In the second installment of this story, Ryan and Cassie continue their journey with danger looming near
Cold seeped through the loose shingles of the house as day broke. Ryan let Cassie sleep while he rummaged through his pack and brought out some of the crackers they’d found in the glove box of an abandoned Chevy a few days earlier.
He counted them, removed two from their thin plastic sheath, and placed the rest in his bag. Then he grabbed the remainder of the can of beans that had been last night’s supper, stirred them with their one spoon. He watched the sun rise over Cassie’s sleeping form, and waited for her to wake.
After breakfast they cleaned up and Ryan cleared the remains of the fire and searched the house again to make sure they hadn’t missed anything in their first pass the night before. There was always the off chance of finding something tucked away in a dark corner of the kitchen, a box of bouillon or can of tomato paste, a packet of sugar, salt, pepper, anything. They dug feverishly through the kitchen and bathrooms and bedrooms of someone else’s home, but the impropriety of the act had long since ceased bothering them. There were only faint echoes left of the feelings they’d had before the Dark.
Cassie found a worn paperback with the cover torn off that she insisted on keeping and Ryan discovered a few loose chewable vitamins in the medicine cabinet that he quickly shared with Cassie. Otherwise the house had already been picked clean long ago, whether by looters or the original homeowners or fellow nomads, it was hard to say.
They packed what little gear they had and said a prayer as they always did. They thanked the spirits of the house for their hospitality, and for keeping them safe, and they thanked God that they had each other and they prayed that others would find comfort and sanctuary in the home as they had. And they moved on.
They walked for most of the day, skirting the edge of a town. Ryan heard the distant sound of wolves, and told Cassie they were probably just dogs. When she asked if she could play with them, he told her if they played with the dogs then they would have to feed them, and they didn’t have enough food to make it through the rest of the week as it was and the dogs would get confused and follow them around. Showing maturity beyond her nine years, Cassie said, "I wouldn't want the doggies to be hungry, too."
“I’ll tell you something later on,” he said. The statement was meant to distract her as well as serve as a reminder to himself to start weaving the tale he thought she needed to hear.
They spent the night in an old motel. Ryan checked all the rooms to make sure no one else was there, gripping the cold handle of his revolver, praying as he always did that he wouldn’t have to use it again. Then he returned to their room.
Cassie was in bed, reading her new book. Ryan went to the bedside and sat down and watched her read. She looked up and favored him with a quick smile and then her eyes returned like magnets to the pages of her book. Ryan scratched the back of his head.
“We’re going to a city,” he told her.
Her eyes strayed from the book, sharpening as they focused on him. She didn’t reply. Ryan coughed. “That’s what we’re doing,” he went on. “We’re traveling to one of the last cities, one of the places I told you about. They still exist.”
“The places with all the lights?” asked Cassie.
“Yes,” replied Ryan.
Cassie chewed her lip as her little self pondered the implications of such a place and what it would mean for their journey. “Will there be dogs?” she asked.
Ryan smiled. “More than you can count.”