“Does Rocky have a coat?” Henry asked.
The dog trotted around the living room merrily; totally clueless to the trouble they were in.
“Oh, yeah,” Raven answered. “It’s in the closet. I’ll get it.”
Her booted feet made little noise on the carpet. She’d just shampooed it last week and it was bright blue again, just like Mom had kept it. The grandfather clock bonged out the hour, striking six times. It was tall and made of well-polished mahogany; little brass numbers and two hands decorated its face. Raven touched the wood, running her hand across her smooth arch. It was not lost to her that she was saying goodbye to the home she’d grown up in. She sighed heavily.
Raven opened the closet and a landslide of clothes and books flowed out.
Henry let out a harsh bray. “Some things don’t change,” he said, laughter riding his voice.
Raven smiled and reached into the pile, tossing aside a bunch of pillowcases and ancient magazines. After a moment of searching, she unearthed Rocky’s winter coat. She sat back on her heals, holding it up triumphantly. It was black and lined with sheepskin; made of waterproof material. It fit him like a horse blanket.
“That’s a nice one,” Henry said. “I had one like that for Nutmeg.”
Nutmeg a female chow that he’d had until her death a couple of years ago. She had been a temperamental thing but he’d loved her, taking her everywhere. Why she needed a coat at all, Raven wasn’t sure.
All that fur, she thought, glad that Rocky had short hair. “Come here, Rocky,” she said, patting her thigh. “It’s nearly time to go.” She felt trepidation with those words and her heart fluttered briefly in her throat.
Rocky padded to her and she buckled his jacket around him. He wagged his tail and shifted his shoulders beneath the coat. “Good dog,” she said, patting his head and giving him a biscuit.
“Ready?” Henry asked, rising from the lounger he’d been sitting in.
Her brother was dressed in dark jeans and boots. She thought he’d be warm enough with his work jacket but being his sister she had to ask.
“Did you bring enough layers?” she asked, gesturing to him. “I think some of your old clothes are still here somewhere.” She looked at the closet with dismay.
Henry laughed. “I’m fine, sis. You don’t have to go digging in the closet again.” He spread the flaps of his jacket. “I’m wearing Under Armour.”
“All right. The bags are piled by the door.”
“How much did you pack?” Henry asked, concern in his voice.
“Probably too much,” Raven grinned. “But,” she gesticulated into the air, “the bags are numbered one through four in the order of importance. Bag one being the most crucial with food, water and basic medical supplies.” They were all black duffel bags and necessitated numbering. She’d done it in white paint with broad strokes.
Henry’s lips compressed and he was obviously holding back laughter. “What’s in bag four?”
“Entertainment,” Raven replied. “You know, books and magazines and things like that.” She answered. “I also packed a deck of cards.” She grinned. When they were growing up, she and Henry had epic battles of Go Fish, Gin Rummy and Hearts. The games got very serious and there were a few times when one or both of them ended up in tears. Mom and Dad had tried taking the cards away after some of the bad fights, but Raven had always pleaded to get them back, promising they’d behave better.
Henry laughed. “That’s cool. If I remember correctly you were a pretty good Rummy player, sis.”
She bowed sarcastically, smiling.
Rocky barked, shattering the calm. She and Henry shared a look.
“Is someone outside?” Raven asked, shushing her dog. Rocky continued to growl menacingly.
“I don’t know, maybe,” Henry responded. “Let’s go check it out.”
Henry crept to the window and Raven signaled Rocky to follow.
The dog acquiesced, walking behind her stealthily, head lowered and tail held out straight. The fur along his spine stood at attention.
Raven and Henry stood on either side of the large bay window.
Henry had made sure to close the rest of the curtains, not wanting anyone alive or dead and walking around to peer in.
Raven nodded and pulled the curtain open a sliver. What she saw froze her breath in her throat. Mr. McNairy was walking just inches from her, totally nude and covered in drying blood. His bulbous belly had large chunks bitten out of it and his freckled skin had a distinctly blue pallor.
“Gross,” Henry murmured. “His whang is just dangling there.”
“Shut up,” Raven said, gripping the curtains.
Mr. McNairy plodded through her yard, crushing her azaleas underfoot. He reached the driveway, veered around Henry’s truck and continued down the road.
“Whew,” Raven sighed, leaning back against the wall. “Are you sure we have to go out there?” She knew the answer. Henry was right. It wasn’t safe here. All of the open windows that she loved as they brought in so much light were dangerous now and they had no sure way of covering them up.
Henry nodded. “I don’t see any way to stay,” he answered, still looking out of the window. “We should go now, while the coast is clear.”
She could see her brother’s tense expression in the crease of his brow. Raven made a decision. Whatever happened they would stay together, she, Henry and Rocky. “Okay,” she said, voice firm. “You grab two bags and I’ll get the others.”
Walking softly across the carpet and keeping Rocky at a close heel, Raven picked up bags one and three. Henry grabbed the remaining two and they strode to the front door.
“Are you ready?” he asked, swallowing audibly.
“Yes,” Raven answered.
