Desperately Seeking Epic(40)

“You can go, Paul. I have this.”

“What if someone is in there?”

“If someone is, they’ll be sorry,” she replied as she took the first step to the porch, which groaned in protest from her weight. Her face tightened and she winced at the sound, fearing it alerted anyone that might be inside to her approaching. I followed behind her, the stairs creaking loudly with my additional weight. Her hand, the one not holding the gun, had just found the doorknob when I took the final step onto the porch. At that exact moment, as she opened the door, I fell through the porch floor, the aged and weak wood having given out from under me.

The sound of the wood splitting was loud, causing Clara to whip around, and she pointed the gun in my direction.

My stomach felt like it dropped out of my ass. “Don’t shoot,” I shouted. She immediately dropped the gun to her side, pressing her mouth in an angry and frustrated flat line.

“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, clutching my chest, my heart racing. She almost shot me.

“I almost shot you,” she growled as if it was somehow my fault.

“No shit,” I snapped as I took inventory of myself. No missing body parts; no injuries. Climbing out of the hole, I treaded gently on the porch, fearful I might fall through again. “Give me the gun,” I ordered her.

She scowled at me. “No.”

I glowered back. “I’m going in first so give me the gun.” I held out my hand as I gave her a stern look.

Quirking a defiant eyebrow, she snickered, “Do you even know how to use a gun?”

“Of course, I do,” I lied. I had fired guns before, but I was no pro. All I really wanted at that moment was to make sure she didn’t kill me by accident.

Rolling her eyes, she handed it to me. “Be careful with that.”

I shook my head in annoyance, cursing this infuriating woman to myself as I entered the house. The weight of the gun surprised me as I held it by my side. This was a heavy gun for a girl. I almost said that to her, but decided against it since it might earn me some kind of feminist lecture. My steps were slow, and light, but the floors still creaked with each one. She was right behind me as I blindly made my way down the dark and unfamiliar hallway.

Something thudded and I stopped, causing her to bump into me. “Damn it, Paul,” she muttered.

“Shh,” I ordered hastily, extending my neck slightly to listen. Scratching sounds, like nails on a wall. I was relieved it was only an animal . . . we just didn’t know what kind of animal.

After a moment of quiet, she whispered, “It sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen.” She nudged me forward, and we crept toward the back of the house, toward what I assumed was the kitchen. We reached the doorway and Clara weaved her thin arm between me and the doorframe before I had a chance to understand what she was doing. In a flash, the kitchen light blazed on, shocking my eyes. A loud hiss mixed with a frantic meow made me jerk when something small and black jumped. It scared the shit out of me and I reacted, jerking my arm up to point the gun, which accidentally went off with a loud pop that kicked my heartbeat into overdrive.

“Shit,” I gasped, freaked out that I had just accidentally fired the gun. The bullet split through a vase on the kitchen table, destroying it into hundreds of pieces. The small black thing, I now knew was a cat, as I watched it haul ass out of a tiny fold of cardboard on the back window, seemed just as freaked out as me. Apparently there were multiple windows busted in this house.

“Motherf*cker,” I yelled as I tried to catch my breath. I wasn’t scared of a cat. Okay, maybe it scared me for a second because of the sheer shock of it. Clara’s laughter pulled me from my shock as I turned to see her bent over, holding her stomach, laughing.

“You think this is funny?” I sneered.

Her body shook as she tried to get her laughter under control. “Not you shooting my vase,” she finally answered, “but your reaction was priceless.”

“Why do you even have this?” I asked, darting my gaze to the gun in my hand.

“Give me that,” Clara demanded as she pried the gun from my hand. Passing by me, she placed the gun on the counter, closing her eyes as if she needed to calm down herself. “Fucking cat,” she muttered under her breath, still chuckling.

“I’m not going to lie,” I piped in, a little out of breath. “That scared the shit out of me.”

“Gee, I couldn’t tell,” she said dryly.

“You need to get new windows,” I pointed out.

She huffed, something that held a hint of disdain. “New windows cost money.”

“This place isn’t safe with cardboard as windows.”

“Thank you, Paul. I didn’t realize,” she griped sarcastically.

“When did you move in here?”

“About a week ago,” she sighed as she crossed her arms and turned, letting her gaze travel the room. There was no stove, half the cabinet doors were missing, and the linoleum on the floor was ripped in several places. And this was just the kitchen. I cringed to think what the rest of the house looked like.

“Did you get it for free, because short of that, I cannot imagine why you’d move in here?”

“Guy gave me a lease-to-own option, it was super cheap, and I liked the idea of . . .” She twisted her mouth in thought before she continued, “Putting life back into it. Someone gave up on this place a long time ago. Maybe I just don’t like giving up.”