Page 30 of Caesar DeLuca
The deep shadows make it so that when I turn away and she calls out to me, I can only see a shape shift in the dark. She’s stepped toward me as I’ve moved to walk off. Normally, I’d be irritated someone is trying to follow me when I’ve made it clear I’ll handle it.
Ariana’s fear is so tangible, it’s impossible to be annoyed. Her breaths have stiffened, and I sense the tremble her body gives. She’s thrown off by the power outage. After the mystery noise we heard the other night and the dreary blizzard we’ve found ourselves trapped in, I think she’s reached her fill.
“Alright, fine. Do you have any flashlights?”
We head to the back of the house as a pair, a flashlight in my hand to shine a bright white light ahead of us. The backup generator Ariana said she has sits behind the house, half buried in the snow. I kick and dig away enough of the snow to take a look at the controls. Instead of having powered on, the generator’s ice cold and turned off.
“When was the last time you had this looked at?” I ask.
“A couple weeks ago. I was preparing for winter.”
I grit my teeth, running the flashlight over both sides of the generator. “It seems the gas tank has been bled empty. There’s a crack toward the bottom.”
“That makes no sense. What could that have come from?”
I turn my back to her so that I’m facing the many snow hills surrounding us. I drag the flashlight across the area in search of anything amiss but come up short. There’s nothing to see except icy snowflakes flurrying against the dark landscape.
If Ariana had this generator checked in recent months, then that points to the possibility that somebody’s tampered with it.
“Let’s head inside. It looks like we’ll be without power for a while.”
“I have a pretty large candle collection.”
We make it through the door in time to escape another blast of wind. I make sure the doors locked and then move through the rest of the ground floor to make sure the same can be said for the windows.
Ariana digs candles out of her hallway closet and lights them up. We decide we’ll have our best luck at staying warm if we pick one room and close it off from the rest of the house. The den ends up being our choice since it’s on the ground floor near the kitchen and has plenty of room for two people.
“Here, to keep warm,” Ariana says, hugging an armful of clothes. “It’ll probably be a couple hours like this.”
With begrudging thoughts of the man whose clothes these belong to, I snatch the hoodie off the top and slide it on.
We have a battery-operated portable heater that spurts out what it can. It’s nowhere near warm enough, but with the extra layers and the door closed, it makes a difference. Ariana has an impressive collection of canned goods and other foods that will last long in her pantry. It’s canned vegetables and hash for dinner.
Far from a delicious meal, but acceptable given our situation.
“Another unexpected evening,” I say, spooning more hash from the inside of the tin can. “This just might be the most spontaneous week I’ve ever had.”
“The blizzard’s been forecasted for days.”
“Maybe so. But I expected to be in Atlantic City enjoying myself.”
“Which you’re not doing here,” she mutters. “I’m sorry I’m not more entertaining. I’ll make sure to have catered food the next snowstorm.”
“I meant that in the least offensive way possible. I’d prefer not to have been stabbed and sent to the bottom of a lake to drown. But, all things considered, it could’ve ended a lot worse for me than this.”
“You pay the strangest compliments.” She shakes her head and stares into the contents of her can. She’s got a SPAM one opened and some mixed vegetables. Both she’s hardly touched. “I wasn’t planning on taking you in either. I’ve been just fine during these winter storms.”
“Except it’s a good thing you did. Take me in, I mean. I appreciate it.”
The flickering candles light the room enough for me to catch her expression. Her big, doe-like eyes have widened, and she’s staring at me like she’s forgotten how to use her voice. Clearly she wasn’t expecting me to show gratitude.
Fair assessment.
I’m hardly the kind of guy that goes around expressing an outpouring of kindness. I’m polite and civilized, but I’m not one for touchy-feely fluff. Ariana seems to sense this and uses it as even more justification to close me out.
But I know I catch her off guard too. Moments like these make it clear we intrigue each other, though we might be too stubborn to admit so. I’m not sure what it is about the woman that makes me want to know more about her.
She’s begun to feel like a mystery to unravel. Her past plays a major part in her desire to be a recluse, living miles outside of civilization. She’s soft and nurturing at heart, but in front of me she attempts to put on some brave Miss Independent front.
