Page 76 of Shadowing You

The door eased open into darkness.

Following the beam of his phone’s light, he stepped inside. Stone floor. A table. A cot against the wall. A stove in the corner. A giant poster was pinned above the table. Except it wasn’t a poster but a topographical map.

The place was empty and dry and perfect for their needs.

With the key in his pocket, he hurried back to Mei Lin. She hadn’t moved. She was slumped on his pack, her eyes closed.

“Hey.” He crouched. “We’re in.”

Her eyes opened. He hoisted his pack over his shoulder and took her weight against his side. They inched through the door, and he locked it behind them.

She made it as far as the table, where she sat, peeled off her coat, and bent to untie her shoes.

He crouched in front of her. “Let me.”

Again, she didn’t argue, just rested her arms on the table and dropped her head onto them.

He worked her shoes off, and then her socks, which were soaked through. He took off his own jacket and wrapped it around her feet. She should be warm enough for the moment.

He stood and swept the phone beam slowly around the room. A single bulb was attached to a fixture over his head, but when he pulled the string, nothing happened.

He’d seen a lantern and looked for it again. There it was, on a shelf above the stove—dark metal and half full of kerosene. Beside it were a small plastic lighter and a tin of spare wicks.

He carried the lamp to the table—farther from the windows, just in case—lit it, and turned the wick down as low as it would go without extinguishing the flame. Then he powered off his phone to save the battery.

Soft yellow light filled the room.

A barrel rested by the stove, probably for water, but it was empty at the moment. There were four sealed plastic water bottles on a shelf and a small stack of tinned food. A green jacket hung from a peg, and a radio sat on the desk, unplugged. There must be a generator or something to power that and the lightbulb.

This place couldn’t accommodate them for long, but it would do for one night, maybe two, until he came up with a plan.

After taking a protein bar from his pack and a bottle of water from the shelf, he squeezed her shoulder gently. “Sweetheart, you need to eat.”

She lifted her head. Her hair was damp, plastered to her temples. Her eyes were red.

He tore the wrapper and pressed the bar into her hand. “Food, then water. Then sleep.”

She took a bite and chewed like it took all the energy she had left.

He opened the bottle, drank a few swallows, and set it where she could reach it.

Though his stomach was growling, he didn’t eat. She needed food more than he did.

He grabbed a pair of dry socks from his pack, sat in the second chair, and lifted her feet onto his lap. They were icy cold. He rubbed them, earning a slight groan.

“That’s wonderful.” She started to set the protein bar down.

“Uh-uh. Eat the whole thing.”

“You’re very bossy.”

Ah, there was a glimpse of his wife, behind all the fatigue. “You promised to love and obey.”

She snorted. “Not obey.” But she returned to the protein bar, taking bites, swallowing, then sipping the water while he massaged her feet. When they were dry and less cold to the touch, he pulled the dry socks over them.

Only when she’d eaten the entire bar and drunk half the bottle did he give in. “Come on.”

The cot was bare except for a folded quilt at its foot. He’d never been in the military, but he figured this was about the quality a soldier would get—during wartime, in enemy territory. It was scratchy and stank of mold and tobacco.