Free Offworld by Robin Parrish

familiar now felt like a violation. This
modest house was the closest thing she'd had in years that truly felt
the way a home should feel; it was inviting and warm, it expected
nothing of her, and it provided her with anything she might need,
whether that be comfort, solitude, or just a warm embrace.
    The house was Paul.
    But he had gone, and everything else about this place that made
it feel so inviting was gone too.
    A shell. An empty, awful echo.
    Paul, wherever you are ... I love you.
    And I miss youu.
    She took one last look around and wiped away the salty pools
that threatened to spill down her cheeks. A deep breath in and out,
and she swallowed the rising lump in her throat.
    I guess a lot can happen in two and a ha f :years.
    And all of her many random thoughts brought her to one, solitary conclusion. It resounded within her mind again and again and
again.
    I should have said yes.
    When he proposed, that night before the launch ... I should have
said yes.

    Chris found Mae after half an hour of searching the neighborhood. She was walking down the street alone, several blocks away,
carrying a large duffel bag.
    "Where have you been?" he demanded.
    "Scroungin'."
    She was either unable to pick up on his displeasure, or it just
didn't matter to her. He couldn't tell which.
    "Come on," he said. "Let's get back to the others."
    They walked in silence for a few moments before Chris asked,
"What's in the bag?"

    "Stuff."
    He was growing irritated. "What kind of stuff?"
    "Food. Towels. Shoes."
    Chris considered this. It did seem like the kinds of basic necessities
a homeless person would collect. `And where did you get it all?"
    Around. Figured they wasn't using it."
    "So ... you know? You know that everyone's gone?"
    " 'Course. All of 'em. Gone a while back."
    Chris knitted his eyebrows together. `And that didn't seem strange
to you? Suddenly being all alone in the world?"
    Mae shrugged. Always been alone in the world."
    He had no idea what to say to that. "Okay. But no more wandering off by yourself."

    When they got back to the vehicles, Trisha was already in the
SUV. Sitting, waiting, staring at nothing. Quietly. Owen and Terry
watched in silence from the truck.
    "We need to get back on the road, we've got one more stop to
make," Chris directed Mae.
    She climbed into the back of the truck again and dragged her
big bag up next to her. She was quickly filling up the truck's bed
with all of her "stuff."
    Chris swung into the SUV's driver seat and glanced briefly at
Trisha. He couldn't tell anything about what she'd found inside Paul's
house from her appearance. She excelled at masking things. He knew
this fact about her better than most.
    She was staring out her side window, refusing to face him.
    "Everything okay?" he asked, tentatively.
    "Mm-hmm," she replied.
    She said nothing for the next twenty minutes as the two vehicles
made their way to another suburb, this one a historical district near
Lake Cherokee.

    Filled with quaint older houses along a cobblestone street bursting
with ancient trees and shrubs, it was lovely, if a bit overgrown, and
much like Chris remembered it. He stopped the truck at the entrance
to the neighborhood.
    He fingered his earpiece. "I just need a few minutes. Make sure
Mae stays put this time."
    "Sure thing, boss," Terry replied.
    Chris exited the car and walked down the street alone.

    A few minutes later, Terry appeared outside of Trisha's car window. Owen was right behind him.
    "Trish? You, uh ... doing okay?" Terry nervously asked.
    "Of course," she said, coming into focus, collected and all business. "What do you need?"
    "Well," Terry went on, "I noticed there was a strip mall a couple
of blocks back. I was thinking this would be a good opportunity to
stock up on supplies. And I can't sit in the truck anymore, Trish, I
just can't. I'm going crazy with all this waiting."
    "Okay," replied Trisha. "Beech, you go with him. We probably
shouldn't split up any more