Apocalypsis 03 - Exodus

instantly go cold.
    ***
    “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” it said.
    Winky nearly strangled me with her grip so high on my shoulders. I shook her off impatiently, still unable to see the source of the voice, but feeling the need to be ready to kick some serious ass. All I knew at this point was that it was a girl in there; which meant I had maybe a slightly better chance of fighting her off. I pulled my foot back and set it down outside the threshold.
    “Who are you?” I said into the dark space. The drapes were drawn back, but the light coming from outside wasn’t strong enough to completely light up the room.
    “A better question might be to ask who you think you are.”
    The sound of a match being struck reached my ears and the faint glow of candlelight trickled past the door.
    “This is my home. My place. You have no business here. Go away.”
    My mouth opened to say something in response, but my brain was short-circuiting. Who would live in a morgue like this? Who but a deranged, canner-murderer? I inched my feet apart, ready for her to make her move from behind the door. My only gauge for her location was the candlelight that was moving ever closer to where we were standing, making flickering and jumping shadows appear on the wall, looking like angry spirits dancing around.
    Winky was obviously in better control of her body than I was. Her voice sounded strong, coming from over my shoulder.
    “We’re looking for someone. We don’t mean any harm, and we’re not here to cause you any trouble at all. We’re peaceful.”
    A bitter laugh echoed in the room. “Peaceful. Yeah, right. I saw you on your bikes. I know who you are. You’re the ones who blew up my house.” The voice was just on the other side of the door now.
    She kept calling this place her house. It sounded too personal to mean anything but the most awful thing I could imagine.
    “When you say your house, do you mean this was your house before … like … when your parents were here?”
    At first there was no response. No sound at all. And then I heard a sniff.
    “Yes. This has been my home for eleven years, five months, two weeks, and one day.”
    I risked turning my head to look at Winky. She was staring at me, her eyes telling me she was getting the same impression I was. This girl has lost it. We were dealing with, at the very least, a girl who’d gone insane.
    Winky spoke again. “Please don’t shoot us. We’re just looking for someone. His name is Bodo.”
    I took over. “He’s tall, blue eyes, German accent … he’s funny and cute …” I knew I sounded lame, but this girl was giving me hope. She had lived here either as a canner or at least with them. Maybe she’d even seen things that had gone on, through her window.
    “You love him,” she said. It was simple and unembellished, save for one emotion: curiosity. As if it were something to be examined, this situation of a girl loving a boy in the middle of all this carnage.
    “Yes,” I said softly, the vulnerability I had with regard to Bodo coming through in my tone. I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d wanted to, but I didn’t care what this girl thought of me. Maybe if she knew how important he was to me, a stranger but someone who meant her no harm, she might be able or willing to help.
    We stood there, waiting for her response. The seconds ticked by and a slight breeze caused the candlelight to flicker. I grew impatient, and the not knowing who she was or what she had going on behind the door was eating away at my nerves.
    “Hello? Are you there?”
    No answer came.
    “Hello?!” said Winky in a much louder voice.
    I cringed, concerned we’d offended this person, whoever she was, and were causing her to go over the edge even further.
    But I needn’t have worried. She neither responded nor retaliated in any way. She remained silent.
    “What the hell?” whispered Winky softly in my ear.
    I motioned for her to follow me, crouching down and pushing the door open slowly … slowly … praying there wouldn’t be a loaded gun on the other side.
    ***
    I almost expected to see a ghost on the other side of the door. Or a crazed lunatic, bent on my destruction. I was not prepared for what I did see.
    Nothing. There was no one there. A candle flickered on a dresser in an old fashioned holder, steps away from the bed and across the room from where we stood at the entrance. But there was no girl, no person, no living thing that we could see in the dim