That’s just the tip of the iceberg, man. What we faced, what we had to run from… it was hundreds of thousands of those monsters.”
Chapter Ten
He was not completely unaffected by Lisa’s pregnancy, if anything the news had warmed some of the iciness he had felt towards her, which of course was all the more frustrating. No, the direction of his foul mood ran directly to Erik. For the better part of the afternoon drive, his former student rattled through questions about the pregnancy, and all but offered to birth the child if it would ease any potential discomfort Lisa might have been feeling at any given moment. It was unclear if Lisa was bothered by the unending litany, though over the hours her answers were getting briefer. How could she not be? Mike asked with silent incredulity. He was willing to bet that the drive had covered more baby topics than miles.
“When will you be due,” led to “Do you think it is a boy or girl,” which inevitably moved into baby names, “if it’s a boy, you can name him Erik,” before hitting on several other pregnancy-related areas. At one point Mike thought the younger man had finally exhausted all questions, but the ever-resourceful Erik segued into another branch of baby-rearing discourse. When Gazelle had lapped at Erik’s face, he could not help but believe the dog’s instinct had been to silence the interrogation.
As he drove, Mike could feel the interior of the Humvee getting smaller. Or maybe it is getting overfilled with Erik’s damn questions! No, focus on the drive, happy thoughts, Mike, happy thoughts of quiet times. Quiet times… like when Erik was wounded… and feverish… and so quiet. No, stop it!
An hour earlier Lisa had offered to take over some of the driving so he could rest, likely so she could have the welcome distraction of navigating the road. He had politely declined, more politely than he expected, which surprised him, after coming to the conclusion that Erik’s ceaseless droning would certainly prevent sleep. Thus it was with great relief that Mike spied a suitable place to make camp for the night.
Angled up from the roadway, a small cottage was visible in the fading daylight. From his current view, Mike estimated the home to be small enough to properly secure while affording the three of them a relative amount of personal privacy. Oh, to put a door between his voice and my ears!
Erik took a brief reprieve from his interrogation to help Mike strategically place branches to camouflage the armored vehicle that was now parked in the tall grass. Once he was satisfied the truck would be hidden from a cursory inspection, he set the pace up the incline towards the cottage.
Strips of dried white paint covered more of the untended bushes than the wooden boards of the structure. Upon closer review, the cottage, if it could still be called that, was significantly smaller than Mike had originally believed. I was so desperate to get out of the car, I miraged-up an actual cottage, he thought with a laugh.
It took more than a few minutes to force their way through the only door, which had long ago been barricaded with lumber from the inside. With a wet creak of rotting wood splintering, the blockade gave way and he stepped into the building. Beyond the door’s threshold, two rooms, one to either side and both equally small, branched off. One window in each allowed the waning natural light in, as did several holes in the structure’s roof. For Mike, that explained the rotted wood that had failed to keep him out.
A heavy smell hung in the dank air, not of death, Mike was thankful, but rather the staleness of time’s passage. It took little time to explore the two rooms and their respective contents. The room to the left held a small desk and chair, and a mess of old newspapers, most showing the chewed evidence of small rodents. The walls were decorated with a variety of mounted heads and smaller stuffed bodies of local game. A door at the room’s rear
Chapter Ten
He was not completely unaffected by Lisa’s pregnancy, if anything the news had warmed some of the iciness he had felt towards her, which of course was all the more frustrating. No, the direction of his foul mood ran directly to Erik. For the better part of the afternoon drive, his former student rattled through questions about the pregnancy, and all but offered to birth the child if it would ease any potential discomfort Lisa might have been feeling at any given moment. It was unclear if Lisa was bothered by the unending litany, though over the hours her answers were getting briefer. How could she not be? Mike asked with silent incredulity. He was willing to bet that the drive had covered more baby topics than miles.
“When will you be due,” led to “Do you think it is a boy or girl,” which inevitably moved into baby names, “if it’s a boy, you can name him Erik,” before hitting on several other pregnancy-related areas. At one point Mike thought the younger man had finally exhausted all questions, but the ever-resourceful Erik segued into another branch of baby-rearing discourse. When Gazelle had lapped at Erik’s face, he could not help but believe the dog’s instinct had been to silence the interrogation.
As he drove, Mike could feel the interior of the Humvee getting smaller. Or maybe it is getting overfilled with Erik’s damn questions! No, focus on the drive, happy thoughts, Mike, happy thoughts of quiet times. Quiet times… like when Erik was wounded… and feverish… and so quiet. No, stop it!
An hour earlier Lisa had offered to take over some of the driving so he could rest, likely so she could have the welcome distraction of navigating the road. He had politely declined, more politely than he expected, which surprised him, after coming to the conclusion that Erik’s ceaseless droning would certainly prevent sleep. Thus it was with great relief that Mike spied a suitable place to make camp for the night.
Angled up from the roadway, a small cottage was visible in the fading daylight. From his current view, Mike estimated the home to be small enough to properly secure while affording the three of them a relative amount of personal privacy. Oh, to put a door between his voice and my ears!
Erik took a brief reprieve from his interrogation to help Mike strategically place branches to camouflage the armored vehicle that was now parked in the tall grass. Once he was satisfied the truck would be hidden from a cursory inspection, he set the pace up the incline towards the cottage.
Strips of dried white paint covered more of the untended bushes than the wooden boards of the structure. Upon closer review, the cottage, if it could still be called that, was significantly smaller than Mike had originally believed. I was so desperate to get out of the car, I miraged-up an actual cottage, he thought with a laugh.
It took more than a few minutes to force their way through the only door, which had long ago been barricaded with lumber from the inside. With a wet creak of rotting wood splintering, the blockade gave way and he stepped into the building. Beyond the door’s threshold, two rooms, one to either side and both equally small, branched off. One window in each allowed the waning natural light in, as did several holes in the structure’s roof. For Mike, that explained the rotted wood that had failed to keep him out.
A heavy smell hung in the dank air, not of death, Mike was thankful, but rather the staleness of time’s passage. It took little time to explore the two rooms and their respective contents. The room to the left held a small desk and chair, and a mess of old newspapers, most showing the chewed evidence of small rodents. The walls were decorated with a variety of mounted heads and smaller stuffed bodies of local game. A door at the room’s rear
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