Human Element

by AJ Powers

  Shortly before dusk, they heard the helicopter finally arrive. It was far enough away that they weren’t particularly concerned about it, but knowing that it was flying around because of them gave them some added motivation to move a little quicker.

  “Hang tight for a second,” Aaran said when he spotted a shallow spot to cross the creek. He made his way to the other side, the shivers in his body intensifying with each inch the water came up his legs. Fortunately, it was nowhere near as deep as the Little Miami River. Sloshing out on the other side, Aaran used tree branches and exposed roots to climb up the steep, muddy embankment. Once up top, he scanned the horizon to get his bearings and figure out where they were. He spotted a small house—or perhaps a large cabin—sitting just in front of a line of trees about a mile away. About fifty yards ahead, he spotted a gravel road that ran right past the house. It had stopped snowing a couple of hours before, and with the ground still fairly warm, most of what had accumulated had already melted. The gravel road had almost no signs of snow, allowing them to walk without leaving tracks.

  Aaran turned around and walked down the embankment as far as he could without skiing down the rest of the way. “You think you can make the climb with one arm?”

  “Guess we’re going to find out.”

  “’Atta girl,” Aaran said before turning around to verify there were no threats in the area. It was still and quiet. He turned back around just as Hadas finished crossing the creek. Without fanfare or witty quips, Hadas started her climb. It took a lot longer than either of them expected, but she finally climbed high enough for Aaran to grab her hand and help her the rest of the way.

  As soon as the ground leveled off, Hadas grabbed a bottle of water out of her pack while she recovered from the intense, physical exertion from climbing the hill. She guzzled down nearly half the bottle before gasping for air. Wearily, she said, “I’m ready for bed.”

  Aaran looked toward the house. “Me, too.”

  Chapter 23

  The activity in the distance was concerning, but it was a good ways off and didn’t seem to be getting closer. Aaran had to fight the urge to move faster as they walked down the gravel road. Besides battling his own exhaustion and injuries, Hadas was in pretty rough shape. Despite the urgency nagging at Aaran, Hadas had significantly slowed her pace. He could hear her moaning in pain every couple of minutes.

  When they turned down the driveway of the small house that Aaran had spotted from the creek, Aaran’s relief felt as if a physical weight had been lifted from his shoulders. An abundance of trees surrounded the area, and no other houses were within eyeshot. The house was completely out of view from any major roads. Stumbling across the house had been a much-needed dose of good fortune.

  That is, if the house wasn’t online.

  Aaran’s eyes dragged along the top of the house, looking for that iconic signal router jutting out of the roof. Fortunately, all he saw on the roof—from where he stood, anyway—was an array of early generation solar panels. And while the ancient technology did not guarantee an offline house, it was usually a good indicator.

  Twenty yards off to the side of the house was a large propane tank. The mere thought of a hearty, hot meal immediately put Aaran in a much better mood—he could already feel the can of chili in his backpack burning his tongue. Of course, with his recent luck, he expected the entire 500-gallon tank would be bone-dry.

  A little beyond the tank was a detached, single car garage that was not in terrible shape, but it wasn’t in good shape either. Hopefully, another good sign that the previous owners of the house hadn’t upgraded to the mind-controlling technology beforehand.

  Aaran felt blood collecting over his eyebrow again and gave it another swipe. His coat sleeve was so saturated that his efforts only smeared the blood around his forehead. He was hopeful to find a legitimate medical kit inside the house. If he couldn’t, Aaran might have a date with a stapler and some rubbing alcohol later.

  Despite his eagerness to settle into the house, both he and Hadas were moving at a snail’s pace by the time they reached the house. If it weren’t for the sling attached to his carbine, the muzzle would have been dragging along the ground ten minutes ago. As they approached, Aaran glanced around the side of the house, stopping just short of the front porch. Nothing about the place convinced him that it was occupied, but then again, he’d felt the same way at the trailer park, and that massive lapse in judgment had nearly cost them their lives. Instead of assuming—especially in their injured, non-combat-ready state—Aaran deemed a thorough sweep was necessary, but he dreaded doing the task, especially alone.

  He looked over at Hadas, who was fighting through the pain in her shoulder. “I’ll check things out and make sure there aren’t any surprises waiting for us inside. Why don’t you get behind some cover in case someone comes out guns-a-blazing,” Aaran said, pointing toward the 500-gallon propane tank.

  Hadas looked over at the tank, then back at Aaran. “Good call. Standing behind a container full of combustible gas does seem like the ideal place to hide during a gunfight.”

  Aaran exhaled loudly and squeezed his eyes shut. At least her pain hadn’t dulled her sardonic wit. “Okay, so that wasn’t one of my more brilliant ideas…”

  “Yeah, not so much.”

  “Fine. Well, then, I guess try not to die if people start shooting.”

  “You, too,” she said as she gingerly walked toward the porch.

  Aaran staggered around the exterior of the house, peeking in through the windows wherever he could. All the lights were off. There didn’t appear to be any activity from what he could see, but with daylight fading, it was difficult to tell. Based on what he could see inside and outside the house, Aaran was confident it was empty—and offline. All that was left for him to do was to get inside and confirm his conclusions. Unfortunately, both the front and back doors were locked, and he was unable to shimmy open any of the lower windows. If they were going to call the house home, even for just the night—which was more than a little optimistic, given just how roughed up they were—Aaran didn’t want to damage the door or lock in the process of getting in. He called Hadas over.

  “Think you can pick it?”

  “Well, yeah, I could. Except, you know, that whole excruciating pain thing whenever I move my shoulder.”

  Aaran puffed his cheeks out and exhaled. He was too tired to learn how to pick a lock tonight, but he didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. “Guess I’ll give it a try. Where’s your pick set?”

  “In my left pocket,” she said, shifting her hips toward him. “You’re gonna have to fish it out yourself, but so help me, if I feel those fingers stray anywhere else besides that box…” she said, a dose of her sarcasm finally surfacing after such a brutal day.

  Aaran shirked off the comment and dug his hand down into her pocket, quickly retrieving the pick set.

  With her good arm, Hadas held a flashlight up so Aaran could see what he was doing, though, the skill was far more about feel than sight. As patiently as she could, Hadas talked Aaran through each step of the process, giving him the knowledge he needed to perform the task. However, knowledge didn’t equate to experience, and Aaran struggled despite his basic understanding of how lock-picking should work. It took nearly ten curse-filled minutes for him to figure it out, but Aaran finally disengaged the lock.

  He twisted the handle and pushed the door open. “All right. Back in a few.”

  Hadas walked over to the porch swing and sat down. “Take your time. I’ll just be over here, freezing my ass off.”

  Though he was confident nobody was home, Aaran’s heart rate spiked when he crossed the threshold and entered the house. Hovering his finger just above the trigger, he swept his Scorpion to the left, clearing the living room before moving to the dining room. The first floor, which was mostly open with a staircase right in the middle, was quickly cleared. He slowly made his way up the steps and found that the upstairs was one giant loft-like space, a king-sized bed up
against the back wall.

  Dusty shelves and undisturbed trinkets reassured Aaran that the house was empty. Nevertheless, he checked the closet anyway. Inside, as one would expect, was a decent wardrobe of men’s and women’s clothing. Cut almost perfectly down the middle, the left side held a myriad of blouses, dresses and pants ranging from funeral black to tacky, vibrant plaid. The other side was similar in range, from Carhartt overalls to an Armani suit. Both halves had dedicated space for the ‘his and hers’ camo-pattern hunting gear. The diverse wardrobe was among the strangest things Aaran had come across since he’d left home, and that was saying something.

  The house was empty, but Aaran took a few extra minutes to doublecheck every door to make sure he wasn’t missing a basement or hidden bedroom. Satisfied with his efforts, he walked back to the front door and leaned his head out. “All clear,” he said, nodding inside.

  Hadas groaned when she got off the porch swing. In just the few short minutes her muscles had to rest, the pain had set in. She limped over to the door and Aaran stepped out of the way to let her in. He closed the door behind them and locked up. It was a solid oak door, and the deadbolt meant business. Anyone getting through the front door would have to make a lot of noise to do it, provided they didn’t have the lock-picking skills Hadas had, so he felt comfortable with the setup.

  “What now?” Hadas asked.

  “There’s not much daylight left. Upstairs is going to be our best bet, but we’ll need to do something with the windows before we go testing any of the light switches—assuming the solar panels on the roof are still juicing the house.”

  “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

  “Let’s take a look around and see what we can find to cover the windows. Why don’t you go and check the kitchen and I’ll poke around over here,” he said, pointing to the living room area.

  Going their separate ways, Aaran began his search in the living room. The interior decoration was confusing at best—a strange combination of rustic lodge meets modern living. In the middle of the room was a brown, leather sofa that looked nice enough to belong in the White House—if that was even still standing, anyway. Taking up a sizeable chunk of the wall in front of the couch was a flat-screen TV. A 16k OLED that would have fetched for about four grand, even during Black Friday sales. Sitting in front of the couch was a coffee table made from repurposed pallets assembled with heavy-duty iron rivets. Metal milk jugs that had been repurposed into lamps sat atop the finely crafted side tables that flanked either end of the couch. The walls looked to have been decorated by a taxidermist with a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. Animal heads and largemouth bass were separated by framed reproductions of some of the most well-known paintings and photography around the world. The cream-colored wallpaper with floral trim was the perfect backdrop for the immeasurably varying works of “art” proudly on display.

  As Aaran took in the eclectic décor surrounding him, the couple’s wardrobe upstairs started to make a little more sense. The former occupants of the house were unique, there was no denying that. But at the same time, there was something homey about the design choices they’d made, and it was already growing on Aaran. He liked doing outdoorsy things himself—though a little less so now than before—but also appreciated modern technology—again, a little less so now—to the point where he started to understand the owners a little more.

  On the far wall was more of the same: deer and da Vinci’s next to mallards and Monet’s. Mounted perfectly in the center of the wall, with no other animal or painting within two feet, was a three-photo picture frame. In the middle slot was a quote:

  LIFE’S TOO SHORT NOT TO DO WHAT YOU LOVE.

  The photographs to either side of the quote were of the same man and woman who appeared to be in their thirties. In one photo, they were wearing hunting gear as they knelt next to a row of dead birds. Their bright smiles were contrasted by the mud and dirt caked onto their faces as they looked at the camera, each one holding a shotgun. The other picture was the couple at a black-tie event. The man was wearing an expensive-looking tuxedo, and the woman wearing an elegant black dress with a neckline that was difficult to look away from. The starkly different snapshots in history aptly displayed that the couple lived by the printed mantra separating the two photos. They didn’t live by the rules society had put on most people. They had enjoyed the fancy things in life, yet weren’t afraid to get down and dirty with nature. It was an admirable trait that few people had.

  Despite feeling like he’d gotten to know the people who had lived in the house a little better, Aaran’s search in the living room was fruitless. He walked over toward the kitchen as Hadas was walking out.

  “Find anything?” she asked.

  “Nothing that’s gonna help with the windows. What do you have?” Aaran nodded toward the box in Hadas’s hands.

  She held the box of black, heavy-duty trash bags out for Aaran to see.

  “I feel like I am supposed to make a maid joke right about now,” Aaran said with a chuckle, recalling his comment back at the trailer. Hadas, still in a great deal of pain, failed to find the humor in the statement. “I’m just kidding, those are a good find. They’ll work perfectly. Now, I just need to find some tape or something to hang it up with. Did you see any in there?”

  “No.”

  “All right. Maybe there’s something out in the garage we can use.”

  Aaran walked back out into the cold November evening, Hadas following close behind. The temperature drop as they went back outside was almost alarming. It wasn’t that it had been hot inside, but the shift was far more noticeable than usual. This house must have really good insulation, Aaran thought.

  He spotted the padlock on the garage door from across the yard. “Looks like I’m going to get some more practice with that pick set,” he said as he walked up to the door to investigate the lock. Or more importantly, the latch. “Well, maybe not.” Aaran reached down and pulled his knife out of its sheath and stuck the tip of the blade near the edge of the latch. After a bit of digging, he had enough of the blade beneath the rusted latch that he was able to pry it about an eighth of an inch away from the door. That allowed him to fit more of the blade under the latch, and the rest quickly surrendered, pulling away from the weakened wood.

  With the lock now only attached to the doorframe, Aaran effortlessly opened the door. Once his eyes adjusted to the dark room inside, a smile crept across his face. “Well, well, well…What do we have here?”

  Chapter 24

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  There was a look of hesitation in Hadas’s eyes, but she nodded nonetheless.

  “It’s going to hurt. Probably a lot.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean, it’s not like I’m real experien—”

  “Aaran, just shut up and do it!”

  “Okay,” he replied, a waver in his voice.

  Aaran had never been so unsure of himself than he was at that very moment. He had learned a little bit about this kind of stuff in school, and his father had also taught him a little during that camping trip, but he never imagined he would be in the position he was with Hadas.

  Aaran’s breath was heavy and quick as his heart raced. He softly caressed Hadas’s arm, feeling her tremble as his hand carefully traveled across her smooth skin. She whimpered when he wrapped his fingers just above her elbow. His eyes never left hers.

  “Don’t hate me,” he said as he swiftly grabbed her wrist before pulling her arm with all his might.

  Her blood-curdling shriek ripped through the night before transforming into a primal moan. The sound sent shivers down Aaran’s spine; it would not be one he would soon forget. Hadas’s eyes screamed of pain. Then betrayal. And finally, rage.

  Before Aaran could revel in his success for relocating Hadas’s shoulder, her closed fist was rapidly coming his way. Aaran was unprepared for the strike and had no time to fend off the attack.

  “Son of a...! Damn it, Hadas!” he said a
s he stumbled backwards, his hand reaching for his eye. “Thank you, for that.”

  Hadas was still reeling from the pain, but the agony in her expression morphed into embarrassment over her response. Her eyes were wide and she cupped her mouth with her hand. “Holy crap! Aaran, I am so sorry. I-I couldn’t control that.”

  Aaran inhaled sharply between clenched teeth. “Sure. I bet you’ve just been waiting for an excuse to do that,” he said through a grimace.

  “You’re such an ass.”

  “Says the girl who just slugged her doctor for fixing her up,” he replied as he rubbed his throbbing cheek.

  Hadas looked genuinely offended by his response.

  Putting the painful sequence of events behind them, the mood gradually lightened as the evening went on. Though they both felt like they had just been through class five rapids without a raft, they expected the soreness only to worsen come morning. But there was a sense of optimism in the air that neither had felt in quite some time. It had started with the flip of a light switch in the loft upstairs. The pitch-black room had suddenly lit up like a football stadium on Sunday night. It had been too much light for either of them, so they resorted to using the two dim lamps sitting on the bedside tables.

  Concerned that the light was bleeding through the sealed windows, Aaran wandered around outside searching for any light seeping through the new window coverings—it was as dark as a moonless night. The thick, contractor-grade garbage bags, along with the duct tape they’d found in the garage, worked better than he could have hoped.

  To their astonishment, the bright lights weren’t the only comfort the loft offered. A TV had sprung to life when Aaran mindlessly pressed the power button as he’d searched the dresser it’d was propped on. A small digital media player—complete with hundreds of movies and TV shows, all locally stored on the twenty-terabyte hard drive—was connected to the television, its logo dancing across the television screen. It felt like it had been years since Aaran had just vegged out and watched TV, and he was looking forward to falling asleep with some white noise again.