The Deep End of the Ocean (47 page)

“It’s pretty ickining-say,” Sam said of the pizza. “On the other hand, I’m pretty starving.” He sat back after quickly polishing off two slices. “You think she’s asleep?”

“Probably,” Reese told him. “Hang on a minute more. And then, when you go up there, just sleep in my room. Just for tonight. So we don’t have to get out all the sheets and stuff. The whole house will be up.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“I don’t know,” Reese said. “Down here on the couch. With the Wulf. And I’m not even tired.”

“It seems kind of crummy to come along and kick you out of your bed.”

“No, really,” Reese insisted. “I’ll take first watch, okay?”

Sam smiled. “Okay.”

“I’ll walk the perimeter,” said Reese, as Sam got up, rummaged in his suitcase, and extracted his toothbrush. Always the good kid.

“Look for suspicious activity,” Sam whispered back.

“Right-o, sir, and have a good sleep. I won’t rest until the encampment is secured,” said Reese.

“Well done.”

Reese sat down at the kitchen table, propping his chin on his hands. It was a lie about being wide awake; he was dogged. He felt as though he hadn’t really slept in weeks. Overhead, the telltale complaint of his old bed sounded as Sam lay down. Reese looked out the big window, past his reflection, deep into the thick dark of the yard. Was it his imagination, or was there already a lightening out at the edge, where the lawn chairs were?

Out there at the perimeter?

He could just flop on the couch. It was unoccupied, for once. Not like the last few weeks. Dad was sleeping upstairs in their bed. Reese had no idea whether that meant he was trying to get her to stay or saying goodbye. But anyway, it meant that there was vacant real estate on the first floor, and Reese would wake up if anybody moved; he always did. He’d given his word, though. And it was only a few more hours, the tail end of one night. Night could only last so long.

Until the encampment is secured, Reese thought. Or until morning. Whichever comes first.