Green Desert - Chapter 7.1.3 - Fírí

Ketchup, peanut butter, mayonnaise, ranch dressing, raspberry vinaigrette, lemon juice, olive spread, strawberry jam, apple butter, squeeze butter. And that was just the top shelf of the fridge door. The rest of the refrigerator was packed just as full. I couldn’t even see the back two thirds. Not that I’d eat something from back there; it was probably years old.

I grabbed the olive spread and a pitcher of orange juice and closed the fridge. I tried all the cupboards before I found the bread and crackers. Plenty of canned food, that was for sure. I took the crackers––sesame––and a glass from another cupboard and sat myself down at the bloodstained table.

The crackers and olive spread tasted delicious, like the most wonderful meal I’d ever eaten. A long draught of juice and I began to feel alive again, even though it was from concentrate.

After about ten crackers piled high with spread, and one and a half glasses of orange juice, a knock echoed through the house. I set down a half-eaten cracker. The front door. The police were here.

Should I answer? I had nothing in here to hide––nothing in the house at all, actually. But it’s not like it was my door to answer. Not my food, either. I finished the cracker.

They knocked again.

But who knew where Vata had gone to. I might as well get the cops in and out of here as quick as possible, before they started nosing around outside, near the pickup. I stood up.