out his voice. Griffith threw himself down and watched Roland. Roland stirred and rolled over, his eyes fluttered. Griffith waited anxiously for his eyes to open. Roland settled again, without waking.
The light disappeared, leaving Griffith in the dark again. He stood up and peeked out the window. He kept his body against the wall, hidden from view. He could feel sweat running down his legs and dripping off the sides of his bare feet. The starlight and the weak glow of the patio light illuminated the closer field enough for Griffith to see that it was packed tight with cows. Thomas stood by the fence staring into the distance. Then a moment later he turned and walked back towards the house. Just when he thought he could relax, Griffith saw something move. Something humanoid, like a humongous silhouette, towering over one of the cows. It stepped over the fence. From so far away he couldn't tell what it was or what it did, but as soon as it was
amongst the cows it seemed to vanish.
Griffith left the window and leapt to Roland's bed.
“Roland.” He tried again a little louder, but Roland was as responsive as a boulder. Griffith tried poking him and when that didn't work, moved up to shaking him, all to no avail.
Griffith sat for a while and waited, listening to the night, waiting for something. A minute, maybe two, passed uninterrupted and Griffith decided to crawl back to his bed and forget about it. Then he heard the sound of knocking on the front door. He crept out of the room, into corridor and peeked over the bannister by the stairs. Georgia, wrapped in her dressing gown and grimacing with frustration, unlocked the door. The door swung out of her hands and slammed against the wall. Griffith saw three men step in, all of them dressed in rags and wearing unkempt, dirt-filled beards. Malice glinted in their eyes. Georgia quivered and backed away. Griffith turned and scurried back to the bedroom.
He rushed to Roland's side and gave the man a desperate slap across the cheek. Roland shot up. He smacked his head on the wall and dropped back onto his pillow.
“Fuck!” Roland cursed.
“Sorry.”
“Ow. Fuck, that hurt. What the hell are you doing?” Roland pulled himself up, slower this time, and glared at Griffith. He looked ready to throttle him if he didn't get a good answer.
Griffith took a step back. He placed a finger over his lips and whispered: “Something is going on.”
“Is the house on fire?”
“No.”
“Then it's not important.”
“Roland, please, I'm serious. We need to go get Thomas.”
“You go. I'm going back to sleep.”
“Roland, listen, there's something outside and—”
“What, are you a child?” Roland rubbed his eyes and blinked. He glared hard at Griffith for a moment. Griffith questioned the wisdom in waking Roland up and made a note not to do it in the future, unless he absolutely had to.
“No. It's just—” he said, searching for the answer that wouldn't make Roland angrier.
“Okay.” Roland sighed, his face softened and he started putting on his shoes. When his foot was half-way into his shoe, the bedroom door swung open and Georgia rushed in, closing it gently behind her. She pressed her back against the door, one hand squeezed the door handle, her whole hand trembling. She didn't speak, but stood with her eyes shut tight for a while.
“Georgia, are you—” Griffith began.
Georgia shushed him. She remained silent a few seconds to compose herself, then spoke in a low voice: “I'm sorry.”
“What's going on?”
“There's some men, downstairs. They forced their way in and started taking things and taking food out of the kitchen. They got Thomas and took his gun. They're threatening to shoot us if we do anything.”
“But they let you come up here?” Roland asked. Griffith nodded in agreement and watched Georgia. The woman closed her eyes again, tears pooled beneath them.
“I'm sorry. They asked if there was anyone else in the house and I was so
The light disappeared, leaving Griffith in the dark again. He stood up and peeked out the window. He kept his body against the wall, hidden from view. He could feel sweat running down his legs and dripping off the sides of his bare feet. The starlight and the weak glow of the patio light illuminated the closer field enough for Griffith to see that it was packed tight with cows. Thomas stood by the fence staring into the distance. Then a moment later he turned and walked back towards the house. Just when he thought he could relax, Griffith saw something move. Something humanoid, like a humongous silhouette, towering over one of the cows. It stepped over the fence. From so far away he couldn't tell what it was or what it did, but as soon as it was
amongst the cows it seemed to vanish.
Griffith left the window and leapt to Roland's bed.
“Roland.” He tried again a little louder, but Roland was as responsive as a boulder. Griffith tried poking him and when that didn't work, moved up to shaking him, all to no avail.
Griffith sat for a while and waited, listening to the night, waiting for something. A minute, maybe two, passed uninterrupted and Griffith decided to crawl back to his bed and forget about it. Then he heard the sound of knocking on the front door. He crept out of the room, into corridor and peeked over the bannister by the stairs. Georgia, wrapped in her dressing gown and grimacing with frustration, unlocked the door. The door swung out of her hands and slammed against the wall. Griffith saw three men step in, all of them dressed in rags and wearing unkempt, dirt-filled beards. Malice glinted in their eyes. Georgia quivered and backed away. Griffith turned and scurried back to the bedroom.
He rushed to Roland's side and gave the man a desperate slap across the cheek. Roland shot up. He smacked his head on the wall and dropped back onto his pillow.
“Fuck!” Roland cursed.
“Sorry.”
“Ow. Fuck, that hurt. What the hell are you doing?” Roland pulled himself up, slower this time, and glared at Griffith. He looked ready to throttle him if he didn't get a good answer.
Griffith took a step back. He placed a finger over his lips and whispered: “Something is going on.”
“Is the house on fire?”
“No.”
“Then it's not important.”
“Roland, please, I'm serious. We need to go get Thomas.”
“You go. I'm going back to sleep.”
“Roland, listen, there's something outside and—”
“What, are you a child?” Roland rubbed his eyes and blinked. He glared hard at Griffith for a moment. Griffith questioned the wisdom in waking Roland up and made a note not to do it in the future, unless he absolutely had to.
“No. It's just—” he said, searching for the answer that wouldn't make Roland angrier.
“Okay.” Roland sighed, his face softened and he started putting on his shoes. When his foot was half-way into his shoe, the bedroom door swung open and Georgia rushed in, closing it gently behind her. She pressed her back against the door, one hand squeezed the door handle, her whole hand trembling. She didn't speak, but stood with her eyes shut tight for a while.
“Georgia, are you—” Griffith began.
Georgia shushed him. She remained silent a few seconds to compose herself, then spoke in a low voice: “I'm sorry.”
“What's going on?”
“There's some men, downstairs. They forced their way in and started taking things and taking food out of the kitchen. They got Thomas and took his gun. They're threatening to shoot us if we do anything.”
“But they let you come up here?” Roland asked. Griffith nodded in agreement and watched Georgia. The woman closed her eyes again, tears pooled beneath them.
“I'm sorry. They asked if there was anyone else in the house and I was so
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