Page 62 of His to Burn
I wouldn’t ask it of him, but I wouldn’t push him, either.
That didn’t sit well with me. I abhorred being vulnerable. Hated relying on anyone. To need him, a complete stranger. And not justneed him but to acknowledge that quite literally my life was in his hands.
Yeah, no.
Suddenly, I wasn’t so interested in this conversation anymore.
I drifted toward the household items, ostensibly to catalogue them, but honestly more interested in putting distance between us. As I studied that list, I had a thought.
“Hey, I just remembered something,” I said.
“What’s that?” Jack asked.
“When we go back downstairs.”
He nodded, then finished his survey of the weapons, the food, and then the other items.
About thirty minutes later, we went back down to the second floor.
During his inventory, we talked about it and decided that we would stay on the garage level. There was a bedroom and bathroom down there, and not as many windows.
On our way down, I stopped.
“Almost forgot this,” I said, moving to the console that held the judge’s TV.
“What is it?” Jack asked.
I pulled out a small radio. “Weather radio. He has them stashed all over.”
Jack took the radio out of my hands and flipped it on.
This is not a test…
Those fucking words I hated more than anything.
I looked at Jack, desperate to see something like hope in his face.
I saw nothing.
I looked back at the radio, listening.
Repeat. Shelter in place. Martial law is in effect.
Deadly force authorized against noncompliant civilians?—
Static swallowed the rest.
Jack snapped the radio off.
I risked looking at him again.
Still saw nothing.
The silence was thick, intense, and I almost wished for something to break it.
A wish I regretted when I heard gunshots off in the distance.
“Guess that’s not a coincidence,” Jack said.
