Chapter 4
Finally, we knew where we were going. We could follow this damn map with a purpose: a break. Just a small reprieve from the endless worry about family, about how we'd get back— if we'd get back.
The train rolled into the station we hadn't seen in far too long. We'd only stayed here a couple of times, never lingering, unsure of what exactly had wiped out all human life. But the home, which must have been some form of property of a Hargreeves, still stood, nestled in a quiet, secluded wood. The only reasons we had come to this conclusion was because wherever the subway opened up to there would be some form of academy, standing or destroyed.
I swung the bags over my shoulders, while Lila carried our personal effects—if you could call them that. Just tokens we found along the way that brought us a little joy in this bleak existence.
As we walked up the stairs from the platform, sunlight hit my eyes, and the sight of a blue sky, accompanied by the sound of birds singing, felt like music to my ears. We trudged through the thick, fenced forest until we reached the clearing where the quaint house stood. It was different from the other buildings we'd encountered, less imposing, more… homely. Unlike the sprawling manors and grand estates we had seen in other timelines, this place was modest. Small, with only a few rooms, but it would do. Anywhere that wasn't rubble would do. We had the skills to hunt and there was a stream nearby.
I could almost kick myself for not asking for this break sooner, but I knew we had to push ourselves first. We would have felt too guilty to stop, to pause, if we hadn't tried everything else first.
The house itself was a simple, two-story structure. The exterior was weathered but intact, with whitewashed walls that had faded to a soft cream under the years of sun and rain. A gabled roof topped it off, with a single chimney poking out from one side. Ivy crept up the walls, and a few cracked, but still-intact, windows gave a glimpse of what lay inside.
We stepped through the front door into a small entryway that opened into the kitchen and dining room. The kitchen was basic but functional, with old-fashioned appliances that somehow still worked. Wooden cabinets lined the walls, and a small dining table sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by mismatched chairs. I could already picture myself teleporting straight to the kitchen, lighting a fire, and warming up some water for a bath. The house still had running water, but to heat it was a manual task, one I didn't mind undertaking.
Next to the kitchen was the sitting room, a cozy space with worn but comfortable furniture. A fireplace dominated one wall, its hearth clean but cold. The room led directly into a huge greenhouse, which was the real gem of this place. The roof of the greenhouse had been left open at some point, and while the more tropical plants had failed to thrive, the rain, safe and plentiful here, had kept everything else going. Strawberries, tomatoes, herbs, and flowers of every kind thrived here, their growth lush and vibrant. Sunlight streamed through the glass walls, making the air inside warm and fragrant. It was a small oasis in the middle of all the destruction we'd seen.
A narrow hallway led to the study, a room filled with books from floor to ceiling. Shelves groaned under the weight of dusty volumes, many of them on topics like botany, history, and the sciences. A large oak desk sat in the centre of the room, its surface cluttered with papers and quills, as if someone had just stepped out and left it that way.
Upstairs, there was just one bathroom, modest and functional, with a clawfoot tub that promised a long, hot soak after we got the fire going. There was only one bedroom with a single double bed, covered in a quilt that had seen better days but was still serviceable.
Lila was already heading to the greenhouse, likely thinking about what we could gather for dinner. I dropped the bags by the door and glanced around, taking in the simple but sturdy surroundings. I could live with this, I decided. For a time, anyway.
"I'm going to run a bath," I called out, unable to hide the smile creeping into my voice. The idea of an actual bath after all this time felt like a luxury.
I started filling the biggest pot I could find and placed it in the cradle above the fireplace. Now, to get the fire started. I glanced around the room for anything useful. The hearth was clear, and there wasn't much lying around, so I went to one of our bags and pulled out the flint we'd found a while back.
I crouched by the fireplace, arranging some kindling—small, dry sticks we'd collected for just this purpose—into a neat pile. Next, I grabbed a piece of char cloth from our supplies, placing it in the centre of the kindling. Holding the flint in one hand, I struck it with a steel striker, aiming to produce a spark. After a few tries, a bright spark caught on the char cloth, glowing orange as it began to smolder. I gently blew on it, encouraging the ember to grow until it ignited the kindling. Within moments, small flames were licking at the larger pieces of wood, and the fire began to crackle and pop, casting a warm glow around the room.
Lila walked back in just as the fire started to catch. "Wow, you're really not waiting around, huh? Surely, ladies first?"
I glanced up at her, a smirk forming on my lips. "If you wanted to go first, you should've started the fire," I quipped, poking at the flames with a stick.
Lila rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small grin that followed. "Fine, but don't hog all the hot water, old man."
"Don't worry," I replied, "I'll save you some… assuming there's any left after I wash off three years of grime."
"Yeah, I'll be having fresh water after, thanks," Lila said, pulling a face of disgust, though her tone was playful. "I'll start preparing dinner. We have some vegetables that look ready—carrots, potatoes, that kind of thing—but we'll eat after we're both clean."
"Fantastic," I replied, my voice laced with anticipation. I stared at the pot on the fire, willing the water to hurry up and boil. I needed it hot enough to warm the bath with just one trip upstairs. If I was going to scald myself, I wanted to keep the odds low, though I already knew I'd be doing this all over again for Lila in a bit.
Once the water reached a rolling boil, I carefully lifted the pot and made my way up the stairs. The old house creaked underfoot, but I didn't mind; it felt sturdy enough. Reaching the bathroom, I scanned the room for a safe spot to set down the hot pot. The floorboards were old and dry—definitely not the place for boiling water.
In the corner, I noticed a worn-out rug, its edges frayed from years of use. It was faded and threadbare, likely not missed if it ended up with a few burn marks. I dragged it closer to the tub, placing the pot on it carefully, ensuring it wouldn't tip over.
I turned on the taps, watching as the water started off murky before clearing up. Once it was running clean, I filled the tub to a modest level. With a steady hand, I poured the boiling water in, steam rising as it met the cooler water. The room filled with warmth, a welcome change from the cold stations and endless rubble. Finally, a real bath.
As I scanned the bathroom for anything resembling soap, my search turned up empty. No luck there. Deciding to improvise, I headed back downstairs and made my way to the greenhouse.
Lila glanced up from where she was chopping vegetables and smirked. "You're meant to come down cleaner, not worse."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "Just trying to see if we have anything which could resemble a form of soap."
In the greenhouse, I rummaged through the assortment of plants and herbs, finally settling on lavender, mint leaves, and eucalyptus. I picked a generous amount of each, knowing they'd make a decent substitute for soap and add a nice touch to the bath.
I made my way back upstairs with the herbs in hand. Lila raised an eyebrow at the sight. "Going all out, I see."
"Enough for you too," I replied, not looking at her and dashing upstairs. "Might as well make the most of this!" I called out.
I scattered the lavender buds and mint leaves into the bath, letting some of the herbs fall in a small pile by the sink for later. Stripping off my clothes, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and muttered, "Shit, I'm a lot lighter than I thought I was."
I traced my fingers over a few of the newer scars, their presence a harsh reminder of the trials we had endured. With a deep breath, I turned my attention back to the bath, the sweet smell of the herbs mingling with the steam from the hot water. I stirred the water to ensure it was evenly heated and slipped in as quickly as possible.
The warmth was a welcome relief, and I almost drifted off but shook myself awake. I needed to scrub off the grime that had accumulated over the past year. The hair was the toughest part—dead ends and tangles had formed, making it a challenge to work through.
As I scrubbed, the water turned brown, a testament to how badly I needed this bath. I cleaned every inch of myself, head to toes.
Once I was done, I looked at the discoloured water and knew I needed to rinse it all away. I drained the tub and braced myself for a quick, cold rinse. The icy water was a shock to my system, and I yelped at the sudden chill. But it was necessary; the grime had to be washed off, and I didn't want to keep Lila waiting any longer than I already had.
After drying myself with a tattered towel, I took a moment to assess the state of my hair. "Later," I thought, I'd ask Lila to help with the cut. For now, at least it was clean.
I looked down at my clothes—ones I'd worn for far too long. I walked into the bedroom and started rummaging through the drawers. I found some jeans and a sweatshirt. Not my usual style at all. I'd always preferred suits and uniforms; they made me feel like I was following a purpose. But now, now was a time for a break. I had to find a belt and punch a new hole, much smaller than the smallest one already there. There was no way the jeans would stay up without it.
After getting dressed, I grabbed the pot and went through the whole routine again: boiling the water, running the tap, adding the hot water to the bath, and scattering the herbs. I selected another towel, picking the one that looked the nicest, and left it on a stool in the bathroom. I then hid the somewhat burned rug from sight and hoped the setup would make her at least a bit happier.
Downstairs, I placed the empty pot upside down on the draining board and headed back to the sitting room.
"Your bath awaits," I said, gesturing grandly towards the stairs and taking a small bow.
Lila laughed and shook her head. "Fuck, don't think I've ever seen you in something so… comfy?"
"Consider it a rare treat," I quipped. "I promise I'm not always this relaxed."
"Yeah, sure," she said, smirking. "Next thing you'll be telling me you've got a thing for cozy socks and slippers.
"Only if they come with a glass of whiskey," I replied, with a playful wink. "But for now, I'm afraid you'll have to settle for a hot bath and whatever I can manage in the kitchen."
"Sounds like a deal," she said, rolling her eyes, walking away. "Let's hope the food turns out better than your fashion choices." "If you don't like it, I'm sure I can find you a rat or two." I called out after her but she was already up the stairs.
She took longer than I'd anticipated, which was probably a good thing. Maybe she was finally getting a moment to herself.
The vegetables were done, and the rabbit I'd pulled out of my bag had been skinned and cooked up in the pot, making a decent stew.
I managed to move the pot a bit further from the heat, so it wouldn't evaporate but would stay warm. She could take as long as she needed.
I found myself exploring the kitchen. There were homemade jams, which might still be good. I discovered some dried herbs and sprinkled a bit into the pot. I found a cupboard which didn't look quite right. It didn't look deep enough. I pried the back board and then to my delight, a stock of whisky. I couldn't help but laugh out loud, grabbing a bottle and unscrewing the lid. I took a long swig straight from the bottle.
"Ahhh," I sighed, savouring the warmth of the alcohol. It wasn't exactly the kind of comfort I'd expected to find, but it was a welcome one. I leaned against the counter, taking a moment to appreciate the small pleasures of normalcy before Lila came back downstairs.
"Holy shit, is that?" Lila's eyes widened as she spotted the whiskey bottle. I held it out to her without her even asking, and she took a grateful swig.
As she took a sip, I noticed what she was wearing. She'd found a bright yellow jumper and dungarees to go over it. "Couldn't find anything all in black?" I joked, though it was genuinely refreshing to see her in something new and cheerful.
Lila smirked, "Had to shake off the doom and gloom somehow. If we're going for the whole 'end of the world' look, I might as well bring some colour to it." she chuckled and followed up "Besides, it's nice to see you out of your usual too. You look almost... Normal"
"Geeze, thanks," I said, trying to sound sarcastic but coming off lighter than intended. I smiled and dished out two bowls of stew.
"I can't remember when we last had this much food for dinner. A rabbit, sure, but vegetables too," I said.
"It smells good, Five," Lila said, taking one of the bowls and starting to serve. Once we had both bowls filled, we carried them to the table with the whiskey bottle.
I returned to the kitchen to grab some utensils from a middle drawer and found a couple of glasses for the whiskey.
"You think we're going to drink that sensibly?" Lila asked, eyeing the bottle.
"No, but we can try," I replied with a grin. "If we're going to overindulge, it might as well be in style. But let's not get too carried away or we'll end up as the poster children for 'What Not to Do in an Apocalypse.'"
"Right," she said with a chuckle shaking her head.
I couldn't remember the last time we had banter at each other like this. The last time we had the energy for anything other than searching those damn stations, finding food, and rinsing and repeating it day in and day out. It had been a long time since we'd had the chance to relax and actually enjoy a moment like this. Our days had become so routine, so focused on survival, that these small exchanges, this teasing, felt like a slice of normalcy we hadn't had in ages.
The warmth of the food, the comfort of a real meal, and even the whiskey—a luxury we hadn't allowed ourselves—were like a balm to our weary souls. For a brief moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, we could let our guards down and just be. This night, with laughter and simple pleasures, reminded us of what we were fighting to return to: something that resembled a life worth living.