“The road to perfection is never-ending.”
23
As afternoon sunlight filtered through the narrow gaps of the barn’s roof, Rein woke, sweating. His shirt stuck to his skin and his pants felt heavy and constricting.
Judging by the bright light, there had to be at least another six or so hours until nightfall. He kicked his blanket off and flipped onto his side.
Sleep evaded him. The stifling heat made the task nearly impossible. He rolled over and watched Doc’s chest rise and fall. Perspiration beaded along the older man’s forehead. Soft snores pushed his lips apart.
Jealous, Rein concentrated on the soft, lulling sounds of the sleeping man. Eventually, despite the warm air, his eyes drooped, then closed. He became one with the worlds of in-between, teetering on the edge of reality and dreams, until snapping sounds and shouts roused him. His eyes popped open and Doc was staring straight at him, his eyes bugging.
“Is someone in the barn?” Rein mouthed.
Doc shrugged. “I think it came from outside,” he whispered.
As quietly as possible, careful to avoid the old creaking floorboards, he shifted to his stomach and placed his ear against the loft floor. He stayed still and waited for any sounds at all.
Silence.
Convinced no one was sneaking around below them, he lifted onto all fours and shuffled over to one window. A broken shutter hung to the side, obstructing the view.
Hunkered down, he put his hand on the piece of wood and started to move it away when someone shouted. A man’s voice, deep and young. He stiffened, unmoving. Another man answered. He wasn’t exactly sure where they were, but he knew they were close. Gathering his courage, he pushed the board over and peeked.
At first, he couldn’t see anything unusual, only the old road, where heat waves wafted from the broken asphalt and shimmered like a mirage. Beyond, the remnants of a town curved into view.
“Can you see anything?”
The suddenness of Doc’s voice caught him off-guard. His breath hitched in his chest. “No,” he exhaled.
He shuffled to the side to get a better view. Two figures, in dark clothing, appeared like ghosts.
“Wait.” He motioned for the doctor to come closer. “Over there,” he said.
Doc leaned over his shoulder. “What are they doing?” Barking answered his question, and the doctor pulled back, lengthening his spine. “Dogs. Ellyssa?”
“Yes,” he said while another person leading two dogs joined the first group. The searchers stood next to the road, talking. “They’re searching the town.”
“What are we going to do?”
“For right now, we’re going to stay here,” Rein said, backing away. He picked up his blanket and shoved it in his backpack.
“We can’t just stay here.”
“We can’t leave. Not yet.”
Rein grabbed his rifle and moved toward the shadows in the back of the barn. Behind a pile of wood and rusted tools hid a crawl space. Rein peered inside. Mold scented the air. A hole in the roof let light sneak into the cramped space. Dust particles floated in the sun streams. Spider webs dangled across the opening.
“We can hide in here until night.”
“I don’t know about the floorboards,” Doc said, pointing. The floor buckled across the small space.
“I guess we won’t be moving around much.” He waved his hand in a polite gesture. “After you.”
“Oh sure, let me be the guinea pig.”
Doc dropped his bag and, with Rein’s help, hefted himself through the opening. Scooting on his belly, he turned around until his head faced the opening. “Okay, you’re next.”
“One second.” Rein went back to where they had slept.
“Hey, where’re you going?”
Lifting his finger to his mouth, he opened the trapdoor and kicked the rickety ladder. It cracked but held fast. On the second kick, it was less resistant and broke free, collapsing onto the floor. He retrieved the extra shirt from his bag and, with a back and forth motion, rearranged the decades of dust as he backtracked to the crawl space.
“How are we going to get down?” the doctor asked, his voice low.
“Shh.”
He handed Doc both bags and the rifle, then pulled himself through the gap. The boards protested angrily. He gingerly turned around and laid across the planks, sliding the gun under him, muzzle pointing out into the loft.
Hours passed, and the sun slid across the sky. Shadows lengthened and danced across the loft. Except for the occasional voice carrying across an unknown distance, or the echo of barking, it stayed silent.
Tired from staying in the same position for so long, a kink biting at the back of his neck, Rein rested his head on his arms, fighting to stay awake. The doctor had dozed off a half-hour earlier. He felt the pull on his lids too, urging him to join Doc, when the squeak of rollers along a rusted track broke the monotony. He nudged the doctor.
“We have visitors.”
From beneath, two distinct sets of footfalls stepped across planks. Rein put his finger to his mouth, but the doctor didn’t need any warning, his body tighter than a taut wire.
Whoever roamed below didn’t bother to be quiet. A crash sounded, and Rein knew the boxes next to the door had fallen over. He tracked the sound of the intruders to where the ladder lay useless on the ground. From the light scraping, it sounded like someone was pushing bits of wooden litter around with his foot, before he proceeded deeper into the barn toward the back, where Rein had parked the truck directly below the crawl space. His body became like Doc’s, still, unmoving; even his breath was shallow.
For the first time ever, he was happy he’d followed the procedures dictated by Jordan. The The rules were a big pain, but he performed them religiously.
Then, a seed of doubt sprouted. Had he cleaned out the cab?
He thought back, trying to remember. The backpacks were with them, trash shoved inside. The gun wasn’t in the cab. He remembered picking out everything. Yes, he’d cleaned it out, and he’d smudged dirt on the window to make the truck appear abandoned. The hard, dry ground didn’t show tire tracks, and Doc had placed rubble around the rusted hunk of metal. All necessary precautions had been performed.
Hopefully, the searchers would wander around a bit, and then leave.
“Alex,” said a disembodied voice. “Where are you?”
“Over here. Check this out,” said Alex, apparently the one directly below them.
Heavier thumps echoed through the floorboards and stopped. “Wow. Is that an Oshkosh? I’ve only seen these in history books.”
“I know. I can’t believe it was left behind.”
“Probably broken or something. Not worth bringing out during the evacuation.”
“No. It must have been missed during the sweep.”
One of the men smacked the truck with his hand. A metallic bang sounded.
“We can file a report on it later. If they want the metal, they can come get it.”
The silence wavered for a moment, and was broken by a loud popping; the truck door opened. Rein closed his eyes. Although he had never believed in a higher power, he mouthed a prayer anyway.
The door slammed shut, and he heard some more scuttling around. Something scraped across the floor, accompanied by muttering, as if suddenly the intruders were afraid of being heard. Rein strained to hear, but their voices were too low. Then his fear was realized. The trapdoor leading to the loft swung open and two huge hands appeared, followed by blond hair. Rein and Doc ducked into the concealment the darkness offered.
“Just a little further,” said a man as his head popped up like a jack-in-the-box. Sharp, angled jowls completed the squareness of his face.
“You weigh a ton,” said the voice belonging to Alex.