Sweat trickled down her temples.God,it’s hot in here.She raised her arm and sniffed. I stink.
On the other side of the kitchen wall was the living room with a sofa, two well-used recliners, and a good-sized doorstop, formerly the TV. Down the hall, she found a bathroom, craft room, a tiny spare bedroom, and the “master,” identified by the king-sized bed claiming most of the space. The owners had squeezed in a huge, ugly chest of drawers on one wall. The dresser was so close to the end of the bed, she doubted the drawers would open all the way.
Like the rest of the house, it was sweltering. But, while days were hot, temps dropped at night. If she let the breeze in, the house might cool down enough for her to sleep.
She went around opening windows—the master, the living room, and the kitchen, making a mental note to close them before going to bed. No one would happen along the remote country road in the middle of the night, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
After moving the bike into the living room, she returned to the kitchen where she opened and drained the cans and emptied the contents onto a plate. She switched off the flashlight. In the dark, she ate bland cold chicken, mushy asparagus, and syrupy-sweet pears. The metallic-tinged meal tasted like survival and freedom.
She washed the plate and deposited the empty cans in the trash. She’d move it to the outside refuse bin in the morning, where it would sit for eternity or until the metal rusted away, but what else could she do with the trash? There was no way to dispose of it—you could only move it from one location to another, which wasn’t much different than the way it had been before the invasion, except that no men in noisy, big trucks would come by to take it away so you didn’t have to think about it anymore.
Groping the wall, she felt her way to the bathroom.
There was a skylight in the otherwise windowless room, but she decided to risk using the flashlight, and propped it up on the sink. The up-lit image in the vanity mirror did not flatter her dirty, sweaty, tired, pinched appearance.
After using the toilet, she lowered the lid. With limited water, she’d rather shower than flush. She’d flush after a few pees or if she went number two.
She peeled off her soiled, smelly clothes and stepped into the stall. The showerhead sputtered but then produced a cool drizzle. After soaking herself, she switched off the tap, lathered up with body wash and the lady’s flowery shampoo, then rinsed.
Feeling more human, she shampooed her panties in the sink and draped them over the rack. She didn’t have a bra. After a post-invasion weight loss, her already-modest breasts had gotten smaller, and besides, who was there to notice if she went braless?
The medicine chest yielded an unused toothbrush and some Tylenol PM. She would have preferred to take Tylenol without a sleep aid to ensure she could wake up quickly if needed. But she couldn’t find any, and she figured the remote double-wide was about as safe a hideaway as she could find. So, after cleaning her teeth, she popped a Tylenol PM to ease the muscle aches and ensure she got a good night’s sleep. Hard counters and squeaking mice were not conducive to a restful slumber.
Padding into the bedroom naked, she rummaged through the dresser drawers. The lady of the house had been rather rotund. Nothing fit. The man’s T-shirt dropped to her knees and drooped off her shoulders, but at least it stayed on.
She dispensed with the heavy comforter—it must have been winter when they got vaporized—and crawled into bed.
She pulled the sheet over herself and hugged the pillow. In moments, she was out.
Chapter Nine
A crescent moon played with the clouds, receding and advancing. In total darkness, Rok couldn’t see, but with the merest light provided by a sliver moon, his vision was as sharp as any nocturnal creature’s. Still, he’d managed to step into a couple of potholes, nearly turning his ankle.
He wasn’t fully healed, although his body had expelled the foreign objects and closed up the wounds. His shoulder fared better than his leg, which throbbed after hours of walking on uneven road.
He needed to rest. But where? There was nothing out here!
After getting shot and passing out, he’d come to hours later when the crawler flipped and rolled, throwing him off the bunk. He’d banged his injured leg and shoulder and hit his head.
Unable to right the crawler, he’d abandoned it and set out on foot. That had been two days ago. This afternoon, with the luck of Zok, he’d located AdmiralDrek’s camp and discovered the remains of the last men in that unit, as well as a recording of the deaths of those who’d preceded them. He didn’t find Grav on the list of deceased, nor among the bodies, but due to decomposition, identification had proven difficult. Some had been reduced to mere bones.
A search of the camp led him to his brother’s quarters, discernable by the personal effects. He hoped the lack of a body or record indicated Grav had been absent from camp when the plague broke out, but it could also have meant Grav had accompanied the contagious admiral to the command ship.
Rok dispatched the men’s remains with an appropriate funeral, collected his brother’s personal effects, and set out to search. With a desperate grip, he clung to the hope his brother was alive because the idea that he might be alone on this planet was too devastating to face.
He was literally searching in the dark at this point. Having mistakenly assumed all roads ledsomewhere, he’d strayed onto a pitted gravel track. Why build roads leading to nowhere?
As he rounded a bend, the crescent lunar satellite emerged from behind a cloud, illuminating aramshackle dwelling in a field of high grass.Thank you, Zok.
He tromped through thigh-high weeds to the front door. Locked. With two good legs he could kick it in, but he’d fall over if he tried right now. He glanced around in frustration then spotted a window covered by mesh.
He slipped the screen out of the frame and climbed into the house.
The sitting room reeked of human—some odors faint, others more recent, but he couldn’t tell how recent as the profusion of scents overwhelmed his discernment. Perfumes and disinfectants clashed with mustiness, dust, and the nauseating stench of meat, probably from a last meal. He could not imagine anything more vile than eating animal flesh.
The stench emanated from an adjacent room, so he backed away and tripped over a two-wheeled vehicle. He regained his footing without falling but wrenched his already-throbbing leg.
A hulking shape in the main room appeared to be a sofa suitable for bedding down, but he had to get away from the meat smell. He limped down a dark corridor and pushed open the first door. Moonlight spilling in through a ceiling window allowed him torecognize the sanitation room—although the urine odor emanating from the commode would have clued him in. Wrinkling his nose, he depressed the lever and heard thewhooshas water flushed away the waste. He supposed he couldn’t blame the human. He or she might have been vaporized in the middle of emptying his or her bladder.
