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Odd.

Making my way out the front of the house, I back myself far enough to scope the roof of it, and find a solar panel there. The clearing of trees overhead gives just enough sunlight to keep it powered. Covered in dust and fallen branches, it’ll need to be cleared to work properly, but a twinge of excitement has me running back inside. I turn the knob on the stove to find the burners lighting up orange.

“You’re kidding me!” I clap my hands on a burst of laughter and search the drawers for something to open the can of food. My father once brought back a can of pineapple from the Deadlands and used a handheld contraption to remove the top of it. I vaguely recall what it looks like as I search the kitchen, and I find it in a drawer of utensils, as well as a stirring spoon. Another cupboard produces a pot--all conveniently stored, just like in one of the kitchens back at Szolen.

As the food heats up on the pan, I nab dishes from one of the cupboards.

The unnatural odor of the meat sends a wave of nausea gurgling in my gut, and just setting the dishes onto the counter in time, I race toward the sink and expel mostly fluids into the basin of it. Another torrent splashes against the stainless steel, gathering in a slimy pool that oozes down toward the drain. Much as I want to deny it, the symptoms of pregnancy seem to be rearing their ugly heads.

Swallowing back a second lump in my throat, I crouch down to the cupboard below, find a tube sticking out from a hole in the wall. Peering through the window over the sink, I follow the path of the hose to a massive tank set on the ground, where a funnel sticks up. I’m guessing that’s where rainwater is collected.

A water system.

Undrinkable, of course, unless we boil it.

I flip up the lever on the faucet, and the water reluctantly chugs from the spigot, a yellowish fluid splashing over the remains of my vomit, washing it down the drain. I grab one of the bigger pots to collect the water, filling it up nearly to the brim, and carry it to the stove to boil for drinking.

The corned beef sizzles in the pan as it continues to cook on low, and I give it a quick stir, before venturing into the room opposite the boy’s.

A bathroom.

Simple and small, with nothing more than a toilet, a tub and a sink.

Turning on the sink’s faucet produces the same chugging and rattling of the pipes, before a yellowish fluid expels. If I boil more water, I can fill a bath for later.

God, I could use one.

Returning to the kitchen, I cover my nose against the smell of the food, but unappetizing, or not, I’m eating it, anyway.

By the time Titus enters the house with Yuma in tow, the hash is ready, and I set out a plate for him.

“I cleared off the solar panels on the roof. Found a truck out back. Nice one. Fuel’s no good, though. We’ll have to find a hive to raid.”

“Raid? Why raid?” I spoon a scoop of the hash onto my plate, trying not to think about Titus’s earlier comment about the mouse.

“We have nothing to trade. They’re not going to willingly hand over fuel out of the goodness of their hearts.”

There’s food, but certainly not enough to offer an entire hive.

“We have some time. For now, let’s plan to hunker down for a few days.”

With a nod, I hold my nose and take the first bite of food.

Frowning, Titus watches me as he scoops up some of the food onto his spoon before shoveling it ungracefully into his mouth.

“I can’t stand the smell of this, but I’m too hungry to care. And your little comment didn’t help.”

He plops a spoonful onto the floor, where Yuma quickly gobbles it up clean.

“Thought you weren’t into sharing food with a mongrel.”

“This isn’t real food. It’s slop.”

“You’re already insulting my cooking. My apologies if it isn’t a palate pleaser,” I joke, taking another bite. “Honestly, I can’t believe people used to eat meat out of a can. Doesn’t seem right.”

In minutes, Titus polishes off his plate and pushes up from the table.

As if to leave it there.