He turned back to Marie and Shane, the two of them so young he almost envied them.
Almost. It was a different world out there; one not likely to be kind to two such as they.
“You’re welcome to stay here,” he invited, “
both
of you. There’s food, water, ammunition… everything but a pleasant breeze and the stars overhead.” He stepped back and for one crazy moment, suspended by sheer force of will, he thought they might agree. That between the three of them, the dark eyes in the corner might sulk and fade away, but Shane shook his head.
“Claustrophobia,” he murmured, and from that moment Rudy knew he might count his remaining hours on the fingers of both hands.
They looked at one another across the threshold of the shelter: one unable to come out and the other unwilling to step in. They spoke a while longer, but once this fact became clear, it was really just a question of saying goodbye.
Rudy offered them all the supplies they could carry, pretending it was too much for one man.
And Shane took what was offered, pretending he didn’t know the reason why.
14
Afternoon falling, they left Quail Street and traveled back to the Barrow farmhouse, finding it shaded and undisturbed, traces of themselves still lingering about the silent rooms.
Come morning, the journey south would begin.
Copyright 2010 by Michael James McFarland
Cover art “The Visitor” (circa 1980) by Michael James McFarland