“Perfect. Thank you, Silas.”
“Yes, th—” I sputter to a halt when I see the scowl on Silas’s face. The one man willing to give up his space for me also seems furious about my very existence.
“This way.” Silas gestures for me to follow him, so I take a wobbly step towards the middle-left unit on the upper level. Sid follows along—in fact, nearly the whole crew does, but a bark of annoyance from Sid sends them scattering for their own rooms. I’m still not sure what the full dynamic is here, but one thing is clear: Sid is in charge.
Inside, I’m greeted by a seating area cobbled togetherfrom odds and ends. The table is missing half a leg, steadied by a large block of wood beneath it and there’s a large hole exposing the stuffing in the couch. But there are also blankets piled around in a way that makes the space feel comfortable. On a small shelf, there’s even a collection of handmade clay figurines, most depicting animals. They aren’t glazed, which makes me think they were made post-Quake, possibly by Silas himself.
“All of this is yours?” I have camped in fancier houses before, but never could have carried so much stuff.
“Yeah. Two bedrooms. Only one of them has a bed, though,” says Silas.
“That’s fine. April and I are used to sharing.” I reach for the door handle of one of the bedrooms. “Is it okay? May I?”
Silas nods. I open it and discover that he’s filled the spare room with gardening equipment. Shovels, rakes, pruners, bags of seed and a host of other tools I can’t identify.
“We might need to grab something from here occasionally. But most of the stuff we use everyday is in the shed,” says Silas.
“Okay.”
“I’ll make sure the boys knock first.”
It isn’t great news, but we’re lucky to have any privacy at all living with eight men.
Next, we go to the bedroom, which has a queen-sized mattress lying on the ground, also buried in blankets. Silas mumbles about needing to get his stuff, crossing to a coat rack in the corner where he’s hung everything from hoodies to jeans and belts.
Sid clears his throat. “There’s one kitchen serving the whole acreage. It’s downstairs. Helps keep the place warm in the winter. You’re free to join us for dinner, if you want.” He sets my bags down. “There’s a washhouse upstairs and down. Pump is out back by the fire pit.”
“Oh.” Their own pump? That’s a luxury.
He nods. “Dinner should be in an hour. Carlos made—”
“Actually, I think I’ll just… unpack.” It’s the most tactful way I can find to sayplease leave me alone. I need time with my thoughts so I can come up with a plan for how I’m going to rescue April and me from this rapidly unravelling situation.
“Right. Okay.” His head dips, disappointed.
“Sorry, do youneedme at dinner?” I ask. “Is this a sanctuary host thing, or—”
“No, it’s fine. Take all the time you need.”
Silas shoulders past me with an armload of clothes, the coat rack now empty.
“I’ll send you a plate,” Sid says.
“No need. I’ve got food in my bag.”
“Okay.”
He still sends someone. By then, I’ve closed every door I can and dragged the broken table in front of the main door so it can’t swing open. Better safe than sorry.
A knock comes to the door and a voice I don’t recognize says. “Kayla? You in there?”
I don’t move a muscle. Whoever it is jiggles the door handle. When it won’t budge, something scrapes against the floor. “I’ll just leave it out here, if you want it.”
The scent of garlic and rosemary wafts under the door. I wait until the delivery boy is long gone before I give into temptation. A bowl of stewed beans is waiting for me. I barricade the door again before I tuck in. The beans burst easily against my tongue, creamier than I’ve ever managed to cook them, and a small sigh escapes my lips.
As I chew, I listen to the men who share this home. Their laughter travels through the thin walls—and as the sun sets, a startling new sound fills the air. Twangy vibrations layer together to form something hauntingly, indescribablybeautiful. It must be an instrument. I almost sneak out to see what it is—a flute? A violin? It’s not a piano, at least. I’ve found a few of those, and while they were usually broken, I’ve got some idea how they’re supposed to sound.
A voice joins in, deep and resonant. Sid. He sings softly, but I can make out a refrain that loops over the delicate music.Ain’t No Sunshine. Over and over, the song laments.
