A shuffling gait could be heard in the garage. In the very dim light, Terah found Lindsey’s mouth and pressed his hand over it. She struggled, then quickly realized what was happening. She lay very still. The shuffling feet took their time, as if inspecting the junk piles. Was he looking for something, or had he found their footprints? If he opened the door they’d not be able to get by him. Terah couldn’t run with his leg banged up. All they could do was wait and listen.
Surely it was the homeowner. A thief would quickly realize that finding anything of value would take far more time than it was worth, given the state of things. Even in the flashlight earlier it was clear that this wasn’t quality stuff. The people in the house were of modest means. That meant that he was either after something—hopefully not in the back room—or he was suspicious and investigating. Perhaps even arming himself. Hadn’t Terah seen baseball bats last night, and crowbars? The feet shuffled, as if in an ambling state of mind.
In the darkened back room the couple sat as still as possible. Emergency blankets were crinkly, and made noise when the wearer moved. Outside the closed door, the feet kept their meandering pace, pausing now and again. Terah tried hard to remember what he’d seen in the flashlight. Old appliances, some discarded furniture. Tools vaguely identified in the half-light. To make matters worse, Terah had to pee. Likely Lindsey did too, which would only complicate things.
The fact that the owner hadn’t come back to their corner suggested he wasn’t aware of them. That, or he was playing cat-and-mouse. He’d legitimately come out to the garage in winter for something. Not being able to see, his prisoners could only guess what.
Enough light seeped in for Terah to scan the shelves. There were cans of food and Sterno here. All kinds of camping equipment, dusty with disinterest. If he could’ve, he’d be happy to bring it all back into circulation. He spied another flashlight. They could use another one. Very deftly Lindsey had made her way out from under the noisy blanket. Her body language made it clear she had to go too. The sound would give them away for sure. What could they use? The sound of urine splattering was unmistakable. To stop it splattering, you had to muffle it, like pissing in your pants. Cloth. Sleeping bags.
Outside the door, their visitor was clearly using some of his neglected tools. Terah recognized the unmistakable sounds of a mylar tape measure retracting and the hum of a table saw. When the wood met the blade, Terah used the sound mask to pull down a sleeping bag and mime his solution to Lindsey. She’d need to expose herself and straddle the rolled up bag, but it should absorb her pee without a sound. She refused, though the light was dim. Terah could guess why. He’d urinated in front of her, thinking she was a guy, and that had been difficult enough. He turned his back and waited.
The wailing of the protesting blade against wood was brief. Two-by-fours, probably. Not long enough to let her piss in peace. The scent of urine told him she’d complied. He then indicated that it was his turn. He couldn’t risk standing and spattering, and it was cumbersome to urinate while on his knees. Holding himself above the wet roll, he was afraid he might overshoot. The roll itself gave him an idea. If he could stick his penis inside the roll it would absorb the sound. He quickly did so and let go. The relief was delicious. Then he realized Lindsey was watching. Embarrassment fell too late to stop the process. Was that a grin on her face in the shadows?
At least they hadn’t been caught. The wind during the night might’ve drifted snow over their tracks. Terah put himself away and when he silently stood he could see Lindsey was bent over in laughter. It had to’ve looked mighty funny. A professor humping a sleeping bag. The room was definitely lighter now. Probably more than the light under the ill-fitting door would admit. Breakfast could be had, if they could open any of the camping food quietly. There were some plastic packs of fruit cocktail. The lids could be pulled back without noise, if done slowly. He offered one to Lindsey. He helped himself. The corn syrup from the cup jolted him awake in a way coffee could never do. He let the sweetness rest on his tongue a moment before greedily swallowing. The soft chunks of fruit hit his unshaven face, but he could maneuver them into his mouth. Maraschino cherries. His favorite part. His tongue played with one or two before chewing them up. The fruit cups came in a four pack. Might as well finish them off.
Realizing that this must be what it was like to be a mouse in a wall, they listened as the owner pottered around outside. The sound-bursts from the table-saw weren’t long enough to make any conversation and although the sugar rush buoyed their spirits, there was still the very real question of how to escape. After a while they felt a touch of warmth. Some of the earlier shuffling along outside had entailed turning on some heating device, maybe a kerosene heater. It didn’t make a huge difference behind the closed door, but living in the cold made every degree count. Having a centrally heated house was true luxury.
Terah and Lindsey spent the time as silently as possible. The shelves weren’t attached to the walls. They seem to have been homemade. Their host was a handyman, but they couldn’t really lean on the loose shelves. The small space had no chairs, of course, and part of the floor was taken up with a very damp sleeping bag. If the owner made a really long cut with his saw, they might’ve been able to pull some camp chairs from the shelf, but as it was there was space for two to sit, Indian-style, no matter how politically incorrect it is, with no back support. That was the term they’d used when Terah was in school.
The room had no windows into the garage, so Terah surveyed the goods with the flashlight. He didn’t relish stealing from someone, but this camping stuff hadn’t been touched in years. They would only take what they needed. Corporations weren’t really people, no matter what the law said. They could better afford it.
After what seemed an interminable stint, the sounds of closing up began to come from the other side of the door. Again the feet shuffled and paused, as if forgetful. Then they grew louder. And louder. The owner was coming to the closet. Terah and Lindsey froze in terror. If he opened the door, that would be the end. Instead, they heard something even worse. The hasp was closed and a lock slipped through.
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