Her risk in coming this far seemed worth it. Today, the houses were unguarded.
With a glance around, she tried the front doors of the first several houses. Locked. Despite being all alone, she felt too exposed to pick the locks out in the open. She’d try somewhere more discreet. Mira and Luna still trotted nearby at the end of their leashes, probably eager to hunt.
With a glance over her shoulders, she slipped to the left of the current house. She opened a gate and slid around to the back. She found a rear door that had already been kicked in, and though it had been pulled closed, it no longer had a solid latch. Disappointment raced through her. She’d hoped these homes might be untouched. Still, there might be something of value left inside.
Lissa unclipped the cats’ leashes, stowing them in her jacket pocket.
Though the inside may have been ransacked, she decided to investigate and shoved with her shoulder, the wood frame splintering. Inside, the air smelled damp and moldy, while fine dust covered every surface. Fighting through swaths of cobwebs, she stifled a sneeze. She made a quick inspection of the kitchen, ecstatic to find a portable can opener, two cans of green beans, and another of peaches. Her mouth watered.
Despite the cracked door frame, the place was a treasure trove. Maybe guards had interrupted potential looters at the back entrance.
A scurrying sound in the corner put her cats on alert, and they disappeared, silently fading into the shadows.
Upstairs, she made quick work of finding two pairs of moisture-wicking, thermal socks, and a couple of women’s size medium underwear. Good enough. She tucked them into her pocket. When she found a long-sleeved shirt that looked warm, she packed it too. She used to trade things like this back at the shelter, but no more. Today was about outfitting herself. She kept moving. Under a bathroom sink, she located two spare toothbrushes and a still-boxed, not-yet-expired tube of toothpaste.
Lissa returned to the ground floor. Digging through a supply closet, she found a lighter, two boxes of wooden matches, and a bundle of candles. At the back, behind a mop, she spotted another door. A box of cleaning supplies blocked the front, like maybe someone had tried to hide the entrance. It piqued her interest.
Clearing the jumble in front, she tried to open the door. It wasn’t locked, just stuck. She tugged harder, scraping it open. Cold, dank air and a musty odor rushed out. A basement? Closing the outer closet door, she left the inner one propped open by an inch, lit a candle, and clomped down the wooden stairs, her flame flickering behind her cupped hand.
Score. Shelves of canned goods. Maybe the owner hadn’t been home to pack when the world had gone to shit. The military scouts must have missed the hidden compartment so hadn’t commandeered these supplies.
Just before she grabbed a can of chili, the floor above creaked. She froze, sweat beading on her forehead. She cocked her head when another step came from above her head.
Someone was upstairs. With the dust and spiderwebs, the house seemed uninhabited. Perhaps someone else trying their luck while the soldiers were distracted. A chill skated down her spine. Or had she been followed?
Heart racing, she doused her flame and held her breath. One hand gravitated to her matches to feel secure about relighting her candle, the other to her knife on her hip. Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she made out the faint charcoal outline of the stairs on her right, light coming only through the remaining slit from the hidden door. Heel to toe, she stepped on soft feet to the corner where the darkness was complete. Soft scratching noises reminded her she wasn’t alone down here either. High on a shelf with the canned goods, she caught a faint reddish gleam from tiny eyes. Probably a rat.
She waited on pins and needles, hoping she might get a clue who was upstairs. Lissa didn’t have long to wait.
“The rat girl must have moved on to another house.” A familiar voice floated down from the top of the stairs, slightly muffled by the doors. Blackburn’s oldest sons must have followed her. “This one’s picked clean. What about you?” His grating voice got under her skin. She slid her knife from its sheath, her quiet breathing seeming loud. She hoped the Blackburn boys weren’t smart enough to look for hidden doors.
Something crashed upstairs, setting her heart racing again. Had they bumped the precarious mop by the basement door?
“All I found upstairs was some jewelry. Nothing valuable, but maybe we can use it for bribing the soldiers for better food on the trek. I’m sick of oatmeal and rats. I vote we go back.”
“Dad said to follow her. It’s the last chance to pick up supplies.”
“We’ve lost her. She could be anywhere. I’ll wait in the lobby and take what she finds, like we always do. You can watch the back door in case she sneaks in that way.” Their voices faded as their heavy footsteps moved outside.
Hell, they didn’t know how to scrounge. She let out a breath, grateful they’d missed the basement. She ground down on her molars. Why didn’t they collect their own stuff instead of goingback to wait? From this house alone, there were dozens of useful items she’d take if she had space to carry more. The full shelves down here alone…
With trembling hands, she relit her candle and turned to better examine the upright shelves at her back.
She covered her mouth, her eyes widening. Camping gear. A real backpack, a Thermarest mattress, sleeping bags. Even a pair of dark green fuel canisters. With a setup like this, she didn’t have to go back to the refugee center. She wouldn’t need to ride on a truck for days at risk of having her cats confiscated or abandoned. The fear of leaving them behind faded. She rotated her tight shoulders. Who needed other people? Maybe she should stay, set up in this place. Still, with the army leaving, the gangs would be a problem.
Better still, she and her cats could strike out on their own with what she’d found here. Leave the city. Find somewhere else safe to set up and live in peace.
In the flickering candlelight, Lissa checked the labels on three sleeping bags and chose the one with the best temperature rating. No tent, but a tarp would do. She rolled a folded blue one tight, stuffing both bulky items into her new larger pack. She hefted its weight. Not too bad. She grabbed a hatchet, a hammer, and a multi-bit screwdriver from a dusty workbench. Tools weren’t light, but they’d be useful. She transferred everything from her daypack to the larger hiking backpack, stowing items in every pocket.
Was she really leaving and striking out on her own? Could she survive without anyone?
The funk of the overcrowded 6B, the Blackburns, and the No Pets rule crossed her mind, followed by the image of rows of cots separated by flimsy sheets. She was done with the refugee center. Derrick wasn’t coming back. He wouldn’t know whereshe was even if he did. She took a deep breath. She would eat then make a final decision.
With her heart still drumming, she climbed the stairs, flinching with every creak. The Blackburn boys had sounded like they’d left. Unless that was a trick to lure her into the open. At the top, she turned the handle slowly so the door wouldn’t click. When she exited the closet, she checked both directions before slipping into the quiet kitchen.
Lissa remained frozen, peeking through the window and listening. No voices, just crows and the wind. She returned upstairs and grabbed another set of clothes now that she had additional space in her pack. After what was probably an hour, it seemed she was in the clear, so she moved outside, leaving the door ajar for Mira and Luna. She whistled. The cats should be along anytime.
She peered at the perpetually gray sky. Smoke wouldn’t show much, so she built a small fire in the backyard. Building up the blaze with dry wood from the shed and loose sticks, she waited. Attached to the back of the house, she spotted an exterior tap. She unhooked the sun-bleached hose and twisted the faucet, crossing her fingers. Water trickled out, so she filled a pot and boiled water for her canteen. Setting it aside to cool, she added another chunk of wood, warming her hands near the flames. It was almost cold enough for gloves.
