For a moment I lay there in the darkness, not sure if it was something I’d dreamed or something real. Then I heard a heavy thud downstairs, like a body hitting the floor. Reflexively I reached under my pillow for my knife, just in case trouble came calling. These days it was reflex. As I got up and moved toward the bedroom door I could hear people stirring in the hall outside; it sounded like the noise had awakened everyone in the house. I opened my door and saw my aunt and uncle rushing down the stairs, Rita and Tommy behind them. My brother had his knife in hand, which was probably why he was keeping to the rear of the pack: there was less chance of someone noticing that way. I followed the flood of people down the stairs. The ruckus was apparently coming from the kitchen. Dr. Tilford was already there. Devon was crouched on the floor, his back against a cabinet, wrapped in a trembling ball with his arms around his knees and his head down.
