Janie and The Gray: Part 15
Comfort. Part fifteen of a dystopian science-fantasy serial.
Sometime past midnight, a subtle awareness of my freedom settled on me like a butterfly. The feeling was too new — too fragile — to acknowledge. Doing so would make it flutter away as quickly as it had come. But it was there, and the presence of its colorful kaleidoscope wings stirred hope.
I sat on a gigantic sofa in the Tamuras' plush basement under a pile of throw blankets, eating my third snack bag of little Jimmy's school-lunch pretzels. The cold ache from the river was gone, and my head was a little less stabby.
As comfortable as I was, a growing uneasiness gnawed at me. It had nothing to do with pissed off aliens, and everything to do with being alone in a house with a total stranger. We had shared trauma. He saved my life during the escape. He hadn't given me any reason not to trust him. Still, there was a nagging feeling that I couldn't shake. I decided that after all that had happened, my intuition probably wasn't 100% — and the revolver digging into my waistline was enough reassurance for tonight.
As if on cue, Dimples came into the room and plopped down in the recliner.