“You can stay in the barn for now. There’s a mattress up in the hayloft, a shower in one of the old horse stalls, and you can keep your bike in there as well. The barn is sturdier than it looks and no one ever goes in there.”
I stand up, Rena does the same, and I walk out of the front door as she goes to the back room to make me something to eat after I tell her I can’t remember when I last ate. I find my bike where I left it, walk it into the barn, and park it into one of the eight stalls that line the walls of the structure. I find the ladder for the loft, hoist both the duffle and satchel over my shoulders, then climb up.
The mattress Rena was referring to is just several blankets sewn together, with bits of tuft sticking out of the seams. I set my bags down and drag several hay bales over from the other side, lining them up between the mattress and wooden railing so I have some cover in case anyone decides to wander in. The position of the mattress allows me a perfect vantage point to see the drive into the Refuge. I will be able to see anyone who enters or exits, if they use the drive. I put the duffle bag at the head of the mattress to use as a pillow and remove both guns from the satchel, stashing them in-between the hay bales.
Hearing movement below me, I reach for one of the guns and look down to see Rena holding a plate of food in one hand, and blankets and towels in the other. I descend the ladder and meet her in the center of the building.
“The shower is over in that stall,” she says, pointing to the last stall on the left. “It’s not much, but the water runs. Here are a couple of towels and that blanket you used on the couch, along with an additional one. It can get cold out here at night. The only one here during the night-time is Terrance, and he sleeps in the bedroom at the northwest corner of the house. Let me know if you need anything else before I leave, which will be in about two hours.”
She hands me the plate, blankets, and towels. As she turns to go I ask her about the mattress up in the loft and why it’s there.
“My brother used to spend the night here. This is his place, but I haven’t seen him in years. He went out on a raid…and never came back.” Her face contorts as a memory takes hold.
I thank her as she quickly exits, holding back tears. Sitting down on the mattress and covering my lap with the blanket, I slowly eat my sandwiches - loaded with peanut butter. Once I have consumed about half of them, I grab a tank top and a pair of shorts then head back down the ladder to take a shower.
The floor of the stall is stained concrete, not hay like the rest of the barn. A makeshift shelf hangs precariously by the showerhead, with an old bar of soap and nothing else. There’s no shower curtain, so anyone who walks in will see me naked, but I’m too ready for a shower to care. I spot a broken mirror on the opposite wall, and take a quick glimpse of myself in the reflection, noticing the black and brown smudges all over my face, and my hair sticking up in spots, with bits of debris clinging to my scalp.
I shed my clothes with the exception of the covering on my arm, place the towels I’d picked up from the floor over the railing of the stall, turn the knob, and wait several minutes until the brown water that first comes out turns clear. My head hangs down as I stand under the cold trickle with my eyes closed. I turn and reach for the bar of soap, washing the layers of crud off before using it, then clean every inch of my body several times over, causing my skin to turn pink and raw from the vigorous scrubbing. I use the soap on my hair since I don’t have anything else, and pick out small bits of earth and wood. I even wash the covering on my arm, going gently over the area.
I shut off the tap, wrap myself up in the bath towel, and use my fingers to comb through my hair. After I’m dried off thoroughly, I put the newer clothes on even though they’re dirty, drape the towels over the rail to dry, then wander from stall to stall, looking for whatever I can find that might be of some use. Several stalls have hay bales; in another I find a washboard and tub, which I drag over to the shower and then go rummaging for some soap to wash my clothes only to come up empty. I climb back up the ladder with the blanket that had fallen earlier and finish off my sandwiches.
When the food is all consumed, I take the plate and head back to the house. Terrance is standing behind the bar when I walk in. He downs a small shot of liquid before motioning me over. He pours me a shot of Tequila and another one for himself, picks up his glass gesturing for me to do the same, and we drink. He smiles at me, takes my plate, and goes out through the back door. Rena walks out a few minutes later with two crates. I grab one from her shaky grasp and place it on top of the bar as she
