Page 74 of Last Light

I notice a hunting rifle lying next to the body. “Did he shoot himself?”

“Don’t see no gunshot holes. Or broken bones in his skull and neck. Maybe he had a heart attack or somethin’.”

“He was probably the owner of this house. Poor guy. Fit himself up for survival. He was probably so proud of himself for being prepared when disaster came. Then he went and had a heart attack one morning.”

Travis eyes are unusually soft on my face. “You think that’s what happened?”

“Don’t you?”

“Sure looks like it.” He nods. “All right. Then it’s worth a try to get into the house so we have somewhere to spend the night.”

I pull the Jeep up as close as I can to what looks like the easiest window to break. Travis limps over and slams the butt of his shotgun into it.

Both of us gasp when his gun bounces back. The window remains undamaged.

“Shit,” Travis breathes. “These windows are reinforced.”

“He really was prepared for survival.”

Travis steps back and eyes the side of the house. “I hate to kick that door in unless I have to, since we’d be real secure in there.”

“Wait! If he was working out there before he died, I bet he had a key on him. We should check.”

Travis is giving me that fond look again. I have no idea what’s prompting it. “Good thinkin’. Drive us back and I’ll check.”

I wait until Travis is back in the Jeep before I say, “I’llcheck. You’re all injured and everything.”

He snorts in wry amusement and doesn’t argue.

I don’t actually enjoy feeling around in the clothes of a dead man to look for a key.

Fortunately, he’s just a skeleton now. I’m not sure I’d have been able to do this if he were still juicy and decaying.

I find the key on a string beneath his rib cage. He must have been wearing it around his neck.

We go back to the front door, and I unlock the door easily with the key, letting Travis step in first with his shotgun in position. “We’re comin’ in! Anyone home?”

No one answers.

The house is small and basic. One main room with an old couch, a recliner, a small table with chairs, and a woodstove. In a small, separate room is the kitchen. And on one side is a bedroom with a double bed and a bathroom.

There’s no one in any of the rooms.

“That must’ve been the owner out there,” Travis mutters when we complete our tour of the house. He leans against a doorframe. I know he’s hurting from his ankle. “All the windows and that door are reinforced. We lock it, and we’ll be safe in here for the night.”

“Good. You said this place has a solar generator. You think it still works?”

“Don’t know. No reason it wouldn’t. Help me find the box.”

We find the panel on the back wall in the kitchen. Travis studies it for a minute. “Looks like it had an automatic shutoff. Must’ve been at least six months since that fella out there died since he’s already a skeleton. Maybe longer. Coulda just shut off automatically. Maybe if I just turn it back on.”

He flips a switch.

There’s a buzzing sound and a couple of lights turn on.

I clap my hands. “Power! We have power! I can’t believe it.”

Travis is almost smiling too. “Fella knew what he was doin’. Bet that propane tank out there is backup for the solar generator.” He glances over toward the bathroom. “Let’s see what he did with the water.”

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