Danger Days

3

The car approached a white house. All of the windows were blown out, and the dirty panelling was falling off the sides. It was clear this home had been at or near the point of impact of at least one bomb.

Mikey pulled into the driveway, throwing the car into park. The engine purred, then sputtered out. "What's this place?" he asked, inspecting the structure.

Ray sighed. "Used to be my parent's place," he said. He cleared his throat and got out of the car before anyone could say more.

Frank got out of the car, holding the door open for Opal to exit behind him. She thanked him quietly before scurrying to Ray's side. Gerard stood, inspecting the house, with his hands shoved in his back pockets. He licked his teeth and kicked a rock before following Mikey inside.

Frank was the last to enter. He stepped a large room with two couches near the door, opposite the room from a narrow set of stairs. The back wall extended to a small kitchen, the two rooms divided by nothing but a small dining table. Broken glass littered the floors, dust covering nearly every surface.

Frank was overwhelmed by the sounds of the group settling. Every noise, no matter how quiet, seemed to echo between the thin walls. Glass cracked softly into carpet as Mikey stepped towards the dining room table. Opal hummed softly as she crept around the room. Gerard leaned against a wall, crossing his arms. His eyes were hard, but his brow was slightly furrowed as he inspected his surroundings.

Ray stood in the kitchen, leaning against a counter. He shook his head. "Well, this isn't gonna work," he said.

"What do you mean?" Frank asked.

"Look at all this... shit everywhere." Ray kicked something, and Frank heard the object thud against the counter. "It's fuckin' dangerous. I'm gonna try to find a broom or something and sweep some of this glass up."

Mikey nodded. "That's a good idea," he said. He raised his foot and inspected his boot, examining the sole for anything stuck inside. "I'll help you." He followed Ray through a doorway behind the stairs. Opal glanced between Frank and Gerard, then darted through the doorway after Mikey and Ray.

Frank looked at Gerard. Gerard was staring at anything in the room that wasn't Frank. Frank sighed, and the two stood in an intensely uncomfortable silence until the others returned. Mikey held a broom in his hand, but the other two were empty-handed.

"We couldn't find much," Mikey said. "We found some disinfectant wipes, but they were all dried up."

Opal held up a cloth. "I think I can dust with this?"

Ray trudged into the kitchen and leaned over. He picked up a jar of peanut butter and looked at it, then placed it into a cabinet and closed the door. He turned around to find that everyone in the room had watched him do it. Ray quickly averted his eyes to the floor. "Whatever," he said, "It's not like anyone lives here, anyway."

There was a clink as Opal shifted her foot, moving a piece of glass. As the sound resonated between every ear in the room, and each eye turned to her, she pulled her foot back, clasping her hands behind her back. Ray looked at her, then sighed and took the broom from Mikey's hand. He stepped into the kitchen, beginning to sweep.

Mikey crossed his arms and held a hand to his lips, then quickly wrinkled his face and began frantically wiping his hands on his pants.

The five of them spent the next hour doing as much as they could to make the house a home. Frank eventually grew tired, as he suspected they all did. He attempted to break the silence. "What's it been, a year?" he qualmed.

"Yeah, about," said Mikey. "But who knows? I haven't known what day it is since... I dunno. I guess that's my point."

Ray chuckled. "A year feels right," he said. He dropped the dust cloth on the counter and leaned back. "There. That, um, feels a little better, yeah? A little more homey."