“Are we letting the boss know?” Anderson asked.
“We’ll tell him we moved,” Fynn explains. “And, we’ll tell him we’re safe. But, we won’t tell him where we are.”
“Won’t he be pissed?” Anderson watches him, head askew.
“Pissed or not, that’s how things are going down,” Fynn sounds like that is the end of the conversation for him. “I think I need some shuteye, so you’ll take the first shift.”
“Sure thing,” I see Anderson nod, without a single word or gesture of disobedience.
“You mind if we take this one?” Fynn asks me, pointing at one of the beds, which in no way differed from the other one, apart from its slightly different location.
“No, I’m fine with whichever,” I assure him, secretly glad that, at least, he was nice enough to ask.
“Alright then,” he concludes, walking over to the bed, quickly kicking off his shoes, and then just slumping down with the entire weight of his body onto it.
Anderson shrugs his shoulders with a helpless look on his face, but I know now that there’s so much more underneath it. Their relationship is one that seems to transcend mere partnership in the traditional sense of the word, and I believe it has much to do with where they came from. Their roots are the same, so much different from mine. I want to understand them more, despite the fact that everything is telling me I can’t get close to them.
I watch as Anderson leaves outside, for his watch. I count his footsteps. I listen to Fynn’s soft breathing. Somehow, against all odds, I feel safe.
“There’s no reception here of any sort, is there?” I sigh looking at the thick, high walls around us.
“Not like you’d need it, anyway,” Anderson tells me.
It’s been a few days of our stay here, without a big choice of books or any other entertainment, apart from talking. Fynn has offered me one of those mystery bags he has in the corner, the one that contains books, a chessboard and some cards. I suppose, only books serve my purpose. The other two would require the active presence of another person, or maybe even two of them. Fynn has made it perfectly clear that getting too close would be wrong. It’d be too dangerous for us all. And, I know what he means. I know exactly what he means. But, despite that, I can’t order my heart what to feel.
“Yeah, not like I have my phone on me,” I snort.
“Are you bored with us already?” he chuckles.
I lift my head, and I just can’t remain serious. I wonder what he’s like when there isn’t death in the air around him. Is he equally fun and amusing, or maybe even more so? What is he like when he’s in love?
I bite my lip at the thought, as he turns his back to me, and rummages through one of Fynn’s bags.
“You shouldn’t do that,” I tell him, glancing at the door.
Fynn is still out, keeping an eye out on the area.
“Oh, trust me, there’s nothing I haven’t done to him, that he hasn’t forgiven me,” Anderson grins, then dives even more deeply into the bag.
“I can’t imagine him forgiving anything,” I say, even though I meant to keep this to myself.
“You, and many others,” he nods, finally extracting something out of the bag.
Judging from the look on his face, it was exactly what he was looking for.
“You’d better put that back.”
“No way,” he shakes his head.
I still can’t see the thing in his hand properly, as he looks at it tenderly, almost lovingly.
“We’ll make this baby work,” I hear him say, extending his hands to me, and I see it’s one of those old radios. “This baby right here is a Pioneer SX-850 series, a typical AM/FM stereo receiver from the 1970’s.”
“The ‘70s?” I repeat.
“It has an outstanding FM reception, we just need to see if there is a good external antenna.”