“We need stop,” she responded.
He hated that she argued with him, but he also knew that she had a point.
He looked around, noticed that the neighborhood had again changed. The houses were still very nice but were even more spread out. Now, instead of the manicured lots, these were larger with some lawn and lots of trees.
Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. They’d have to stop at some point, and Jack needed some time to think, plan.
“Up here,” he said pointing ahead.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cassandra was relieved he seemed to be agree with her.
She was exhausted, cold, and she had to pee more than she ever had in her entire life. That made for an interesting combination, and given the come down from the adrenaline that had been spiking, she felt completely worn out.
He walked toward a house that was set off in a far a lot, trees surrounding each side and no houses in the immediate vicinity.
It looked deserted, and Cassandra deeply hoped it was. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep going, but she also didn’t know what to expect when she ran into other people. It was best if there was no one there.
It was early, the first rays of sun just beginning to come over the horizon. Cassandra could hardly believe that it had been so many hours since she had first entered that elevator, but the dawning of the new day was undeniable.
She stayed close to the man as he made his way around the house, noticed how he seemed to look at everything all at once.
He lifted a finger to indicate she stay silent and then walked toward the garage.
It was more of a carport, an open area with no cars inside.
That was a good sign, but the man didn’t seem swayed by it. Instead he grabbed a wrench that had been haphazardly thrown on a workbench and then walked to the garage door.
Cassandra remembered that this had been her idea, remembered that they needed to stop, and tried to swallow down the fear that was creeping over her. There was no way she wanted to go inside there not knowing what was on the other side of the door, not able to imagine seeing another one of those things.
But the alternative was to be out here alone, and she still believed the man when he said if she slowed him down, she would be on her own.
That couldn’t happen, so instead she grabbed the hammer that had been lying next to the wrench and followed him.
He crept to the garage door and turned the knob.
To her surprise, the door gave.
When the man pushed on it, it creaked, the sound loud, seeming to split the air.
The man stilled and then waited, listening.
Cassandra found herself listening too, every inch of her intently focused on anything she might hear.
But all she heard was silence, and apparently it satisfied the man.
He pushed the door open the rest of the way and then paused to look at her.
He lifted his finger to his mouth again, and Cassandra nodded that she understood.
She might pee her pants, but she wouldn’t make a sound.
The house had looked modest from the outside. Its all brick exterior was common for the area, but when Cassandra first glimpsed the shiny floors, she spotted it for what it was.
It was one of those places that had been remodeled, probably ripped down to the studs on the inside and built back up, while keeping the neighborhood’s integrity.
And as was the case with so many houses like it, the recent renovation meant that all of the walls and rooms that you would ordinarily see in an original house from the era had been replaced.
Thank God for open concept, Cassandra thought.
From their spot in the garage door, they could see the living room, the French doors that undoubtedly let out to a patio, and the wide-open kitchen.
The place was in disarray, but not like what Cassandra had seen outside. The pantry door stood wide open, and from what she could see it had been emptied.
She followed behind the man, taking in the rest of the place. Several photo albums were laid out on the shiny wood floors, and Cassandra could see a dark spot on the wall where she presumed a picture had been.
When they reached the hallway, the man looked at her then looked at the light switch on the wall. She nodded, and he flipped the switch.
No power.
That shouldn’t have surprised her or disappointed her, but the darkness was daunting—and also a reminder that this was really happening.
Not like she needed one.
One small ray of hope was the fact that the new open concept also included skylights in the hallway.
It was still not quite light yet, but the first morning rays gave the hallway some measure of illumination.
She moved down it slowly, following in the man’s footsteps.
She counted three doors. Two on one side, one on the opposite side.
He stopped at the first and peered inside.
He kept moving without looking back at her, and when Cassandra passed it, she saw that it was a small half bathroom.
He kept going and then stopped at the next door in the hall.
The door had been closed, and he stopped at it, looked at her, and nodded toward the opposite wall.
Catching his meaning, Cassandra stepped aside and held her breath as he kicked the door.
The shattering of the wood was surprisingly soft, and even better, Cassandra didn’t hear anything stir after the noise.
The man peeked into the room and then went in deeper.
When he was out of sight, Cassandra thought her heart might stop, but he came out a second later and then headed toward the final door.
She glimpsed into the room as she passed it and noticed that it was a small bedroom that seemed to be used as a storage or craft space.
And more importantly, it was empty.
When he reached the final door on the hall, this one opposite the two others, he stood on the opposite wall before he kicked in the door.
Also like before, when he was out of sight, Cassandra’s heart stopped.
Again he emerged, and Cassandra breathed a sigh of relief.
“It’s empty,” he said.
She slumped against the wall, her knees threatening to give out if she left them. “Thank God,” she said.
“They left in a hurry,” the man said.
“Yeah, I saw that,” she responded.
He walked past her, and again she found herself following. She stayed in the living room, though, as he went to the garage door and locked it, then moved to the front door and did the same.
Finally, he went to the French doors and called, “Patio.”
“Yeah,” she responded again.
For one who enjoyed talking as much she did, she seemed at a loss for words.
“Let’s see what’s in the kitchen and then get out of sight,” he said.
“Right,” she responded.
After hearing what he said, she felt exposed in a way she hadn’t before. That made sense. She had seen the white bank of windows flanking either side of the patio doors, but it hadn’t quite connected to her that meant that someone might see them.
She really needed to get her head on straight and start thinking. She’d held onto the tiny grains of hope that this would pass, that it wasn’t really as bad as it seemed, but that had been a fool’s errand and a mistake she would not make again.
But instead of dwelling on that, she followed the man to the kitchen, and still moving quietly, opened and closed the drawers and cabinets on one side while he worked at the other. They met in the middle, and Cassandra lifted her prizes, which consisted of a jar of bacon bits, a half jar of olives, and three slices of wheat bread. The man lifted a container of hummus that looked like it had been opened.
“Looks like were having Greek for breakfast,” the man said.
They took their spoils and headed to the hallway, sitting such that they could see the garage door and front door but might not be visible to someone outside of the house.
They ate in silence, Cassandra finding the bread and hummus and olives almost choking her but still swallowing them down.
They finished the meal by sharing a diet soda, and then once they were done, Cassandra leaned against the wall and studied the man.
He was not looking at her, but Cassandra had no doubt that he was aware of her perusal.
“Good work back there,” he said.
“Where?” she asked, somewhat surprised that he had spoken.
“With the soldiers,” he said.
Cassandra shook her head. “Yeah, I know a shakedown when I see one,” she said. “Why did you give them the car?”
“Would you prefer they take something else?”
His words were yet another splash of reality. And though the words weren’t kind, Cassandra couldn’t bring herself to be angry with him, not when what he said was true.
“Besides,” he said, continuing, “that electric car wasn’t going to get us very far.”
“No,” she said.
She went quiet then and again studied him.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Why does that matter?” he responded.
“I just want to know who to thank,” she said.
He looked at her, surprised.
“Jackson Thorne,” he said.
“Please to meet you, Jackson,” she said.
“Jack,” he said.
“Pleased to meet you, Jack. I’m Cassandra Rutgers,” she said.
He stood, studying the place. “Get some sleep, Cassandra.”
Doing so seemed impossible, but as the seconds ticked by, Cassandra found herself falling into a deep sleep.