I'm still not sure how he kept the direction straight in his mind. Before long, the sun set, sinking below the horizon in a riot of flame and violet. Then came the night, with a ceiling of stars, and a silvered moon. I had no idea where we were going. My gaze rested on the ground a few feet in front of me, watching for treacherous rocks or roots that might reach out to trip me. I followed David by the sound of his shuffling footsteps. The brisk walk of earlier in the day was gone; even he was tired.
As I plodded along, I wondered at the change in him. He didn't seem like the same person. He seemed . . . I don't know. Older. Less, and more. And then I understood. He knew fear.
The sound of his footsteps changed from muffled thuds to the crunch of gravel. A moment later, I found myself standing on a graveled road. I stopped, and raised my eyes. A few yards away, a huge cabin towered over us, dark and lonely in the moonlight.
We walked around it quietly. Once, as we passed near the edge of the yard, David bent, and picked up a fist-sized rock. He craned his neck to peer into the small windows of two outbuildings as we passed them, and then led me to the back door.
He raised the rock to break one of the windows, hesitated, and tried the knob. The door opened without a sound. He dropped the rock on the porch and walked in. The sound of the rock smashing on the concrete seemed loud and dangerous in the silent night. I raised my finger to my lips, signaling him to silence, but he waved off my my signal with a smile.
We wandered through the cabin, gaping at the views that spread themselves in front of its huge windows, and staring at the luxurious rooms. We paused in the front entryway. A few small keys hung on hooks near the door. David peered at them for a moment, and then handed me one of them. "You go turn on the gas. The valve's in the garage." He pointed toward one of the outbuildings that we'd passed. "I'll go start the generator. We're going to sleep in comfort tonight."
Several minutes later, I sank into a tub full of hot water, praising the inventor of on-demand water heaters, the inventor of jetted tubs, and all of the other deities I could think of. My aches seemed to melt away, but I was afraid to even look at my throbbing feet. I was sure that they were a solid mass of blisters.
I think I drifted off several times while I sat in the tub, because even though it only seemed like I laid there for a few minutes, when I got out, my hands were pruny and pink. I wrapped myself in a soft towel, and wandered around, loathe to put on my smelly, dirty clothes.
"Get dressed," David called out to me as I walked passed the room that he had claimed. "There are clothes in the drawers." I wandered back into my room. The clothes didn't fit perfectly, but they were more than adequate. I pulled on some soft cotton pajamas, and wandered into the kitchen.
The refrigerator, was, of course, empty, but the pantry was not. Flour, sugar, salt, a bunch of spices, and then came the treasure trove. Canned food. All kinds of it. David walked in to see me drinking mandarin oranges from a pop-top can. "You like mandarin oranges?"
"It was easy to open. It could have been cat food for all I care."
He grinned, and I saw a bit of the old David again. He grabbed a can of pineapple himself, and joined me. Soon, there was a pile of empty cans on the floor around us. "Huaggh." He yawned, gaping widely. His yawn was contagious. "Well," he said, gathering up the cans, "we better get to bed. There's a lot to do tomorrow."