The voices have told her and no one else. No, if anyone would know, it is Lara. And Lara knows it is time. Louis is pulling over his head the tired, faded tee-shirt she has gotten out for him, and then his socks and tennis shoes. His short blond hair sticks up from sleeping, and his eyes still have a puffy look from waking up, but he is ready. A streak flashes across the sky, farther away now, and the thunder rumbles, low at first, growing to a crescendo, then gone. “Come on.” Lara reaches a hand toward him and he puts both hands out to be carried, but she shakes her head. “No, you can walk. Come on.” She leads him to the edge of the bed and he lets himself fall to the mattress, bouncing off the bed and onto the floor with a slight “sprong.” “Shh.” Lara picks Louis up now, although her eyes are trained on the door at the far end of the hallway. But Louis is awake now and squirms to be put down. She sets him down and leads him past his father’s room and down the rickety stairs through the darkened house.