The Fade

14

I pull my jacket sleeve down, half-heartedly attempting to protect the forty-one marker slashes from the rain trickling through the canopy.

"I hate rain," Maeve mutters, only her face poking out the top of her sleeping bag. She looks like some kind of massive, shiny caterpillar, not that I'd ever say so aloud. She'd probably shoot me.

"I'll add it to the list," Jamison says absentmindedly. He turns around to face us. "I don't think the rain's going to let up any time soon. Maybe we'd be better off seeking shelter somewhere."

Maeve grimaces.

"It's either that or stay here and get rained out."

"Fine." She steps out of the sleeping bag and wraps it around herself like a shawl. "Let's go, then."

I tug on my hood again, even though I know it's not going to come any farther forward, and prepare for the walk through the downpour.

The next half hour is miserable, trekking through heavy rain and wide expanses of mud, no suitable shelter in sight.

"I hate you," I hear Maeve growl toward Jamison's back, and despite the weather, it brings a smile to my face.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," I venture.

Jamison glances at me over his shoulder. "Maybe. Or maybe not." He points to some point ahead. "Do you see that?"

"No."

"Look harder, then."

I sigh and crane my neck to see where he's pointing. "Are you talking about that tiny shed over there?"

"Sort of. I'm thinking that's in someone's backyard."

"And I think you're stupid," Maeve's voice whispers at my side, barely audible above the sound of the rain.

"Lead the way."

"Gladly." His steps seem to carry new energy as he marches through the last stretch of slimy grass. "See, I told you there would be a house."

Maeve doesn't look impressed by the house before us, and I can't blame her.

It's not much bigger than the shed, probably only one bedroom, one bath, kitchenette, no basement. Tiny. Or I guess cozy, if you like that kind of thing.

Makes me feel claustrophobic.

I take a deep breath as we walk up to the back door and wait for Jamison to get us in.

But he hesitates, and that sets me further on edge.

"What's wrong?" I ask, almost hating myself for opening that can of potential worms.

Again, there's a certain reluctance. "I... There might already be someone in here."

"What?"

He gestures to his feet, and first I'm confused what that has to do with anything, but then I see that he's not pointing to his feet but the welcome mat below them.

There's a well-defined pair of wet footprints right by the door, past where any of us have stood.

For once, Maeve has no snide comment to offer.

"What do we do?"

Jamison shrugs. "We can take our chances and keep walking, or we can go in and hope we outnumber and overpower whoever is inside."

"I could've told you that." There's the Maeve we're used to.

"Let's just go in," I say. I'm sick and tired of the rain, and more than willing at this point to take my chances inside.