Page 75 of Last Light

The bathroom is as basic as the rest of the place with beige tiles, a small walk-in shower, a pedestal sink, and a weird-looking toilet.

Travis studies the setup and then starts to pump a metal lever connected to the sink faucet.

Water flows into the sink.

I clap my hands again and try not to dance around. “Running water! This guy was brilliant!”

“He was pretty smart. It’s all manual, so the water doesn’t rely on electricity or battery. Let’s check out the toilet.”

It takes a minute for Travis to figure it out, but eventually he shows me how to pump a lever to fill up the tank. He’s grinning as he lifts the lid of the tank and watches the water flow in as he pumps. “See? Fill up the tank before you go so you can flush. Probably just need half a tank if you pee. But fill it up all the way if you need to...”

I giggle when he trails off. “If you go Number Two.”

He clears his throat. “Yeah.”

“And what about the shower?”

Travis checks it out and ends up pumping a lever several times and then flipping a switch on a large box attached to the wall next to the shower. It sounds like something turns on.

“What’s that?”

He’s grinning uninhibitedly now. More than I’ve ever seen him before. “Water heater.”

“What?”

“Water heater. Once it heats up, there’ll be hot water.”

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” I’m hugging myself, bending over just a little. “You mean we can have hot showers tonight?”

“Don’t see why not.”

At this point, I don’t see how I can get any more excited than I am right now.

***

IDO GET MORE EXCITED.

We find a large cellar beneath the house, stocked full of food. Canned food. Dehydrated food. Years’ worth of the prepper food you used to be able to order online.

I won’t let Travis go down the ladder because of his ankle, but I bring up a couple of cans of beef stew, a sealed pack of crackers that have a shelf life of twenty-five years, a pack of brownie mix (just add water), and a bottle of beer.

I just bring up one bottle since I’m not sure I’ll even like it.

“Travis!” I glare at him as I climb up to discover him standing in the kitchen, opening cabinets. “You need to sit down and elevate your ankle.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. It’s swelling like crazy.”

“An hour or so ain’t gonna make a difference. I’ll rest it after we eat and shower.”

I start to object but give up. Travis has on his stubborn face.

“You go take your shower first,” he says. “I’ll fix us supper, and then I’ll take my shower after. We’ll need time for the water to heat up again between showers.”

I hesitate, but he’s already opening one of the cans.

He’s been grumpy today and I still have cramps, so I figure I deserve to shower first.

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