Renegade

Chapter thirteen

They walked in silence, Makoto stubbornly avoiding the happy family scenes unfolding in the homes they passed. The periodic lurches of his stomach helped, bringing their lack of food to the forefront of his mind. 

They had finished their last can of beans that morning. While that wasn't a particularly saddening event – he was steadily getting sick of them –, the fact that they were now out of food and running low on water was worrying. They didn't have much leftover money either.

In all honesty, he had hoped to use it to rent a room somewhere to allow them a night's sleep in a real bed, as well as a shower since they were beginning to smell pretty bad. If they didn't find a small grocery store to break into soon, however, that plan would fall through. 

Makoto scoffed, wondering when breaking and entering had become so commonplace for them. About a week into their life on the run actually, when they realized that their meager savings wouldn't last them long if they kept trying to stay on the right side of the law.

They reached a T-shaped crossing, the street in front of them continuing to the center of the city, while the path on the right led deeper into the residential area. He was about to trudge ahead when something caught his eye. On the street to their right, three houses down was a darkened home.

His right hand shot out to grab the flowing sleeve of Amanda's shirt and bring her to a stop. She glanced his way, waiting for an explanation he couldn't give as he was in the middle of cursing himself for thoughtlessly using his injured arm. 

When the pain receded, he locked gazes with her, jerking his head towards the houses. She didn't seem to understand his meaning, so he led them both down the street, slowing his pace as they reached the building in question.

It was identical in every aspect to the ones surrounding it: two-stories high with nondescript white walls, a red roof, and a wooden door. There was a large window on the first floor and two smaller ones on the second, the shutters drawn halfway down on all three. Two trashcans stood next to the driveway, the lid of one lying on the floor, both empty. The front lawn looked to be in need of mowing.

As they passed in front of the house, Makoto quickly compared it to its neighbors. The shutters on the other buildings were drawn up, light flooding their carefully trimmed lawns while a car (sometimes two) was pulled up in front of the matching garages. Either the owners were away on an extended holiday or they were real slobs. Makoto hoped it was the first option.

Amanda shot the dark house an absent glance before looking away. Her expression remained neutral, no understanding dawning on her features or disapproval marring her brows. Makoto had come to interpret this particular lack of reaction as her 'this needs to be done, I understand, so I won't think about it too much' expression.

She had gotten accustomed to breaking into shops and grocery stores pretty quickly, but she still disliked entering homes. In all honesty, so did Makoto, which was why he usually tried to avoid doing it. 

They didn't have the luxury do to so now, as they were out of food, his bandages needed changing and Amanda's flowery shirt – mostly hidden beneath a ratty sweater – was stained with blood. 

They walked past the house with attempted nonchalance, Makoto intent on returning only after the neighbors retired for the night.

~ ~ ~

It was well past midnight by the time they could finally sneak back. They silently stole across the gravelly driveway, creeping around the garage into the backyard. Makoto scanned the back of the house, his eyes landing on the door with glass panels. He dearly hoped the area was safe enough that the inhabitants didn't feel the need to install an alarm system. 

They reached the door, stopping on either side of it. Makoto knocked twice on the glass. They held their breaths for a few moments, but no one stirred.

Amanda handed him the lock-picking kit they had nicked early on. It had taken him a while to get a hang of it, but now he was pretty much a master at it. He could have used his abilities, of course, but after years of restraining himself, he still shied away from them outside of emergency situations. 

The lock clicked softly and he pushed the door open, the inside air that wafted over him stale. Amanda took the kit back as he carefully entered, ears perked for any signs of life. He wasn't going to lower his guard just because everything seemed to indicate that the house was empty.

The back door led to the living room that spanned across the first floor, all the way to the half-shuttered window. A couple of impressive bookshelves lined the left wall while a large TV screen adorned the right one. 

A wide couch, a love seat and a plush armchair were set in the center of the room. A wooden table with six sturdy chairs proudly stood beyond them, faintly illuminated by the light filtering in from outside. 

Beyond the bookshelves was the entrance to the kitchen. Amanda sashayed over to it, while Makoto turned right towards the staircase facing the entrance. His fingers nervously twitched as he made his way up, every loud creak of the steps only putting him more on edge.

The second floor was carpeted and muffled the sound of his sneakers, much to his relief. He opened the door closest to him, holding his breath – it was a bathroom. The next one revealed a room - he could vaguely make out an empty bed. The next two rooms were empty as well, as was the sole toilet at the end of the hall. 

After quickly relieving himself and washing off as much dirt from his hands as he could in the darkness, he headed back downstairs. Amanda was waiting for him in the living room, a can held in each hand. She gestured towards the wide couch next to her.

"Sit," she told him and he complied.

She handed him one of the cans with a spoon buried into its contents, then seated herself on the love seat. They dug in, Makoto's shoulders slumping as the taste hit him: beans. Again. Figures they would break into the only house that had a full stock of them. 

Once they were finished, Amanda rose and took the empty container from his hands. He was about to stand and offer to take the love seat for the night when she interrupted him, her voice unusually stern.

"Sleep," she told him, clearly intent on having him use the couch.

He lied down, feet facing the entrance, partly so he could keep an eye on the door and partly so his injured shoulder wouldn't be mashed against the backrest. He grabbed one of the ornamental pillows and tucked it beneath his head. By the time Amanda returned, he was fast asleep.

She quietly placed the bottle of water she had brought with her on the coffee table, her eyes searching for something to use as a cover. She found a ratty old blue blanket with cloud prints on the armchair and gently draped it over his sleeping figure. 

She took her own spot on the love seat, her legs dangling off the edge. They didn't bother taking off their shoes anymore, since they never knew when someone would stumble across them, forcing them to flee.

Amanda wiggled into a more comfortable position and closed her eyes, taking deep, measured breaths. Like every time before falling asleep, she visualized a bubble, perfectly-shaped and transparent. Inside it sat a polar bear cub impatiently clawing at the barrier, its snout open in a silent snarl. A pair of dark eyes stared at her, aggressiveness shimmering in their depths. 

The image slowly faded away as sleep came to claim Amanda as well.

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