mailbox beside the door. Her fingers patted around until she found the key.
The house was stuffy and smelled a little musty from being closed up for so long. Carly scanned the living room, preserved just the way it had been Before. Her gaze lingered on the dark television set. She hadn’t seen one of those in a while. Most people had shoved them into storage, those who still clung to some faint hope they’d be able to use them again someday. Others had thrown them out despite Justin’s suggestion they might contain components they’d find useful someday. Many electric lamps had gone the same way, tossed into the garbage pit on the edge of town.
“It’s not much, but it’s yours if you want it,” Carly said. “There’s other stuff at the furniture store if you want to change any—”
“This is fine.” Pearl ran her fingers over the flowered upholstery of the sofa. “It reminds me of my mom’s furniture.”
Her voice contained the same wistful sadness as Carly’s did when she spoke of her family. Carly’s throat tightened.
“My mom had green and white gingham.” She had lain on that couch while she watched the world fall apart. Carly took a deep breath and forced herself back to the present. “If you need anything, don’t be shy about asking, okay?”
“Thanks, Carly. I’m sorry I’ve been so suspicious. This place just seems to be too good to be true, you know? I keep expecting to open a door and find your Soylent Green factory.”
Carly nodded, though she had no idea what Pearl was talking about with the reference. She’d have to ask Justin later. But she understood what Pearl meant about it feeling too good to be true after being out in the wasteland. She’d had the same feeling when they’d first come to Colby and found it a still-functioning town, societal structure intact, shops still open. Mindy had been so freaked out by it, she’d refused to even go to the town meeting.
“Have a good night,” Carly said. She turned to go and stopped in the doorway for a moment. “Pearl? I’m glad you’re here.”
Pearl gave Carly a smile and dropped her pack on the floor with a thump, a sound that rang with a note of finality. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”
Chapter Four
Justin spent the night in his favorite tree—an ancient oak, with wide, comfortable limbs that were perfectly positioned to keep an eye on the house and to be able to scan the fence line through a night scope—but the intruder had not returned.
The whole town was on a state of high alert, the Watch patrols increased. At one point, he saw their newest resident ostensibly on an evening stroll, but he could see even at this distance that she was checking out the place. He grinned. Pearl was going to fit in better than she thought, but he wanted to have a talk with her.
His chance came when Pearl showed up for his class the next evening. It was a practical lesson in which he showed the students how to mix and use a homemade version of napalm, a simple mixture that clung to surfaces as it burned. The store mannequins he’d set up in a parking lot were blazing at the end of the night, and he warned the young men, all of whom had an excited, speculative gleam in their eyes, that he’d make them very sorry if he heard of them experimenting at home with it. The last thing they needed was a fire in town. One of his students, Kross, had proven himself very adept at explosives, but Justin didn’t want the kid screwing around and blowing himself up. Kross’s eyes sparkled with excitement, and a bit of a flush had crept up under his dark honey-colored skin. He lingered after class and suggested other mixtures, and Justin enjoyed explaining what wouldn’t work and why. A creative mind was always a pleasure.
Afterward, Justin didn’t head home, and Pearl showed no surprise when she answered her door. “You and I need to have a talk,” he said.
She nodded. “I thought you would want to.”
She gestured at the porch swing, and