Page 7 of Katya and the Young God

Katya doesn’t know if her appliances are coming with all her stuff, but she fervently hopes so.

“So they said you’ll be here for a while, so you can replace any of the furniture,” Ollo says, stepping in behind her and flipping on the lights. They glow warm, casting a homey and comforting painting over the entire scene. “We stocked some snack food, but there’s a King Sooper back in Estes Park if you need to pick up groceries.”

She drags her fingers across the aged, heavy desk, already falling in love with that one piece of furniture, until she comes to a normal packet of papers, one she’s intimately familiar with.

A briefing packet.

Ollo nods at it, shifting. “My numbers in that, so is Feketer’s, if you need anything,” he says, before jerking his thumb. “I need to head out, the truck keys are in the fridge—"

“The fridge?” Katya blurts out, despite herself.

“No one thinks to look in the fridge when they want to steal a car.” With an awkward nod and an even more awkward wave, he steps out, leaving her tiny carry-on at the door.

Katya waits, counts to five, hears him start up the Subaru again, counts to thirty once he drives away, then…

And only then, she unwinds her shoulders. Sheds the suit jacket, hangs it in the tiny coat closet next to unwieldy looking snow suits and cross-country skis, unclips her service holster. Unwinds her bracelet.

Her new home. Smelling too much like lemon cleaner and dust.

A quick perusal of the cupboards shows nothing she regularly eats; a large pack of Funyuns, a twenty pack of instant ramen, and a case of energy drinks. A bag of sunflower seeds, barbecue flavor. A box of corn nuts.

Inside the fridge is more energy drinks, some Gatorades, and the basic meal replacement drinks she saw Miri consume whenever her feeding schedule wasn’t enough. A few packs of string cheese.

And, sure enough, when she yanks open the sticking crisper drawer, truck keys, wrapped in tinfoil.

Miri would have a fucking field day at this place. Now, she’d hate it because the population density is way too small for her, but she’d find it hilariously awful.

The bathroom is stocked with supplies all looking like they’re geared for single middle-aged men. That is to say, no hair conditioner, no proper shaving cream, and nothing resembling hand lotion.

She huffs out a breath, already dreading the drive into the small town for just the basics.

But…

But she’s been traveling for 20 hours on very little sleep, her eyes are crunchy, she hasn’t had a proper shower in way too long, and she wants a goddamn burner phone so she can actually text people what she thinks.

“One more task,” she mutters to herself, shrugging back on the suit jacket and clipping back on the holster.

One more task and then she can rest. And she’s certain that a touristy town like Estes Park would have a military surplus store, something to help her feel less bare while she waits for the rest of her stuff.

* * *

The truck doesn’t startfor three perilous minutes, until it finally shudders and turns over, and she starts to navigate it down the dirt driveway.

It rumbles beneath her, and she’s sitting so high up in the air that it almost gives her Déjà vu of the hummers in Afghanistan.

The moment she gets back to the main road, through the trees, she sees the great wolf-dog, staring back at her as she trucks past. Behind him, visible only in silhouette, is a man.

“Great,” she mutters. Another neighbor she will have to meet, and another person she will have to pretend to like in order for things to move smoothly. Pretend to like so in case something happens, she can call on him, get back up of some sort. Something.

She lifts her hand to wave, but he’s obviously turned away, his giant dog padding after him.

* * *

The driveto the town is quick, beautiful, and bumpy, and she’s going to need some better sports bras if she’s going to drive this constantly.

Sure enough, right off the main thoroughfare is a dusty, tucked away military surplus store, and she haphazardly parks the truck in the unlined parking lot before straightening her suit and striding in.

A bell, deep inside, chimes when she opens the door, and it smells of dust and mold and a little bit of expired MREs. It smells like home.

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