Crow's Row

But Griff wasn’t at his station near the bottom of the property.

I ought to have known that with the bosses gone, Griff would start slacking off—immediately. I

considered going to drag him out of bed but decided against it—one of the line guards was

watching me, with persistence. Making a scene on the first day Cameron was away was probably a

bad idea. After talking myself out of it, I bitterly went back into the house and tiptoed past

the snoring night guards on my way to the gym.

I was never one for running on a treadmill. Something about running for miles and never getting

anywhere used to make me feel uneasy—I had forgotten about that, but the memory was

resurfacing; running in a room, a house void of people, staring at the unmoving water of the

pool, the large windows … I was feeling claustrophobic, like a mouse stuck in a cage, getting

nowhere fast on a spin wheel.

With significant effort, I managed to run a few miles, then made it back upstairs to shower and

dress.

I had given Griff enough time to sleep in. If he wasn’t up, I was going to go wake him up—no

matter what. I opened the front door just as the guard who was staring at me earlier was coming

in.

The guard followed my gaze with delight as I looked for Griff outside.

“You’re wasting your time,” he sneered. “Griff already left.”

I saw another guard standing at Griff’s usual post. “Where did he go?”

“Don’t know. He left with the rest of the crew this morning.”

“What? Why?” I asked with slight panic.

“For some reason, the chief all of a sudden decided that he couldn’t leave without Griff going

with them. Griff got woken up late last night and told to get ready to leave this morning.”

We stood facing each other for a moment, and I immediately regretted finding myself alone with

him. All of a sudden, I was very afraid and felt very alone. The guard reached for the door, and

Meatball flew in before the door could close on him.

Meatball stood between us while the guard kicked off his shoes and made his way downstairs,

mumbling to himself, “Go figure. The guy that screws off the most gets promoted first.”

I breathed hard and kept my hand on Meatball’s head, but neither of us moved for a little

while. And then my mind started working again, and I started thinking. Cameron’s sudden

interest in Griff … a coincidence? The sick feeling at the pit of my stomach told me otherwise.

Then another reality set in: Cameron and Rocco and Griff were gone; I had absolutely no human

refuge until they all came back. I looked down at Meatball and decided to stay very close to him

from now on.

When Meatball and I had taken a few deep breaths and our limbs had uncrystallized, we went into

the kitchen. I started with a load of laundry and fed the hungry dog. I crisped some bacon and

fed that to him too. I got whatever I could find out of the fridge and cupboards and started

measuring and mixing and frying and baking. I labored away until the kitchen table and counter

were stacked with pancakes, French toasts, muffins, cookies and a couple loaves of bread. I knew

I was done when I ran out of room and supplies.

I brought all of the food downstairs to the guards’ kitchen with Meatball closely guarding my

heels. No one was there thankfully. I left the food out and sped back up the stairs, hoping that

maybe feeding the guards would keep me in their good books. At least no one would starve while I

was still alive.

Within minutes, I could hear cheering from the night guards who had either been awaken by the

smell of food, or by the clamoring of pots and pans from my cooking session. Either way, happy

jostling sounds filled the house—in many ways, a small relief. But when I looked at the clock,

horror struck again because I had only managed to kill a few hours.

Taking the box of dog biscuits out of the food pantry, I tried to lure Meatball to me so that I

could entertain myself by teaching a guard dog to roll over. But Meatball had stationed himself

by the threshold and did not move from there, no matter how much I begged.

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