Slow Burn(74)

    It would have to do. I pulled that on and then got down on my knees to keep looking for my shirt.

    “What are you doing?”

    I yelped.

    Griffin was standing in the doorway.

    “Looking for my clothes.”

    He fished my shirt off the doorknob, where it was somehow hanging. He tossed it to me. “There’s a broken window downstairs.”

    “There is?” Oh God, they were inside.

    “But if you haven’t noticed, it’s also windy and raining outside.” Thunder exploded, as if to prove his point. “It could have been a tree branch. It looks like it was.”

    I sighed in relief. “We’re okay.”

    “I think so,” he said. “But it’s always good to be cautious. I did a sweep of the house, and I didn’t see anyone. I think I should check outside too.”

    I shrugged into my shirt. “I’m coming with you.”

    “You don’t need to. It’s probably nothing.”

    “What if it is something? What if you get shot out there? I wouldn’t even know.”

    He sighed. “Okay. Well, we’re going to get wet.”

* * *

    Outside the house, there were a string of nearly identical houses. They sat in a long row, battered by the storm winds. This morning, they’d all been empty. It was a little early in the season for most people to arrive.

    Now, there was a car in the driveway of the house next to us.

    Griffin was crouched next to the house, rain pelting his face. He squinted. “Was that there before?”

    “No,” I said.

    He leaned against the siding. “Would they be so obvious?” He shook his head. “They wouldn’t be so obvious.”

    I wasn’t sure.

    He nodded at my position. “Stay right here. Take the safety off your gun. I’m going to check out the car.”

    I could see the car from where I was, so I didn’t protest. I disengaged the safety. The gun felt slippery in my wet hands. The rain out here was very, very cold, and I was drenched through, chilled to the bone.

    Griffin crept between the tiny trees that formed the barrier between our house and the neighbor’s and made his way to the car. He tried the door.

    It opened.

    He closed it, straightening.

    The light in the other house came on and the front door opened.

    “Hey, you!” yelled a male voice. “What do you think you’re doing to my car?”

    Griffin turned. “Sorry, sir. It’s a misunderstanding.”

    “Do you have a gun?”

    Griffin tucked his gun away. “A gun? No. No, sir. I’m just leaving.” He started to back away.

    “I saw a gun! I could swear it.”

    “No gun.” Griffin kept backing up.

* * *

    “Must have come down early,” I said, handing Griffin duct tape.

    He had a towel draped around his shoulders as he held a piece of cardboard over the broken window. “Yeah, just regular neighbors, I guess.”

    “We’re safe.”

    “We are.” He taped the cardboard down. “You know, this cardboard isn’t going to hold forever. And if we don’t get it fixed, it might be suspicious.”

    “Should we pay to get it repaired, then?”

    “That seems like a waste of money. I think we’re going to have to think about going someplace else soon.”

    “But we just got here,” I said. “And we have all those groceries.”

    “Well, I’m not saying tomorrow,” he said. “But this can’t be permanent, you know.”

    “Nothing’s permanent, is it? They’re always coming for us.”

    He sighed.

    I watched as he finished securing the cardboard over the broken window.

    “I don’t want to have to run forever,” he said. “That’s no kind of life.” He turned to me. “But it’s better than being taken by them. Being killed.”

    He was right.

    “I’ll find a way, though,” he said. “For you. I know I could hide you someplace.”