“Connecticut,” I say.
“Which is it? Philly or Connecticut?”
“Both,” I say before Jamie speaks. “I met him outside Philly on my way down from Connecticut.” I decide to be proactive and keep talking. “We’re heading to Reagan Airport. Have you heard?”
She nods. “Help from Europe?”
“Have you been there?” Jamie asks.
“To Europe? Nah, never made it.” Jamie opens his mouth to correct her but she waves at him. “I’m kidding. No, heard about it and seen the graffiti, but... all sounds like bullshit to me. Reagan’s southeast, you’re a little ways off. What made you come through here?” she asks.
“We wanted to pass through DC to see if there’s anything left. In case Reagan was a bust,” Jamie says.
She frowns and lowers her gun farther. We both slowly put our hands down. She lets out a low grunt that turns into a hacking cough. We flinch, and she holds up her hand to us and spits on the ground behind her.
“Don’t worry, I’ve had this cough since 1982. It’s not the superflu. It’s the smoking. Which, sadly, I can’t do anymore. Unless you boys managed to find any cigarettes along the way for your new friend Henri?”
We shake our heads and I say, “No, sorry.”
“Eh, just as well. Pick up your guns, come on. It’s getting late anyway. You boys can stay the night.” She waves her hands at ourweapons and starts walking away from us.
“Um, actually,” Jamie starts, but Henri interrupts him.
“It wasn’t a question. Come on, it’s not safe after sundown.” She turns to us, smiling. “There’s beasts roaming the streets at night.” She lets out a chuckle that turns into another coughing fit.
We follow her to a small boarded-up brick rancher with a five-foot-high iron fence around it. Brick pillars stand along the fence every five feet or so with concrete globes on top. The house is small, with a little front yard and a concrete driveway that’s also gated off by the fence. An old brown Buick covered in dust and pollen is parked in the drive. A grease stain runs out from under it.
Henri unlocks the large padlock, pulls the chain, and pushes open the front gate with a low squeal of rust. She holds it open for us and wraps the chain back around it as we scoot past her, locking us in.
Jamie shoots me a look of uncertainty, but for some reason, I don’t fear her. It isn’t because she’s old. I know if she wanted to, she could have already shot us on the street. Instead she invites us back to her home?
Sorry, herfortified bunker.
She opens the door for us. It’s musty and warm, but there’s something comforting about it.
“Take off your shoes,” she says. The carpet is soft and I flex my toes against it, feeling something other than hard asphalt for the first time in over four weeks. The sunlight outside filters around the boards on the window.
On the walls hang still-life artwork and old photos. There’s a wooden credenza with drawers against the wall in front of us.Gilt-edged frames of different people line the top of it. Including a young version of Henri, holding a smiling child in her arms. I don’t want to ask her about it, as the rest of the house lies in silence.
“Drop your packs, get comfortable. Sit down.” She motions her arms to the living area to our right. “Can I get you boys something to drink? I have water and canned juice.”
“Water will be fine, thank you,” Jamie says.
“For me too, thanks.” Look at us both still minding our manners after the apocalypse.
She goes into the kitchen area and I hear her take glasses down and set them on a counter. I think back on that first night with Jamie. How I was so worried about him poisoning me.
“What if she put something in the water?” I whisper.
“Why would she bring us back here to poison us when she could have just killed us in the street?”
“To save on ammo, most likely.” We turn to see Henri standing behind us, holding out two glasses of water.
Christ, she’s quiet. That’s twice now she’s snuck up on us.
We take the glasses and she turns around and walks back into the kitchen. “Sit down, I said.”
We move over to the couch and sit. It’s like sitting on a cloud. I let out a sigh as Henri comes back out from the kitchen with an empty glass. She takes Jamie’s glass and pours a few drops from it into hers, then pours a little of mine in, too, and hands it back to me. She downs the water in a gulp and sets it on the coffee table in front of us.
