did, if it would graciously share them with me. I was desperate and determined; hopeful and afraid. I couldn’t understand my feelings partly and felt lost. As I looked over toward my friends, I knew though unspoken, they were relying on me to somehow fix everything and to get us all through this. It was a hard pill to swallow, but I had to swallow it, nonetheless. They were worth it because they were more than just my friends—they were my family and we were going to stick together, no matter what.

It felt weird not having Jase here with us. He would’ve been up with me devising a plan on how we could possibly get to the bottom of this major mess. But Jase needed rescuing too. After seeing his mom out there in the crowd that day, his concern for her was stronger than his desire to be safe. He would’ve had it no other way; that’s how Jase was.

Maybe when we saw him that night, deep inside the shell of the old him, he was screaming for us to save him and we just couldn’t hear. I’d like to think that instead of believing he was completely out of touch with us whom he’d known for just about his entire life.

Eventually, I drifted off to sleep. The last I’d checked that night, it was 1:25 A.M. I woke up just after three o’clock and Sam and Rob were sleeping peacefully from what I could tell. I felt good about that, considering what we’d all been through the previous day.

I eased up off the mat and strolled over to the window. Looking over our street, I wondered if Mom, Dad and Carl were sleeping well. I sure wished they were. I also wondered about Sam’s family and Rob’s folks. I shuddered to think the Powells were still sitting in their living room at this hour staring at the blank television screen.

So many thoughts had crowded my head all at once and I sat on the bench and just gazed down at the darkness. It was moments later when I noticed a shadow swiftly move along the northern side of the Christies’ house and disappear at the back. I squinted my eyes in hopes of grasping a better look, but it was just too dark, particularly around that part of the house from my view.

Mr. Christie had been out of town for weeks and rumor had it that he wasn’t coming back this time. I don’t know how true that was, but people in Eppington talk—a lot. And sometimes they have no inkling of what they’re even talking about. We’re a close community (and the best way to describe close is a bunch of smiling, two-faced, nosy folk being in everybody’s business). My parents mostly kept to themselves for that same reason. They never could tell from day to day who was their friend and who might’ve been the silent enemy because everyone was so good at pretending. Eppington is my dad’s hometown. Mom moved there to be with him just before they tied the knot, but she’s originally from Kansas.

Further down the street, I saw a dog walking on the left side of the road; looked like a bulldog, but I couldn’t be sure. And several yards down on the right was another. I assumed they might’ve been surveying the area for whatever reason and that there might’ve been more on adjoining streets. I was about to get up to do a check downstairs before returning to my mat when I heard a faint crash that sounded to be coming from the direction of Mrs. Christie’s house. I peered out toward the house for a good half a minute and didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. However, I was curious to know what that sound was

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