“Cia.”
I turn the barrel toward the sound of my name and squint into the darkness for the source. When I can’t make out the person running toward me, I raise my flashlight and hit the switch. After the events in the stadium, I think the risk of exposing my position is worth it.
When the beam illuminates Raffe’s face, I let out a sigh of relief and switch off the light. “Are you okay?” I ask when he reaches my side. “I heard gunshots and thought you’d been killed.”
“I used to play with some of the kids in this neighborhood,” he whispers near my ear. “There are old water ducts at the end of the block. They’re not easy to find if you don’t know where to look. I fired a couple of shots to draw the Safety officials in my direction and then went into one of the ducts and crawled until I came out on the other side of the block, which is harder to do now than when I was smaller. Are you ready?”
Am I? Could I ever be ready for what I now must do? “I’m ready for this to be over,” I answer.
“Then let’s go.”
Raffe pushes the door open and steps cautiously into darkness. I follow, closing the door behind me, then turn on my flashlight. We’re in a large kitchen. My light shows dark wood cabinets, white and gray countertops, and a large wooden table. There are no dishes in sight. No glasses in the sink. My mother would approve. Raffe frowns.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
“Probably nothing,” he says. “When my father and I came to visit, Mrs. Barnes let me hang out in here. She always had flowers on the table and things her kids made on the countertop by the sink.”
I shine my light again. The countertops and table are clear of decorations. Out of curiosity, I open one of the cabinet doors. In it are two plates, two bowls. The next one contains three mugs and two drinking glasses. I think of what my mother keeps in our kitchen. Because my father’s job requires him to be close to the area he is currently working to revitalize, we move often, so Mom tries to keep our possessions to a minimum for ease of relocation. Despite that we have at least six or seven pots and pans, over a dozen plates, and a large number of cups. I have a hard time believing that what’s contained in these cupboards is enough to service a family of five.
“Let’s go.” Raffe turns toward the door that leads to the rest of the house.
I keep the light pointed in front of us as we walk through a hallway that takes us to a large room. On one side is a wide staircase. A sofa, small table, and two blue chairs are arranged in the middle of the room. A shelf on the wall contains a number of books, but, as in the kitchen, there are no personal objects of any kind in the room. No paintings or baskets filled with knitting needles like I noticed in Raffe’s house. The furniture and rug look comfortably worn, but still the house feels as though it’s not really lived in.
Gun in hand, Raffe leads the way up the stairs. As I follow, I run my finger along the wood banister. It comes away clean. No dust. Despite the meager furnishings, someone still lives here.
We reach the top of the stairs and turn to the left. The light I saw from outside is coming from an open door fifteen feet away. The rest of the doors in the hall are closed. No lights shine from beneath them.
Raffe glances at me and nods. I turn off my flashlight, put it in my pocket, and nod back. This is it.
It is easy to keep our approach quiet. The carpet on this floor is thick. When we are steps away from the door, Raffe looks at me and mouths the word “Go.” He races through the door. I step in after him with my finger poised on the trigger, prepared to fire. Only, no one is there. The chair behind a large desk stacked with papers is empty. The shelves in this room are stuffed with books worn from use. A large rocking chair sits near a window. Beside it is a small table stacked high with paper-filled folders.
Without discussion, Raffe and I walk out of the room and search the rest of the upstairs rooms. No one occupies them, but we do find answers of another sort. In the largest bedroom, we see a portrait of Dr. Barnes, his wife, and their children on the nightstand, but when we look in the closets we find clothes that belong only to him. There are no toys or clothes in the other bedrooms. Dr. Barnes still lives here, but his family does not.
Why?