My plan was simple. I would return to house number 18 and leave the note on the door where people would be able to see it. The message and tape were tucked away in the back pocket of my jeans.

When I made it to the house, the woman was gone from the window. She probably gave up and returned to the dark confinements of the house . . . do they sleep? It didn't matter, she was gone now.

Tracing my steps to the front door, I tried staying as quiet as possible. Just as I had done before. I made sure not to go anywhere near the window this time. All I had to do was hang the note on the door and leave.

I grabbed the Sellotape, spending almost a minute looking for the edge. When I finally found it, I ripped tape in my teeth and took the note from my back pocket. I kept adding tape until the message was secured against the door. The tape seemed less than sticky.

Taking a step back, I looked at the note. People would see it now, they would know that the house had a sick person inside. I tucked the tape back in my pocket sneaking away from the house. I didn't ever intend on coming back, so I gave a small wave as I left.

When I made it back to my street, I saw a car parked across the street from where I was staying. Glenn's car. I couldn't help but smile; it was nice to see someone again.

I jogged up the house to meet him. The closer I got, I heard him calling my name, followed by a loud banging. Glenn was standing in front of the door, knocking every few seconds.

"Ace?" He called again.

"Glenn!"

He jumped around in surprise, but a relieved look crossed his face. "Oh, thank God. I thought . . ."

"No," I shook my head. "I just popped out to do something."

"Okay," he breathed out.

Part of me was shocked that he didn't ask what I was doing, but he just seemed relieved that I was even alive right now. I didn't realise he planned on visiting again, I assumed he would just be looking through some of the houses that were further away.

Looking down, I noticed a gallon bottle at his feet, almost completely full with a transparent liquid. "Is that water?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "We weren't sure whether houses still have water, so we boiled some up for you."

I frowned. I had looked through all the houses on the streets, and most of them had water in emergency kits. Him giving me all of this felt almost like a waste of supplies.

"You won't run out?" I questioned, a frown on my face.

He shook his head. "The quarry we're at has a lake that's built up at the bottom."

My face scrunched up, but I let out a chuckle. "You probably should have started with that."

"I realise that now," he rubbed the back of his neck with a smile.

"I'm glad you brought that, actually," I nodded to the canister of water at his feet. "Water started running slower now. I think it's going to shut off in a few days. I was going to start storing it in whatever containers I could find."

I unlocked the door, and Glenn entered the house with the gallon of water.

"Does electricity still work here?"

"Not in this town. It stopped two days ago," I shook my head.

Glenn nodded along as I spoke, leaning back on the kitchen counter. Part of me forgot that he was even on the quarry, so he wouldn't know whether the towns had water or electricity.

I turned to look at him. He was questioningly looking at the dismantled walkie on the table, his eyebrows knitting together as he thought about what it was. It wasn't long before I remembered why Glenn was even here.

"Did you want to go and look at the other houses for food today?"

"I already did," his head snapped up to look at me. "I took a look around before I came here. I grabbed some things for you, too."

"You shouldn't—"

"I already did," he interrupted me. "I don't even want to leave you here alone. The least you can do is just keep some of it."

I pursed my lips. "Okay."

When I put my things down inside, Glenn turned to leave the house again. I assumed he would get some of the food he was talking about.

I moved into the kitchen and sat down at the table, looking at the parts. I hadn't been able to find any cleaning solution for something like this, so I had to think of another way to clean the circuit boards.

I knew that coke got rid of rust, but there was one can when my dad and I shared in the first few days. I hadn't seen anymore. And I didn't know whether soda would ruin the board. I started looking through the cupboards for something else.

Baking soda. . .

Was that the same thing as bicarbonate soda? I hate that everything has a different name in this country. If it was bicarbonate power, then I'm pretty sure it would work to clean the circuit boards. In the back of the cupboard, there was a clear plastic tub. I leaned further into the cupboard to pull it out.

The door opened and closed again, and Glenn entered the room. He dropped a cardboard box on the counter and glanced down at me with a strange look but didn't say anything.

I placed the tub and baking soda down on the table behind me before standing up and grabbing the gallon of water that Glenn brought. I poured some water into the tub and dropped the gallon back on the ground. A spoon was in the drying rack, which I grabbed and placed on the table.

Unsure of the measurements I needed for the makeshift cleaning solution, I just started pouring the baking soda into the tub filled with water.

I felt Glenn's eyes on me as I carried on with what I was doing. I started mixing the baking soda with the spoon, the liquid turning white. His head tilted to the side as he watched me, eyebrows raised. My eyes lifted up from the solution on the table, and he turned his gaze away.

I shifted in my seat. "Can I help you?"

"I'm sorry," he apologised, crossing his arms and turning to look out the window. He glanced back over, obviously still intrigued. "I just. . . what is all this?"

"It's a walkie-talkie," I explained.

"But why did you take it apart?" Glenn asked, sitting in the chair opposite me and sliding it closer to get a better look.

"It was broken; I have to fix it."

"Why?" He questioned pointedly. I pursed my lips, looking down at the broken pieces in my hand to make it seem like I was agitated by the radio. Glenn seemed to understand and changed his question. "Do you even know how?"

"Kind of," I shrugged. "I'm working on my minimal knowledge of electronics. The circuit board is corroded, and if this is bicarbonate powder, it should clean the rust away. Then I can see what's broken."

I pushed the tub away, pulled the circuit board over to me, removed the chips and wires that were connected. When the important things were disconnected, I reached for the baking soda and water mixture. After adding more and more baking soda, the mixture was more like a paste.

"Are you sure that will work?" Glenn questioned.

"It should remove surface rust," I nodded. "But, this thing is basically screwed if it rust ate through the board."

"Then what will you do?"

"I don't know."

I glanced around, looking for something to clean the circuit board with. There was a sponge on the side of the kitchen sink, so I lunged over to it, part of me still sitting on the sofa.

Glenn raised an eyebrow, but I just glared at him when I sat back down with the sponge in my hand. Using the spoon, I poured the paste on the circuit board, covering the copper blue rust. I used the sponge to scrub the paste over the corroded areas, making sure not to press too hard on the small panel.

"Do you miss Britain?" Glenn asked out of nowhere. "You must have spent a lot of time there."

"We moved over here when I was little," I told him. "I travelled back and forth a lot. Some of my family was there, and some other things happened. Honestly, most of my time I spent scrunched up on a plane."

He nodded.

"Were you born in Korea?" I glazed up from the board.

"No," he shook his head. "My parents moved over before having kids. I know basically no Korean." He watched me return my attention to the circuit board again before asking, "Where are you from in Britain?"

I liked that he was curious, but I couldn't answer. It would be a waste of time. It's not like he would know.

"If I actually told you exactly where I was from in Britain, would you even know?" I questioned, a slight smile on my face. That was always my excuse to avoid where I was from. No one ever knew the actual locations. Just like I didn't know anywhere in America.

"I suppose not," Glenn shook his head. "Unless it was, London or something."

I glanced up with a smile. "It's not London."

"I guessed," he chuckled. "What made your family move to America?" he asked.

"My dad was always from here, but we moved to Britain when he and my mother got married," I explained. "He had some family problems, and we moved back here."

Glenn nodded. "We lived in Michigan when I was a kid. My family is still there."

He looked down, a look of sadness consuming his face. It was only for a second before he shook his head and pushed the look away.

"Why are you in Atlanta?" I asked, trying to distract him.

"I just wanted to try something new, ended up getting stuck delivering pizzas."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," I tried to cheer him up, but he just gave me the are-you-serious? Look.

"Sure."

"Well. . ." I tried thinking of something else. "I was in school and had a job, so, you could have been me. . ." for some reason, my mouth kept moving. "But, I actually enjoyed school. . . and the job. . . so. . ."

He just stared at me, trying to hold back a smile.

"Can you talk now?" I asked. "Please."

He laughed.

I looked back down at the circuit board. The paste was turning a muddy blue colour, which meant it was pulling off the first—and hopefully only—layer of rust. I smiled at the progress, but the anxious feeling came up that the rust might have eaten entirely through the board.

I glanced up and around. "Can you pass that kitchen roll, please?"

He looked around over his shoulder, a confused look falling over his face. Eventually, he reached back and grabbed the roll. "You mean paper towels, right?"

"Yeah," damn Americans. "Those things."

He placed it down on the table in front of me.

I grabbed a sheet of paper and started wiping the paste away from the board. I gritted my teeth, looking at the damage the rust caused, but that wasn't the only problem.

My head fell into my hands, and I sighed audibly.

"What's wrong?" Glenn asked.

"Some traces are missing," I told him. He looked a little confused, so I pointed down at the board with my finger, "the little gold strips."

"And?" He questioned, still a little confused. "What does that mean?"

"It means I don't know how to fix it now," I confessed. "A professional probably could, but for me, it would be easier to just find a new circuit board and replace it."

The truth was, I didn't know enough about electronics to fix these problems.

"I could keep an eye out for a new radio if you want?" Glenn asked.

I shook my head. "You don't get it."

"Tell me?"

"My dad had the other one when we went missing. He said he was in trouble, and mine broke when he was halfway through speaking," I explained.

"I'm sorry," Glenn pressed his lips into a thin line. "How long ago was that?"

I didn't bother answering. It felt like forever—and yesterday. A week alone would do that to you.

Glenn looked over to the window and then to the clock on the arch behind me. "It's getting late; I should go now. I don't want to be travelling in the dark," he said, standing up. "I'll come back again tomorrow?"

"You don't have to."

"Yeah, but I'm not sure my group will let me live it down if I don't," he said.

"Okay," I nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow."

I walked him to the door and locked it behind him as he left.

An hour later, night fell. The room got darker and darker with each passing minute. I took a match from the kitchen drawer, using it to light the candle in the centre of the coffee table. The smell of artificial pomegranate filled the room.

After changing into the tracksuit bottoms and comfortable black shirt I used as pyjamas, I settled down on the sofa. Snatching my bag up from the ground next to me, I dropped it in my lap. My iPod was in the front pocket, entrapped in a coil of earphones that unravelled as I lifted it from the bag. I held the button down for a few seconds, and the screen lit up.

92%

In the panic, I'd left my charger at home. Since being here, I hadn't used the iPod that much, not wanting to waste the battery. I would listen to a few songs at a time and turn it off to conserve its battery. I laid down, plugging in the earphones, before scrolling through the songs I had lined up.

Three or four songs later, my eyes felt tired, and I could feel myself zoning out. I turned the iPod off, shoving it back in my bag. I pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa over myself to keep warm before the room faded to black, and the last thing I heard was the ticking of the clock in the kitchen.

Okay, the second chapter is here! Just as promised, a day before schedule because I'm off to the pub tomorrow XD. Also, this one received less editing but WheresMyPenn assured me it was fine.

Again, let me know what you thought and I hope you enjoyed :)