He laughed good-naturedly. “Come on. I just got up, but I think Jeb and the others are down in the barn. They arrived a few hours after we went to sleep. At least that’s what Martha said—after telling me she was washing my unmentionables and I could have them back tomorrow.” He wrinkled his nose. “I think the old woman was trying to come on to me.”
“Okay, I’m just going to erase that image from my brain now.” I gave him a mock-horrified look as we started down the corridor. “For the record, the words old woman and unmentionables should never be used in the same sentence.”
He grinned as we made our way down the stairs and through the shadowy halls of the ancient farmhouse. It was a truly monstrous old building, two stories tall, with high windows, wooden floors and a roof that had been patched numerous times. Over the years, it had been expanded and built upon, and the back part of the house didn’t quite match the first half, but it served its purpose I supposed, keeping a roof over the Archer clan’s heads.
“Where is everyone?” I asked as we hit the ground floor without running into any of the clan’s numerous members. Last night, Patricia had proudly told us that they had three generations of Archers living under one roof: brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, grandmothers, grandfathers, the whole family tree. I’d seen at least a half dozen people taking care of Joe when we’d followed Patricia into the house, and I’d suspected even more had been sleeping in their rooms. Where was everyone now? I heard banging noises coming from the kitchen, but other than that the old farmhouse was silent.
Zeke shrugged. “I think most everyone is outside, taking care of the animals, finishing work in the fields, and making sure the wall is safe. Martha told me they keep goats and sheep out in the pasture during the day, but they have to bring them in at night. Otherwise the rabids will get them.”
“Zeke?” A frail, reedy voice came from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
Zeke grimaced and ducked behind a wall, blowing out the candle as a small white-haired old woman came out of the kitchen with a frying pan in one bony claw. She blinked when she saw me, thick glasses and toothless gums making her look like a lizard.
“Oh,” she said, not able to hide her disappointment. “It’s you. The girl.”
“Allison,” I provided.
“Yes, of course.” Martha wasn’t even looking at me anymore, rheumy eyes scanning the candlelit room. “I thought I heard that boy out here. Is Zeke with you?”
“No,” I said firmly, not glancing at the corner where Zeke was vigorously shaking his head. “I haven’t seen him.”
“Oh. Pity.” Martha sighed. “He must be in the barn with the others. Such a handsome lad, that one.” She sniffed and peered at me, narrowing her eyes behind her glasses. “Oh, good. You found your clothes. I was going to tell you I had washed them, but you were sleeping so soundly, I couldn’t even rouse you. You sleep like the dead!”
“Yeah.” I shifted uncomfortably. I am so definitely locking my door tonight. That, or I’ll nail the damn thing shut. “I guess I was tired. We—our group—we sleep during the day and travel at night. I’m not used to being up in the afternoon.”
“Sleeping is one thing.” Martha nodded her wrinkled head sagely. “You, my girl, were out like a log.” I started to reply, but she appeared to lose interest now that Zeke wasn’t around. “Well, if you see that boy, tell him I’m making a pie just for him. Boys like pie. Dinner will be ready in an hour. Be sure to tell your people.”
“I will,” I muttered as she vanished back into the kitchen. I glanced at Zeke, hoping he hadn’t picked up on my unease. He just shrugged, and I raised an eyebrow.
“The mighty hunter,” I quipped as we snuck out the back door, escaping into the yard. “He can take down vicious rabids and rampaging boars, but one old lady can make him flee in terror.”
“One scary old lady,” he corrected me, looking relieved to be out of the house. “You didn’t hear what she told me when I got up—you’re so cute I could put you in a pie. Tell me that’s not the creepiest thing you’ve ever heard.” His voice climbed a few octaves, turning shrill and breathy. “Today for dessert, we have apple pie, blueberry pie and Ezekiel pie.”
We laughed together, our voices bouncing off the farmhouse walls. Outside, the twilight air was cool and hazy, and when I took a breath, I could smell smoke, dirt, livestock and manure. It was a clean smell, much cleaner than the Fringe and the city streets. Chickens milled about the yard, scattering before us, and a shaggy black-and-white dog watched us from a rusty tractor. It growled at me, curling its lips back as I met its gaze, but Zeke didn’t notice.