Роберт Уилсон - Days Since... - Jenny - Day 986

He remained stiff, standing to her rear, rifle up and ready for whatever might wish them harm. “You tell me. You’re in charge.”

“Alright then…” Grabbing the screen door, Jenny tugged, but it was locked. This one’s always open. Uneasiness fell over her. “What the hell?” Would’ve been nice to clear the street from inside here. S he groaned, giving the door another quick jerk. “Someone might be inside…”

“So, what do you do now?” Danny asked.

“No choice but to go around front, right? Check and see what all we have.”

“Don’t want a different house?”

“If someone’s inside here, we don’t want them having an advantage on us if we’re moving around the street. This house has the best concealment. We’ve gotta clear it.”

“I knew you liked this house.”

“What?” Jenny bent an eyebrow. “Why you say that?”

“No reason…”

They took off toward the front. Past the back door and below the windows. Between the pallets of bricks. Over and around trees that hadn’t been planted, lying on their sides, root balls still wrapped in brown canvas. After rounding the rear corner and nearing the front of the house, Jenny startled. “Platz!” The three of them came to an immediate stop. Pain shot through her chest—her heartbeat racing. Her eyes darted back and forth along a stretch of footprints coming from the end of the street. Shit! She slammed her back against the house.

“What you got?” Danny asked.

“Footprints come— coming from the dead end of the street.” She pointed, her finger nearly shaking loose from her hand. “Between those houses near the woods. They come this way, but— but I can’t tell exactly where they end up.”

“Find out!”

Jenny closed her eyes, collecting her thoughts, her bearings, searching for the word she needed to ensure Sherman wouldn’t move. She kept the lead tight within her hand, fearful of letting it go. Then, it came. “Bleib,” she ordered, glancing over to Sherman. Worried he wouldn’t heed the command, she only inched her foot forward half a step. He didn’t move, didn’t even seem to consider it, so she dropped the lead to the ground. Can’t risk you yanking me if I’m aiming at something. Stay put for me boy.

Creeping toward the front corner of the house, Jenny rocked her rifle up and into her shoulder, clearing the far end of the street. Working her way across, she steadied the muzzle over the houses opposite them. Two of them were merely frames, no basement. However, the house next to those was nearly habitable, similar to the one Jenny was currently hunkered down against.

Take it slow… The garage was open. No one inside. Each window appeared vacant, but she had no choice but to take several passes—her attention slow and methodical in clearing every perch, every nook that someone could settle in. Each additional pass over the house convinced her it sat empty. Nothing seemed disturbed. No real sign of life. No footprints across its yard. But it was always possible someone could’ve snuck through from behind. She had to consider the possibility. After all, they had done the same.

“Okay…” She puffed a few breaths. She retreated from the corner only slightly, angling back to pie off the nearside. Piece by piece, her muzzle revealed more of the same. The stillness of the street. Lifeless. I really don’t think anyone’s here. “These footprints have got to be old.”

“You willing to bet your life on it?”

No… “Alright, boy,” she said. “Seek!” The canine sprung from his position. Jenny and Danny followed—rifles back in position, covering Sherman as he rushed straight to the cut of footprints through the yard. Amazing! These police dogs don’t mess around. His nose hovered just above the snow, deliberate. He straightened up for a split second then turned away from the far end of the cul-de-sac. “Can he tell which way the prints are going?” she asked Danny over her shoulder.

“Something like that. He can pick up on where the scent is stronger, but we should probably look at the prints and see which way they’re pointing. Give him a little help.”

“Doesn’t look like he needs it,” she said, impressed with the fact Sherman was now scurrying for the house. Jenny hugged the front wall, taking a beeline to meet Sherman on the porch. Upon approach, she immediately noticed the fractured jamb, the door ajar. “Platz.” From outside, she visually cleared what she could of the front rooms and held her position against the jamb, rifle out, sights aligned, targeting the inside. “It’s been kicked in.” Her words were quick and low to Danny.

This… She struggled to gather her thoughts. To her, this was supposed to be a training exercise. Practice. Something to hone her skills, to show Danny she’d been paying attention. It all became too real in too big a hurry. She swallowed, her breaths speeding uncontrollably from her gaping mouth. The handkerchief gathered moisture, becoming uncomfortably cold against her skin. Briefly, her eyes searched for advice in Danny’s face, but there was nothing offered. He simply dipped his chin, pushing her to go on.

Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this…? Maybe Danny was right. She couldn’t help but think this kind of stress, this rise and fall of adrenaline, of her heartbeat, was bad for the pregnancy. “Danny…” It pained her to finish what she was about to say. “I—I can’t do this.”

“You asked for this now finish it.” He gestured toward the door.

Jenny shook her head. “No. The baby. I can’t… I can’t risk getting hurt.”

“Damn it, Jenny! You dragged us out here in the damn snow for your selfish— whatever the hell the reason was. You’re not backing out now. Sometimes we don’t get a choice. Sometimes you just have to handle what comes your way. That baby isn’t an excuse. She’s gonna be your reason to live. To push through. You either want to fight and survive or not. And whatever your choice is will affect your baby! So it’s time to grow the fuck up!”

She swallowed. The truth hurt going down. The mix of emotions that had swelled inside her throat pained her to ingest. He’s right. I have to learn to protect my baby. I don’t have a choice. She stared blankly into the house. The rifle shook in her hands, her muscles beginning to burn from its weight. I just have to train until I’m the best. I have Danny. I have Sherman. I can do this. “Danny, hold the entrance.”

“There you go.”

“Sherman, seek!” she called out.

The retired police canine curled to the right and through the foyer toward the back hallway. Jenny went left into a living room. Drywall, absent paint—no carpet or hardwood, simply plywood subflooring riddled with wet footprints. Someone had certainly been through here. Fairly recent by the looks of it. Luckily for Jenny, if anyone was still here and absent-minded enough to move, there would be no hiding it. The clacking of Sherman’s claws echoed around the corners of every room. There was little doubt that any other movement wouldn’t be so easily heard.

Stealthily, she advanced through the unfinished living room, past a fireplace, posting up at the corner with her eyes floating over the rifle’s sights. The wet prints tracked through a galley kitchen and cut right to a door sitting partially open. Jenny pulled it wide, then descended a flight of stairs leading into the basement. Bare walls of the foundation. Concrete floor. Studs separating what would have been different rooms. A waste of time. No one. It was cleared within a minute of entering.

Back in the kitchen, she turned right from the basement, continuing into the dining room. More of the same. Nothing but bare walls and plywood. In the family room, at the rear of the house, she double-checked the backdoor. Still locked. From there, she came full circle into the foyer. A flight of stairs to her right and a hallway that led into two first-floor bedrooms. “Hier.” Sherman promptly exited one of the back rooms and went to her, settling in at the foot of the stairs leading to the second floor.