Page 35 of Last Light

Travis drives in the direction I indicated, and we find a two-story house surrounded by dying pine trees. It’s the least damaged house we’ve found so far. When he pulls up in front of the attached garage, he puts the Jeep into park, gets out, walks to the side of the garage, and peers through the window there.

“What’s wrong now?” I ask, my response to his thoughtfulness earlier transforming to annoyance because I’m soaking wet and exhausted.

“Nothin’. No car in that garage.”

“We don’t need gas right now.”

“I know that. Stay here. Slide over to the driver’s side.”

I don’t try to hide my groan. “Damn it, Travis. Can we just take this house?”

“Yeah. We’re gonna. Wait here. I’ll just be a minute.”

Before I can argue, he disappears around the back of the house.

I have just over a minute to sit and stew and mutter about Travis’s obnoxious habits.

Then the garage door in front of me is opening, his body slowly appearing as he lifts the door.

He waves me into the garage.

“Oh.” I drive the Jeep into the garage, park it, and turn it off.

“This way it’ll be out of the rain and out of sight.” Travis reaches over to help me out.

“Smart.” My compliment is rather begrudging but sincere.

He snorts softly.

Since we’re out of the rain, we’re able to pick and choose the supplies we’ll need for the night.

The occupants obviously had some time to pack up before they left. There isn’t any food or personal items, but the furniture and a lot of the kitchen supplies are still there. We head up to the three bedrooms on the second floor.

“None with two beds,” I say, moisture dripping down my face from my wet hair. My shoes squish as I walk.

“Shit.”

“We can use two rooms, I guess. Maybe—”

“Nope. We gotta be in the same room so I can block the door. Just pick one. Don’t matter which.”

I walk into the master, which is a large room with a four-poster bed and a decorative chaise under the window. “This one has a really big bed, so we can both sleep in it.”

I glance over to discover Travis is frowning.

“Travis, it’s fine. Who the hell cares about sharing a bed anymore? We sleep closer than that when we’re camping outside. I’m not going to let you sleep on that uncomfortable chaise, so it’s either share the enormous bed or else we take turns sleeping again.”

He grumbles, but I understand it as acceptance, so I let my armful of supplies fall to the floor.

He’s walking the perimeter of the room and opening the door to the closet and the attached bathroom when I notice something.

“Travis, look.”

He comes over to where I’m staring at a pretty brick fireplace. And a small pile of firewood beside it, obviously left over from when the owners of this house still slept here.

“Do you think this wood is still good?”

He gives a half shrug. “Probably. As long as it’s dry, it’ll burn.”

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