Jayla took her Daddy’s hiking staff with them. She had left it on the floor of the SUV and it was still there.
She found some empty water bottles, grateful the hospital invaders had at least left those behind. She filled them and brought them also. Jada rode in the wheelchair.
Jayla left reluctantly, forced out by the lack of food and security, gloomily watching down the highway in front of them.
Just south of the hospital the highway passed over a trail.
Jayla stared at the trail and thought about it. On a hunch, she crossed the highway, followed a side street to a parking area and went up to a trailhead sign. It read Wood River Trail. She studied the faded map.
The trail followed the highway many miles south. If dangerous men used the highways, would she be safer on a trail? The trail looked exposed in places, but sheltered in others, whereas she’d always be exposed on the highway.
It had been built for bicycles, so she’d have no problems pushing the wheelchair on it. She started walking along it without further analysis. The hunger inside her gnawed her to the point that she didn’t care. If the trail was the wrong choice, so be it.
Fifteen minutes down the trail, she saw a mansion. It lay well hidden behind trees, not visible from the highway but easily accessible from the path. She hid Jada and the wheelchair behind a tree and went to investigate. She could taste the food in the mansion as she did so.
She crept slowly along the tree line, the hiking staff in hand, watching the house. Nothing moved.
Jayla circled the property, watching the windows, the doors, the entire property. The second floor on the north side had holes in it. Debris from the meteor strike, she guessed.
She debated her next move. Sneak in? Or knock on the door?
Knocking on the door seemed crazy. Alerting others to her presence, even people in the woods or nearby houses, seemed a distinct possibility.
On the other hand, sneaking in scared her to death. If someone, an armed someone, were inside and caught her, they were as likely to shoot her as to say ‘boo’.
What do I do, Daddy? she asked herself.
She used the staff, knocked on the front door, and ran to the trees.
Five minutes later, worried about her sister hidden just off the trail, she crept back to the front door. She used the staff to knock again, gently.
Peering through the window next to the door, she couldn’t see anything moving. What if they were there but were too afraid to open the door? Would a rich person, which the person who owned this mansion obviously had to be, abandon it or defend it? Could someone else have moved in, like she would if it had food, like she had done at the hospital? If the invaders had knocked on the door of the hospital, would she have answered?
No.
She had to assume someone hid inside.
Get food, in and out quickly, she decided. Maybe they would remain hidden from her like she had from the hospital invaders.
She tried the front door. It was unlocked.
The mansion creeped her out as soon as she set foot in it. She twirled around, feeling eyes on her, but there were none. If no one occupied the place, it had to be haunted. She wanted to be done and get out even faster.
She couldn’t find a kitchen. Room after room after room, all ostentatiously decorated, all useless, and no kitchen. She finally found stairs to a darkened basement and debated what to do next. She tried the light switch, but it didn’t work. The electricity in this entire part of the world had seemed to go away with the meteor strike.
Which suddenly didn’t make sense to Jayla. Why would one meteor strike in the middle of a tiny mountain town knock out electricity everywhere? Downed power lines would take it out in portions of the town, but wouldn’t parts beyond the damage still have electricity? Unless power plants were targeted.
The conviction grew within her that the meteor wasn’t a random meteor, but perhaps a weapon. Perhaps that’s why everyone had evacuated. She needed news.
But more than news, she needed food. And to get food, she needed light.
Searching in desperation through drawers in a sideboard in one of the ostentatious rooms, she eventually found matches. Decorative candles sat on shelves and fireplaces and tables in every room, so she had her pick. She chose a candelabra with three candles and lit all three, then headed for the basement.
The candles gave off more light than she expected, but the fear inside her pictured enemies lurking in every dark corner. She reasoned with herself that if someone were going to attack her, they’d have done so by now. She still kept her hiking stick ready.
In the basement, she found an empty kitchen. She opened every drawer, every cupboard, every appliance, and found nothing. A walk-in pantry was also empty, or so she thought, until she used a candle to look under every shelf.
One can lay on the ground, rolled against the wall. Setting the candelabra down, she used the hiking staff to dig it out. She didn’t care if broccoli were in the can, she had to eat. Eager to get to it, she knocked the candelabra over and the candles went out. She didn’t care. She knew where the can was, she could feel it with the staff, and she wanted it.
It finally rolled out and she grabbed it. She picked the candles up and fumbled her way back to one of the kitchen counters, setting the can on it and digging the matches out of her pocket. She lit one, but before she relit the candles, she used the match to read the label on the can.
Peaches.
Peaches were wonderful. She wished it were one of the fat cans like they had at the store where they shopped, but this skinny can would work also. She relit the candles and searched for a can opener, quickly finding one.
The peaches were gone before she tasted them. She had to control herself not to drink all of the juice, saving some for her sister.
An overwhelming need to flee the house oppressed her. She scooped up the can with the remaining juice in it, the can opener, the matches, and the candles, and she ran back up the stairs, wound her way through the endless rooms and out the front door, not even stopping to close it behind her.
Jada still sat in her wheelchair where Jayla had left her. She fed the girl the juice, which Jada happily drank and seemed to want more. Jayla poured water into the can, swirled it around, and Jada drank that also.
She kept everything, even the can, tucking the items around her sister, and steered back to the path, walking south as fast as she could push the wheelchair.
The trail generally followed the highway, sometimes directly adjacent, sometimes out of sight, and Jayla passed through woods and farms and tiny homesteads. She never mustered enough courage to search for food in another house.
She got to a small town, dreading walking another step, her feet feeling worn out inside her tennis shoes, and her legs past pain, moving somehow of their own volition, when she saw the first aircraft.
A tiny gray shape flew over, then banked and circled around her, fifty or a hundred feet up in the sky, she couldn’t tell. She almost waved at it until she recognized it was too small to be manned.
It flew away.
She continued south, wondering about the unmanned drone when she saw another, perhaps the same one. She couldn’t tell. It dropped lower, twenty or thirty feet overhead, and circled her twice. She got nervous when it ‘waggled’ its wings before flying away again.
She ran now.
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