Page 112 of Last Light

“Sounds good to me. I’d rather have some sense of what we’re coming up on rather than just plowing ahead blindly.”

“Let’s do it then.”

It takes all afternoon to get around, avoiding the roads and nearby occupied towns. It’s sunset by the time we’re in the right general area.

By then it’s too dark to see very far, even if we go to the top of the highest hill and look, so instead we search until we find an out-of-the-way cabin.

It’s empty. Just one room with a small bed and a built-in cabinet. That’s all. There’s no piece of furniture to move in front of the door, although there’s a large board to brace it with. The windows aren’t broken, but they’re unprotected.

It’s better than camping in the open air, but we have to sleep in shifts.

I go to bed first, my stomach all twisty about what’s going to happen tomorrow. The dog curls up on the floor beside the bed. I’ve slept for a couple of hours when I’m jarred awake by Travis saying my name.

He bites it out in a low, urgent voice.

I sit up straight in the bed, my crisis instincts triggered.

“Headlights.” He’s standing at the window, his gun held at the ready.

“Coming here?”

“Yep. Parking now.”

“Oh shit.” I stumble out of bed, grabbing my pistol and moving to the second window.

“Stand to the side of it,” Travis says. “Don’t know who this is. Might shoot right through the window.”

I do as he says, peeking out as much as I can without making myself a target. I can’t see anything but the headlights. The dog has woken up too and is now at my feet, growling softly.

I almost jump out of my skin when a loud shot cracks through the darkness. A male voice calls out, “Whoever you are in there, that cabin doesn’t belong to you.”

Despite the rough authority of the voice, the words actually relieve me. It doesn’t sound like someone who’s looking to hurt others for the sake of it.

Travis calls back, “It was empty. We didn’t know it was taken. We’re not lookin’ for trouble.”

“Then get the fuck out of there!”

“Not until we know who’s outside waitin’ for us.”

I hear the unknown man speaking in a lower voice. It sounds like he might be cursing to himself. Then he calls out, “Tell us who’s in there first.”

Travis doesn’t answer immediately.

I know why he’s hesitating. Admitting it’s just two people might give the strangers an advantage. But I’m absolutely positive now that the man who’s been speaking isn’t out to get us. He reminds me of Travis. Protecting himself. The people with him.

Doing the best he can.

I can hear it in his voice.

This standoff will go on forever if someone doesn’t force the issue.

So I follow my instincts and call out, “It’s just me and him. Two of us. We’re not looking for trouble. But we’re not going to come out until we know it’s safe.”

There’s a pause from outside. Then, “Layne? Is that you?”

The voice is new. Female. Familiar.

I know exactly who it is. I used to hear it speaking nearly every day. “Miss Jenson?”

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