“Stop fucking around,” said Murphy. “You got to see this.”

I climbed down from the top bunk and followed Murphy to the window.

Out in the field beyond the house the night was so dark and starless it didn’t seem to be there at all, just a mass of long, stretched-out nothing that you could just as easily fall through as walk upon. But there, a lantern burned in the midst of all that empty like a single shimmering wandering star.

“It’s Grandma,” said Murphy. “What do you think she’s doing?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Farm chores?”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t know shit about farming.”

The wind outside picked up a little, and the old house creaked and groaned around us like the walls and the ceiling were having a conversation. The night outside was loud and crickety, and I felt surrounded suddenly, like there was a whole world of creatures out there hidden in the black. It was like the land outside the house had changed, like while we slept the house had sprouted legs and run us off to a different country, a wilder, stranger place than any we’d ever known before.

We gazed out the window into the night as darkness and the woods swallowed Grandma’s lantern.

Morning brought the smell of pancakes and syrup and cooking sausages.

“Shit,” said Murphy, the sun shining bright through the windows. “We slept in.”

Murphy walked down the hall to the bathroom, and I climbed out of my bunk and got dressed. I wondered why Grandma had let us sleep late. Wasn’t she big on rules, on waking up at sunrise, “obeying the light”?

Downstairs the food was ready, hot on the stove. Grandma wore jeans and a red plaid work shirt, her hair done up in a bun. She chewed a toothpick and hummed softly while she cooked. I had about a million questions to ask her, and I didn’t even know where to start.

“Glad you sleepyheads could finally join me,” said Grandma. “Dawn waits for no man—you remember that.”

“You could have woken us up,” said Murphy. “Today’s the day we’re supposed to go to the police.”

“The police will be there once you’ve finished your breakfast,” said Grandma. “I still believe this trip to the town is a waste of time. Precious, precious time. Time, children, is all we have in this world, and don’t you forget it.”

“Great,” said Murphy. “And today we’ll spend our time talking to the police.”

Grandma bent over the table and pointed a fork at Murphy’s face. “You, young lady, have a smart mouth.” I was startled a little. It was the fiercest gesture Grandma had made toward us.

“Sorry, Grandma,” said Murphy, a little shaken. “I’m just nervous.”

“That’s fine, I know,” said Grandma. She sat down at the table. “You kids have been through so much this past week, I can’t even imagine. Forgive your old grandmother. I’m not so used to company. Shall we say the blessing? Food’s getting cold.”