𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙢 𝘽𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙨

Chapter Twenty two

Y/N

Jennie doesn't talk as she's driving and I'm content to simply watch her out of the corner of my eye. She drums her fingers against the steering wheel whenever she's not trying to tuck her loose hair behind her ears, although the wind always immediately pulls it free again.

The weak moonlight casts a pale glow over her skin.

However in the darkness I can see that her cheeks get darker the longer we're driving, the wind bringing out a pink flush on her face.

After we've been on the highway for about an hour she starts shivering.

And then, of course, the rain starts.

It begins just as the city appears on the horizon, a steady drizzle that is blown in through the empty windscreen. By the time we get into the city it's a full on downpour, soaking through our clothes and hair.

The weather doesn't bother me but Jennie's shivering picks up until her teeth start chattering.

"Okay, I'm freezing," she finally says when we reach the far edge of the city and are driving toward the surrounding residential area. "I've got to get in out of the rain." She drives for a while longer until we pull into a little cul-de-sac and she parks the truck in the drive of a modest colonial style house. "This is one of the last neighbourhoods that we emptied. There might still be some supplies inside."

Jennie and I head up onto the front porch and I'm just stepping out of the rain when she slaps a palm against the door in frustration. "It's locked. We'll have to try another one."

"I g-got it," I say, stepping around her. Turning sideways, I throw my shoulder into the door.

The lock pops and the door swings open, slamming against the wall.

"Wow," Jennie says as she follows me inside. "That's kinda impressive." She shuts the door behind us, blocking out the storm, and then immediately begins searching through the house.

At the kitchen table she makes a noise of triumph and then a bright, florescent light floods the room. Jennie comes back carrying a portable lantern which she sets on the coffee table.

"Oh wow," she says eagerly and picks up a clunky square thing.

She points it at me and presses a button, producing a bright flash that makes me stagger backward in alarm.

"Wh-what?" I ask, trying to rub the spots out of my vision.

"I haven't seen one of these since junior high," Jennie says. She grabs the little square of paper that came out of the front and shakes it.

"One of the other kids at the orphanage had one. It's a camera. Polaroid. See." she holds out the square and I glance down at it curiously.

It's an image that takes me a minute to recognise.

"Me," I say, my head cocking to the side in surprise.

"Exactly," Jennie says with a smile. She drops the photograph on the table and then offers the camera out to me. "Here, take one of me."

I turn the camera around and awkwardly find the button. Putting the lens up to my eye, I point the camera at Jennie.

She tilts her head and flashes a soft smile right as I press the button. The flash is dazzling in the dimly lit room. I eagerly grab the picture as it comes out of the front of the camera and watch in fascination as the image of Jennie's smile slowly forms on the dark plastic.

Jennie comes up beside me to glance at the photo and she laughs. "Oh geez, well I never was very photogenic," she says dismissively.

She wanders off, snapping photos of random objects around the house. I stare down at the picture of her for a minute longer. She's got curled tendrils of hair hanging down over her forehead and her smile is quirked up further on one side.

I don't care what she thinks, I think it's beautiful. When she's not looking, I tuck the photo into the pocket of my jacket.

"Oh good, there's some food in here," Jennie says from the kitchen.

I can hear her carving open a food tin but there are so many interesting things to look at in this house. Trinkets on the mantle, family photos on the walls, a shelf of books above a cracked television set.

While I wander around, picking up things at random and examining them, I keep an eye on Jennie. She's sitting on the kitchen table with her legs folded up under her, scooping cold beans from a tin with a slightly too large spoon.

I'm flipping through a flimsy book full of glossy photos of people with too-tanned skin and too-shiny clothes when she finishes and clears her throat.

"Found a magazine, huh?" Jennie asks in amusement. "Never figured you for the gossip rag type."

"St-trange peop-ple," I say, scrutinising the face of a woman who seems to have painted her face on with sparkly colours. It looks - fake. Not fresh and alive the way Jennie looks.

"You've got that right," she agrees. "Well I'm going to get some sleep. Night." She climbs halfway up the stairs to the next floor but then stops before I can reply.

After she hovers in place for a minute she comes back down and meets my gaze across the room, her cheeks a pleasantly pink colour. "Actually, you can stay up here, if you want. On the floor. I just - these empty houses freak me out. I don't wanna be alone."

I nod without even thinking about it. The truth is, I've gotten used to spending my nights watching Jennie sleep. It's comforting and in the morning I almost feel relaxed, like I'm the one who slept.

I drop the magazine unceremoniously on the floor and follow Jennie's retreating figure up the stairs. The hall is short and branches into three doors - one to a room with a pair of small beds, one to a bathroom, and another to a larger room with a big square bed in the middle.

Jennie goes into the third room and immediately climbs onto the bed, kicking off her shoes with a squelching noise.

I come in behind her but a noise from outside makes me pause. A crunching, like something heavy on gravel. It couldn't be a Boney, they aren't heavy enough to make a sound like that. A second later a light passes over the window of the bedroom.