Ed and Lorraine clung to each other like wet clothes to dry skin.

   He had seen them already. Norman was eyeing both of them, deciding what to do with the two delincuentes he found in the shed's loft.

   "What do you call yourselves?" he began to ask, before changing his tone quickly. "Nevermind. It doesn't matter." The tired landlord lumbered towards them, shovel in hand.

   Neither of the teenagers knew what to say. Ed opened his mouth as if to say something, then clamped in shut promptly.

   Mr. Tyler started to climb the rickety structure. The two feared that they were done for. He brandished the shovel against Ed like a baseball bat, and the young man dodged him, yet still managed to keep himself between Lorraine and the offender.

   Lorraine, seeing that they were in danger, reached behind her to feel for a pitchfork she had noticed hanging on the wall. Norman went to swing the shovel at them again- Ed stopped him midblow with the pitchfork.

   Metal clanged against metal, and Norman hollered in resistance. "She was an old hag who deserved to die," he said.

   "That wasn't your decision to make," Ed quipped. He pushed against the man, but Mr. Tyler was heavier, and pushed back with such force that Ed fell, knocking his head against the splintered wall.

   "Ed!" Lorraine put herself in front of him protectively, taking the pitchfork from his hands and using it in the same way she'd seen him do.

   "You're no match for me, girl," he drawled.

   "I might not be," she admitted. Beads of sweat formed on her brow. "Mrs. Tyler is, though."

   As soon as she had spoken, Norman Tyler began to cry out in terror. Lorraine waited until the man's guard was down before she pushed him from the loft.

   His body hit the ground with a thud. The shed itself was not very tall-- Ed checked the man's pulse and revealed that he was unconscious but still breathing.

   "We need to go to the sheriff," Lorraine said, throwing the pitchfork down. The two ran out of the shed to see that the sheriff was already there.

   They explained the situation to him carefully. Although he doubted that the children had any reason to lie, he still had a job to do, or so he told them. He came out of the shed exclaiming that it was like nothing he had ever seen; the deputy walked a now-conscious Norman to the sheriff's vehicle.

   All three of them were brought in for questioning. It was almost noon before the trio were allowed to leave the sheriff's office, and they were all incredibly tired from the investigation.

   "I should have never let you three go snooping around," Clarice admitted harshly. Her expression lightened. "I am proud that you had a part in that nasty man's going to jail...although, I'm not sure what it'll mean for me," she admitted fretfully.

   "You could come stay with us," Lorraine chimed. "At least, until you can arrange for your own place."

   "I could board the horses for you," Ed encouraged. "My family has plenty of space for them until you get yourself a place."

   Clarice seemed unaware of how to respond to the children-- her hands were tied and she felt as though she got more than she bargained for.

   The three grew slightly snappy at each other until they finally decided it was time for some sleep. Lorraine still had a good four days to spend with Clarice, and she wanted to be the most helpful version of herself in those four days.

   It was becoming a continuous trial for Ed and Lorraine that sleep would not be taken-- it was given. The powers that be still had something for them yet, and they would not get proper sleep until it was finished.

   Clarice had started to crave pickles in the middle of the night. She went to the icebox and pulled the jar out, trying not to wake the sleeping fellow on the couch.

   "Can't sleep?" Lorraine asked, peering at her from around the corner.

   "Cravings," Clare muttered, offering her cousin a pickle.

   Lorraine shook her head. "No, thank you," she said, instead turning to the kettle to make some tea.

   "I'm so proud of you, Lorraine. I don't know how you and that boy did it, but I feel much safter now that you have. I don't care if I have to move; Jonathan will find me. I'm just grateful that everything's alright, that's all."

   Lorraine smiled. "Do we have to tell Mom about this?" she asked.

   Clare shrugged. "That's still up for debate, sweetheart." She reached out to the tea cup in front of her and went to take a sip-- her hand shook and Lorraine watched as the cup slipped from her fingers, crumbling to a million pieces on the floor.

   "My word," Lorraine exclaimed, rushing to clean up the porcelain shards.

   The floor was wet.

   "Clare?"

   The woman's face was pale. "Lorraine, we need to get to the doctor-- as soon as possible. The baby's coming," she muttered, lifting a hand to her swollen womb.

   "Ed-- Ed, wake up!"

   The boy blinked droggily. "Hm?"

   "Clarice went into labor. We need to get her in the car..."

   Ed shot up off of the couch like a rocket. He searched frantically for his keys. "I can't find my keys!" he called, his voice getting more shrill the more nervous he became.

   "Take my car," Clare interrupted. "The keys are right here-- I won't feel so bad if it's ruined."

   Ed dashed away to the car, and Lorraine snatched her cousin's coat from the mantle. Clarice groaned.

   "The car has a flat," Ed stuttered, nearly tripping over the living room rug. "I don't have a spare. Do you have a spare?"

   "There is no spare!" Claire yelled in a stressed manner.

   "Can't we drive on it anyways?" Lorraine persisted.

   "It's bad," Ed warned, guiding his girlfriend over.

   It looked as if someone had stabbed the tire with a knife.