That night poor Diesel can’t get under the bed with his cone on. My head won’t fit.

I fold up my top blanket and place it on the floor for him and he circles it a few times. Finally he lies down but can’t find a comfy way to put his head down. Instead, he sits. In the dim light, I watch as his eyes close.

Cone thing in the way. He still won’t lay his head on the blanket.

I get up and help him, tugging his collar gently. His eyes flick open, a sleepy toffee gaze. “You can do it. I know it’s not comfy but … Here, I’ll come sleep down there with you.” I place my pillow on the floor beside him and pull a blanket over us.

Better! His chest heaves with a big sigh.

When I drape my hand across his back, I can feel Dad’s faulty gift watch between us. I reach to unbuckle it.

Don’t take off the time counter! Diesel lifts his head and looks straight into my eyes. It is our life counter. Diesel licks his lips like he’s trying to sound the words out loud.

I show the watch face to him as though he can tell time. Maybe he can. But it’s not counting anything.

I have told you: when you are safe, it will start again. He looks away and gives a one-note whine.

“But what does that really mean?” I gently turn his head to make him look my way again. “What do you know?”

I cannot tell until after. I made a promise.

“Till after what?” I ask him. This is all so crazy. What does Diesel know?

He whines another note. Till after you are safe.

25

Thursday, July 1:

Disaster Picnic

Next morning, I awake on the floor, my arm across Diesel, and remember his thoughts from last night. An idea I was mulling over suddenly becomes sharp as a photograph. Do you really mean if we make it past four thirty today, time will start again and we’ll be safe?

Yes.

But why?

He only gazes back at me with his melty brown eyes and whines once.

A knock at the door interrupts us, making me sit up. Mom peeks in without waiting.

“Time to get up, Naomi. Get some breakfast and then pack up the bathroom medicine cabinet.”

I wipe at the sleep in my eyes. “What about the picnic?” I’m hoping we don’t go anywhere near Hamilton Beach. Better chance of us staying safe that way.

“That reminds me. Check the dishes box your father packed. I think he stuffed the red tablecloth in there,” Mom answers. “We’ll take that.”

Her head disappears.

Toast! Toast! Diesel barks.

I blink at him.

He barks some more. Hurry!

But why? We could stay home. I wouldn’t drown. No car could come near you.

We can’t do that. Don’t worry. I will save you. I will save the pack! He begins barking again. Hurry, hurry.