They’d gotten a mere thirty miles away, nowhere near either of their homes, before pulling into a development. They’d scouted nearby homes and found one that had only one person in it… or rather, what used to be a person. Jeff took it out with a knife he’d snatched from the butcher block on the island in the kitchen of the house. Then they’d lifted the garage door manually, as it seemed the electricity was out here as well. Working together, they’d pushed the station wagon inside so the sound of the engine didn’t draw more attention. They didn’t speak that night, but had crawled between the seats and stretched out in the back. Lorna used her pile of clothes as a pillow, while Jeff laid his head on the pillow she’d snatched up on her way out of his trailer. He’d held it the whole ride like a talisman, the only comfort object he had to tether him to the world he’d once taken for granted. He fell asleep quickly as though to escape what the last few days had brought.
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