The Desolate
Chapter Nine - Reprieve

Once we moved up onto the porch that surrounded the front part of the house, I unsheathed my hunting knife and pistol, then knocked loudly on the hardwood front door to get the attention of anyone or anything that might be home. If there were zombies, they would come running when the sound echoed loudly through the house—if anyone was home, then they would certainly have heard it. But there didn’t seem to be any sign of movement inside at all, even though one could never be too cautious when it came to people, but there were certainly no zombies. “Wait here,” I whispered to Ashe, “Keep watch, and if there are any problems take cover inside behind me.”

The door was locked when I turned the handle, but just as I went to smash a window Ashe turned and said in a low voice, “Hey, wait!” Then she pulled out the screwdriver she had used to start the truck. With the aid of a piece of rusted wire she found on the ground in the front yard, she proceeded to pick at the lock. She was turning out to have some very valuable skills, adding lockpicking to my list. She then turned to me and smiled with a sense of pride on her face when the door let out an audible click.

“Good work!” I said, genuinely impressed at this new skill. I then moved into the house, silently gliding across the hardwood floor, as I moved from room to room checking for any sign of danger. The front door opened into a large lounge area on the right and a small office and library to the left with a huge open kitchen and dining area. As well as a second story. Clearing each room one by one as I moved silently through the house. Upstairs was eerie but quiet, moonlight had begun to filter in through the bedroom windows to the east, where the doors had been left open by the house's previous occupants. Once I was satisfied that we were alone, I relaxed slightly and headed back to the lounge area. Letting out a sigh of relief that not only were we alone, but here we had an opportunity to really rest. I silently made my way back down the beautiful hardwood staircase that was probably very old before the world ended.

The house was huge, and it appeared like it had been abandoned since the start of the collapse. There was no sign that it had been hit by scavengers in all that time. When I returned downstairs, Ashe was still holding her rifle at the ready, standing by the door. “How does it look?” She asked nervously.

“All clear,” I announced without bothering to hush my voice. We were truly alone in this beautiful old farmhouse, and it seemed so well preserved that it barely showed signs of its true age.

Ashe returned a smile and then turned to give me a hug in her usual way when she felt the need for contact and affection, and it seemed also when she was grateful. I most certainly did not object to her affections, but it was still something I was getting used to, slowly but surely. The two of us went inside and proceeded to search the house for anything that might be useful. And much to both of our surprise, there was a plentiful supply of preserved and tinned food in the cupboards, along with a cabinet in the lounge room with a well-stocked supply of whisky and wine.

Neither of us bothered with the old refrigerator, not wanting to stink the place out. If it hadn’t been opened in all that time, I dread to think of the smell of what was left in there. Once our search was done and we had some idea of what we had, Ashe found a second backpack that appeared to be in good condition, which she dutifully stocked with food from the kitchen and several bottles of alcohol for us to enjoy in the future since it wasn’t clear how long we were going to stay. It was a large hiking backpack shaded in dark green, which was ideal for traveling. “Good choice!” I said, explaining, “Darker colors tended to be much harder for zombies to pick out, so that should work well.”

She smiled, and said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood, “The more important question, Jack, is this…” Her good humor seemed to have returned in force as she handed me a glass, pouring a little whisky from a bottle she’d taken from the cabinet. “Does the color go with my hair?”

All I could manage was a laugh as I accepted the glass, playfully taking a moment to enjoy her red hair as I ran my fingers through it. She had it tied back into an untidy ponytail, but unlike the day I’d bought her in New Alice, it was softer and the color much more prominent. Despite our time on the road, a steady supply of food and water had done her hair and her body a world of good. My answer to her joke was perhaps a little more serious, but genuine, “It looks great actually.” I whispered, causing her to blush slightly. We then got the bags restocked for travel since we had no idea how long we would have to rest. When we finished, I went around the house, checking that the doors were locked and moving some of the heavy furniture to block some of the more exposed windows and doors, and within just a few minutes, I was confident that we would have ample warning of any problems.

Ashe had loaded up several weeks’ worth of food into both bags before setting up several condensation traps on the front porch of the house to distill the water we had gathered from the creek. Making the most of our seemingly secure location. Once everything was in place, and all the important tasks were done, we retired to the lounge area to rest for the evening. I poured another glass of single malt whisky for us both before sitting down on the old leather couch next to Ashe who had prepared a meal in some bowls she’d found in the kitchen.

“This shit is horrible, Jack,” She coughed before swallowing the rest of the whisky in a single gulp.

“It’s definitely an acquired taste, I’ll give you that,” I laughed. I sipped the liquid and savored every drop before returning to the cabinet and refilling my glass. “It’s like I died and went to heaven,” I joked, before replaceing a nice-looking bottle of wine that I thought Ashe would like. She just rolled her eyes as I swallowed the contents of another glass. But her smile widened as I handed her the wine. “Try this, I think you’ll like it.”

She took it and carefully opened the bottle breathing in its contents. She let out a soft sound of approval as I handed her a wine glass from the same cabinet. And there we sat eating our meal with a nice glass of wine, and whisky, in silent approval. Those small moments were beginning to mean so much around Ashe.

When we finished eating, I asked, “How are your feet doing now?”

She just shrugged, and said, “They’re fine. I think I’m more dehydrated than anything. But otherwise, my body is in pretty good shape.”

“The water we gathered today is probably drinkable if you’re desperate, but if you can wait until tomorrow for the sun, we should be able to distill it quickly. I haven’t found any charcoal around here so filtering it is out of the question at this stage.”

“Maybe we can just have some more of the tinned soup, there is a bunch more in the kitchen.” She shrugged. “They probably taste horrible, but they have water in them.”

“Fair point!” I nodded in agreement, “Let dinner settle, and then we can share a couple of tins of whatever they have in there.”

There was a bookshelf across the room that caught my attention as I sipped another glass of whisky. I stood and made my way over, taking a moment to browse the former owner’s collection of literature of various kinds. And it didn’t take long to replace something I had not read before, so I gathered the book and returned to the lounge where Ashe was still seated holding her second glass of wine for the evening. “I wish I could read,” Ashe said as she rested her head on my shoulder. And I could hear the tinge of regret in her tone as if she had missed out on one of life’s great joys.

“It still surprises me that so many books survived, even after all these years.” I explained as my mind wandered, “And with food and water being only passing concerns around New Alice, tedium and boredom and their respective cures have become somewhat valuable communities. Especially in the form of old books.”

She smiled and kissed my neck, “Sometimes you talk like you are from a whole other time, Jack. It’s cute really.”

I smiled and shrugged, “I mostly learned to speak from the books I read, I guess it rubbed off.” I placed my arm around her shoulders as I started reading the novel to her in the dull moonlight. She hung on to every word long into the night as we shared a few more glasses of whisky—or rather, I drank the whisky, and she had a half bottle of wine that had her inebriated after just one more glass.

Once she fell asleep, I left her on the lounge to rest and recover properly. I decided to leave the rest of the book to read to her another night. I gathered a few more from the previous owner’s collection that I knew were good and packed them into the backpacks. Most of which I knew were great stories as well as some other books on philosophy and science and even one on farming methods. When I was done, I picked up one I had not read and sat down with Ashe. Reading as I drank nearly a full bottle of the delightful whisky relishing every moment of rest, peace, and calm that evening before eventually falling asleep myself. This place gave the illusion of safety, zombies seemed scarce, and people were likely non-existent except maybe in the nearby mountains. And because of that illusion, it meant neither of us was able to stay awake through the night. Sometime in the early morning, I drunkenly wrapped Ashe in my arms and fell into one of the best nights of sleep I had experienced in a very long time. Breathing in her scent and her warmth and enjoying the peace that came into my mind in her presence. Not just because of where we were, but because it was with her.