Imoh

Chapter 3

I open the trapdoor, give Miky a final look and go down the steps. When I touchdown the bottom and look up, she's already going down herself, fast. She lands right after me. We look at each other and she's just standing there, out of breath staring with her big eyes open wide. What's the deal? Did she think I was leaving her behind? Even if I had locked the door behind me, she knew where to find me. It would have been silly.

Anyhow, ...

- Did you lock the trap? I ask her.

She tries to answer but croak instead. She tries to swallow and I leave her there because I can't wait for her to finish. Walking back up the stairs, I check if the door is properly locked and go back down swiftly. She's still standing there, panting and visibly shaking.

Not sure what to do or to say to her as I'm not reassured by her presence and now being locked with her, either. So, I walk past her, remove my backpack and leave it on the floor. She's still at the bottom of the ladder and I remember I'm supposed to be an hostess, with "guests".

- Welcome to my home. My den. My lair, I exclaim loudly with my arms open.

Miky jumps and her mouth opens in a silent "Oh". Okay, I don't have time for this. A decision is needed and fast.

- I'm going to take a shower, I tell her pointing toward my back to the washroom. Make yourself at home.

Not waiting for an answer, I turn around and disappear in the bathroom. For the first time, since I leave here, I lock the door. Better not be jammed. No re-enaction of Psycho tonight. I had to trust her enough to leave her alone while I'm showering but there's limit to my faith.

That first night is going to be tough. Believing she would not kill me outside was a gamble and I was able to sleep with her close by thinking that the goal is get to my hideout. Now that she's finally there, the truth of her intentions is about to be revealed. Brace yourself.

A short shower is sensible, but the feeling of the warm was too good. I'm dressing up speedily to catch up the wasted time and open the door inch by inch and pause to listen. Nothing. I look left and right and as no hammer caves my head-in, I leave the washroom and walk toward the living area. She's seating cross-legged on the floor reading a magazine.

She looks so tiny and fragile, I feel silly to be scared of her.

- You foolish woman.

I tut and she looks up. She's on here feet in a fraction of a second which makes me jumps backward. What is wrong with this woman? She's going to give me a heart attack. We both look at each other and I'm tempted after a while to ask her what the eff she's staring at.

Remembering my role, I ask her instead if she wishes to take a shower. I should have asked her to go first but I'm a bit rusted with hospitality rules so leave me alone already. I'm trying!

She nodes and I leave the room to get her towels and clothing. I'm assuming she doesn't have a change of clothe or, if she does, they are surely as disgusting as those she's currently wearing. We will clarify that later.

While she's in the shower, I will prepare our diner. It will be a feast. Not to welcome her but because after a difficult forage, I always have a feast to celebrate the fact that I'm still alive (sight) and to cheer me up. She doesn't know that so she can take it the way she wants.

I hope she follows my instructions to take her time to scrub and remove weeks (months?) of grim off her skin. Hopefully she's not one of those who are scared of water and/or soap, one of those stinky who enjoy soaking in their own BO. Gosh, with my luck it will be one of those! Damned. I knew I should have dumped her somewhere. Why can't you find a well when you need one? As if I could have thrown her down a well. Rolling eyes.

While I was getting excited by my imagination, she had finished her ablutions and stepped into the kitchen. I felt a tingling between my shoulders so I turned with a start. She's standing there, all cleaned up with a huge smile on her face. She looks so happy with all her teeth out, I burst out laughing. She joins quickly and we are now both laughing like two bloody seals on an iceberg. My ribs hurt but I can't stop. Who knows why she's laughing, but I think we needed this to release so much tension pressured for so long.

We eventually manage to stop giggling like crazy and we look at each other and smile. I wink at her. Yep, it felt good. That released the tension a big bit too.

Time to eat. I pick myself up and she's already on her feet, springing up like a jack in a box. She needs to stop doing that. Youths!

I offer to dress the table and I point at the cupboard where she can find all she needs. She does, going back and forth from the kitchen to the living room. 

I finish preparing diner and she helps bringing the dishes to the table. I understand now why she did so many trips to the living room. She set the table the best she could to make it nice. Tablecloth, candles, she even found a kind of vase with fake flowers in it. 

There are also things we are not going to use for dinner, colourful objects to lift up the table. This makes me smile. We should not waste the candles but I will let it pass this time. I look at her still smiling and her face looks so eager to please it makes me chuckle. 

Okay, I should give her a break. The poor thing may be terrified as well. The fear to be alone might be stronger than my distrust or even hers. We are both alone and scared. We should try to help each other.

Our feast would be probably be laughable for people in a normal world, but for us, it's incredible. Everything is from boxes, cans, dehydrate and similar but it's a lot of food and variety when there is nothing left to eat outside. 

She honours the meal and I look at her with amazement. She's like a walking hoover. She barely chews and just swallows everything on the table. She's going to be sick and I'm not cleaning up after her. Not me! She's old enough to know.

She must have been so hungry. There's no more crumbs on the plates and the table so she finally seats back and this huge smile is back. I don't know how she does it. My cheeks hurt only to look at her.

We stay up late that first night. 

After putting away everything from the table and doing the dishes, we got comfy and exchanged stories, telling each other what happened to us, properly. 

She's already told me that she left her home after her parent died and that she was alone but she told me the all story that night. 

Miky, was sheltered before, during and for long after the madness. Her parents were Survivors. They planned for the end of the world their whole life. So, when it finally arrived, they were ready. They stayed put and kept on living as if the outside world has stopped existing. 

All was well until the mother got sick and started to eat the father. When they both turned toward their daughter, she used the shotgun she grew up shooting beer bottles and cans with.

She would never have thought she would use it on her parents, on anything alive, for that matter. Merci killing is a B as it doesn't stop you from feeling sick in your stomach for doing it. She swore to never kill anything again and preferred a heavy wooden rolling pin instead of a piece of the many weapons in the family's armoury.

Stop laughing. If Rapunzel has a frying pan, why not a rolling pin? She never had to use it, fortunately. I don't think she would have ended on top with that thing.

She stayed home for a while taking care of the camp, after burying her parents. But then she got restless and wanted to find answers too. Dummy! She left her home and for a very long time didn't meet anyone or anything. Until she did.

Being really good at being quiet and surviving, she stayed alive and avoided bad encounters. But she saw and heard enough from far away to become a human Scoubi-Doo, scared out of her mind of her own shadow. And it seems she has found her Sammy.