They stopped a few feet away. A sudden breeze rustled the trees, and then it fell silent. Both Luke and Glass held their breath, waiting for any sign of life, but none came.
Luke stepped up to the door, pressed his ear against it for a moment, then pushed it open and stepped inside before beckoning for Glass to join him. She took a deep breath, adjusted her pack, and crossed over the threshold. There was just enough light coming through the cracked, dust-caked windows for them to see the frozen tableau inside.
“Oh,” Glass murmured, half in surprise, half in sorrow. It was as if whoever lived there had stepped out for a moment but never come back. A small bed rested in the far corner. Next to it, stacked wooden boxes formed a dresser. Glass’s eyes darted across the tiny space. Opposite the bed was a kitchen that looked sized for a doll family. Pots and pans hung from nails in the wall. A lopsided wooden table sat, waiting for someone to join it, by the cold fireplace. A basin rested against a far wall, with clean dishes piled up on one side. The house seemed lonely, like it had been waiting for a long time for its family to come back.
Glass walked over to the table and ran her hand over its rough surface. Her hand came away dusty. She turned back to Luke.
“Can we stay here?” she asked, scared it might be too good to be true.
Luke nodded. “I think we should. It seems abandoned, and it’s clearly safer than staying out there.”
“Good,” Glass said, looking around, grateful for their good luck and for the chance to dispel the sense of loneliness that clung heavier than the dust. She dropped her pack to the floor and then reached for Luke’s hand. “Welcome home,” she said, rising onto her toes to kiss his cheek.
He smiled. “Welcome home.”
They went back outside to look for firewood and any supplies that might’ve survived. There was a tiny, half-collapsed wooden shed behind the house, but the only tool they found was a mangled shovel, rusted beyond use. Luckily, there were enough dried branches on the ground that they didn’t need an ax, at least not for now.
The faint sound of running water called out to them through the darkness. Glass took Luke’s hand and pulled him toward it. While the house was surrounded by trees on three sides, there was a slope at the back that led down to a river. “Look,” Luke said, pointing at a chunk of jagged wood that stuck out over the water. “It looks like they built something on the river. I wonder why.”
He tightened his grip on Glass’s hand and led her a little closer, taking care not to lose their footing in the dark. “Is that…” He trailed off as he pointed at an oddly-shaped shadow, a strange combination of sharp edges and curved lines.
“It’s a boat, isn’t it?” Glass said, taking a few steps closer to run a finger along it. It was cold, almost like metal but lighter. It had once been white, but most of the paint had peeled off, leaving nothing but large patches of rust. She peered inside and saw what appeared to be a paddle resting on the bottom. “Do you think it still works?”
Luke walked around the side, staring at it. “There doesn’t seem to be an engine, just the paddle. I guess that means if it still floats, it’ll work.” He turned to Glass and smiled. “Maybe when my wrist is better, we’ll give it a try.”
“Well, I have two functioning wrists. Unless you think I’m not up to the task.”
“You know there’s nothing I think you can’t do, my little spacewalker. I just thought it’d be romantic to take you for a boat ride.”
Glass leaned against him, nestling into his side. “That sounds wonderful.”
They stood there for a moment, watching the moonlight rippling on the water, then went back inside the house.
Using the matches he’d taken from the camp, Luke built a small fire in the fireplace while Glass took out their tiny supply of food. Neither had felt comfortable taking more than a few days of rations. “This is crazy,” Glass said, passing Luke a piece of dried fruit from her pack. “It’s like something out of a fairy tale. A house in the woods.”
Luke took a sip of water from his canteen, then passed it to Glass. “I wish we knew what happened to the people who lived here, whether they tried to make it through the Cataclysm, or whether they evacuated.” He looked around. “It seems like they might’ve left in a hurry.” There was a note of wistfulness in his voice that made it clear he’d been thinking the same thing as Glass.
“I know, it’s like the house held on to their memories long after they were gone.”
Growing up on the ship, believing in ghosts had seemed like the most foolish thing in the world. But here, on Earth, in this house, Glass was beginning to understand how someone could believe in a lingering presence.
“Well, then it’s our responsibility to replace them with some happy memories,” Luke said with a smile. He scooted closer to Glass and wrapped his arm around her. “Aren’t you warm in front of the fire? Don’t you want to take off your jacket?”
Glass grinned as he unzipped her jacket. She closed her eyes as he began kissing her, softly at first, then with more urgency. But as much as she wanted to lose herself in his touch, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought building in the back of her mind. Luke was wrong. You couldn’t replace sad memories with happy ones.
That was the thing about heartache. You never could erase it. You carried it with you, always.
Luke’s rhythmic breath was like a lullaby. Glass’s head rose and fell on his chest as he inhaled, exhaled. She had always envied his ability to pass out cold—the sleep of the innocent, her mother had always called it. Glass’s head was spinning too fast for her to fall asleep. She wished she could just enjoy the moment, savor the magic of lying next to Luke, but she could barely look at him without feeling a heavy pang of sorrow bang against her heart. They didn’t have much longer. Soon, Glass would have to end it, before Luke discovered the secret that would get them both killed.